It would be wrong to say that last week was particularly hard for my husband – because in reality it was no different to most weeks.  No different to most weeks dealing with a family member who is really sick and has no chance of being cured yet being no closer to death. Just sick. Stuck with paranoid schizophrenia.

I could see him at times buckling under the pressure. Feeling the weight of his brother on his shoulders, in his veins – coursing through everything he does.  Feeling equal parts angered and repulsed by the illness at the same time as feeling huge love, compassion and sympathy.

This week his brother has called him or texted him at least 3 times a day. Like he always does.  Some days it’s many more. That doesn’t sound too bad – hell there are thousands of people who would love so much contact with their family. But, the messages his brother leaves are often confused, always pleading and mostly heartbreaking.

Uncle Pencil (which is what I will call him for now) has no friends. Not even acquaintances.  His days are empty and alone.  He has very little reason to get out of bed in the morning. Bar phoning his brother (and sometimes his mother and father), Uncle Pencil has no real contact with the outside world.  He comes over for dinner to our place or my sister once a week (my sister’s family treat him like one of their own) – that takes care of 4 hours, the other 164 hours of the week he’s alone. With the voices in his head.

These voices don’t make for very good company. They aren’t nurturing, they convince him things are wrong when they aren’t. They’re louder than we are – they’ve made him believe that he can’t communicate outside of his immediate family when all he wants to do is “fit in”.

He’s as sad as he is sick.

Last week I read an article about employing people with mental illness. All it took was the Twitter link to pique my interest. All Uncle Pencil wants is a job. He just wants to fit in – he wants to have people to talk to, to go to, he wants to feel a sense of worth. He wants a job.  The article says:

“Mitchell, 38, suffers from bipolar disorder. He is also author of Bipolar: a path to acceptance, about his diagnosis of bipolar disorder, and how he learned to manage his illness. As a father of four, Mitchell wanted to show it’s possible to balance running a business with raising a family, all while managing his condition.

He says he would hire someone with a mental illness “as long as it is managed responsibly”. Mitchell believes: “It’s important for everyone to know that you can get there in the end and triumph over your mental illness.

When he has previously hired someone with a mental illness, he was proactive in supporting them. “On becoming aware of their illness I mentored them so that they could empower themselves to take the necessary action and ownership of their recovery plan,” he says.

I can almost guarantee you Mitchell would not hire my brother-in-law. Or he might. For a day.  Uncle Pencil’s illness does not look pretty. It’s not something you “become aware of” over time.  It’s there, it’s so much a part of him that it’s a part of his physicality.  Last week he shaved his own head – just some parts of it, random spots on the top of his head. Even without the haircut he looks scary – but that’s mostly just because you can see his own fear coming through in his eyes.
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And his behaviour is well, it’s mad. He’s not dangerous and in fact he’s not scary (even though he looks it)  he’s just not in touch with reality and following his train of thought is hard.

He manages his illness as responsibly as he can.  He takes his medication, he tries to continue going to occupational therapy and support groups but often he gets there and runs away because he is so frightened.

Hiring someone with a mental illness like schizophrenia is not like hiring someone with depression or anxiety. Oh Uncle Pencil has those in spades – but he’s “mad”.  Properly, distressingly, socially inappropriate and deluded

The article goes on to say

“Susan Bower, 41, owns Dressed for Success, a Brisbane-based property styling business. Like Mitchell, she would hire someone with a mental illness. “As a business owner that suffers from depression myself, I know that with treatment, people with mental illnesses can function just as well as anybody else.

“Mental illness is now emerging as a more common illness, so the likelihood of employing someone with a mental illness is much higher whether they disclose it or not.”

Uncle Pencil has no choice about disclosing his illness. It’s written on his face with the pain and fear he carries around Every. Single. Day.  However forward thinking and benevolent and depressed and anxious Australian employers are, they are running a mile from people like Uncle Pencil.

I’m not having a go at employers, I’m certainly not having a go at Valerie Khoo who wrote the article because I applaud anyone who starts the conversation. I do want to applaud organisations like Each, Nova Employment , even the ridiculously under resourced Job Access but I know that Uncle Pencil is too sick to work and worse than that he’s too sick to stay at home alone all day.

For everyone who says they would not hesitate in employing someone with a mental illness, nothing  would make me happier than introducing you to Uncle Pencil.  Give me a call