I am not a licensed therapist or mental health professional, but I do know a little something about mental health.
Or, more appropriately, mental illness.
My younger brother has battled paranoid schizophrenia since 1979.
There were times during the 1980s that the members of my family slept with one eye opened for fear of what he would do next.
Voices telling him to attack our youngest brother, my father, my mother or stealing a vehicle, or sitting down in the middle of a busy highway were common.
Care received from doctors at the Lincoln Regional Center and accepting the responsibility of taking his medicine has produced a quiet life for him during the past 25 years.
He is not a productive member of society. But, at age 63, he is also not a threat.
When I asked my father to describe my brother’s mental illness, his response simply was, “the cheese slipped off his cracker.”
We have some people in Alliance whose cheese has slipped in a wayward direction.
One of those possible cheese slippers appeared at the July 2 Alliance City Council meeting.
I won’t mention her name because she would probably enjoy the publicity.
After berating city employees, she departed her allotted public comment time by flipping the bird at our city manager and dropping the dreaded F-Bomb.
Rather than taking the easy route of offering deserved criticism for her disgusting actions, it’s more appropriate to pray that she gets some mental health counseling.
She’s not alone.
We have a man running around Alliance who believes he is a United States Attorney (even though he doesn’t possess a law license) who makes up rules as he goes along.
From believing he doesn’t need to obtain a library card to his self-assurance that he can make whatever laws he wants to with the judicial system.
He needs mental help. There’s no other way to put it.
Since assuming the office of District Court Clerk in January 2015, I have dealt with over 450 divorce cases.
A vast majority were dealt with in a sane manner.
I can think of three of them where I truly believe one of the parties had the cheese slip off their cracker.
They did their best to load some of my days with total and complete aggravation.
They succeeded in making their partner’s life a living hell.
Yet, to my knowledge, they received no mental health counseling.
It was five years ago that a man drove his pickup truck across the courthouse lawn and parked it at the front door. He proceeded to run up the 42 steps to the District Court and demand to see a judge. All while holding a three-foot long iron plumbers’ tool.
He told me God was telling him to face off with a judge.
Law enforcement tasers ended his mission.
We had a horrible incident in the 500 block of West 2nd Street last week.
Thankfully law enforcement ended it peacefully.
When shouts of suicide and killing neighbors filter through walls of the building in which this person had barricaded himself, it’s an easy assumption that his brain is malfunctioning.
When a person suffers an ailment with his heart, lungs, liver, pancreas, or kidneys, it is easy to feel sympathetic and offer comfort.
When it’s the brain, reactions may include fear, anger, and intolerance.
In March 2016, one of my college roommates committed suicide.
Left behind to grieve were his wife, four children and countless family members and friends.
Apparently, he feared of losing his job as an agriculture lender at a small-town bank.
If only he had asked for help.
If only these people — and many others like them — would ask for help.
In 1989, my brother got the help he needed.
25 years later, help is still out there.
It’s glue that will help hold the cheese to the cracker.