[Congressional Record Volume 158, Number 162 (Monday, December 17, 2012)]
[House]
[Pages H6824-H6825]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]
{time} 2040
EXTENDING SYMPATHY TO THE PEOPLE OF NEWTOWN, CONNECTICUT
(Ms. KAPTUR asked and was given permission to address the House for 1
minute.)
Ms. KAPTUR. Mr. Speaker, I would like to rise in support of my dear
colleagues from Connecticut and throughout our Nation in extending
deepest sympathy and affection to the people of Newtown, Connecticut,
as they bear the pain of human loss in the recent Sandy Hook Elementary
School tragedy. Despite the heavy burden of grief they are carrying,
the citizens of Newtown have truly inspired our entire Nation. Their
spirit has lifted ours as they pay tribute to their children and the
heroic teachers and school personnel who so nobly acted to save lives.
Surely their extraordinary grace under pressure exemplifies what
President John Kennedy defined as courage.
Mr. Speaker, I am including in the Record the remarks of Liza Long in
an article she published about her son, Michael. We must listen to her.
And we must listen to the people of Newtown in memory of each of the
precious spirits that have graced it, for their highest aspirations,
for an America where this never happens again.
In aiding us in this journey of faith, this article poignantly
describes the condition of so many children in our country who are
hurting and ill with unquiet minds that even medical science cannot
fully explain. I commend President Obama for proposing a special
commission to listen to mothers like Liza and to the people of Newtown
as we shape a better future for us all.
Mr. Speaker, I also wish to commend the new Senator-elect from Hawaii
for her very poignant tribute of Senator Daniel Inouye with whom we had
the privilege of serving these many years.
[From The Blue Review, Dec. 16, 2012]
``I Am Adam Lanza's Mother'': A Mom's Perspective on The Mental Illness
Conversation in America
[By Liza Long]
Friday's horrific national tragedy--the murder of 20
children and six adults at Sandy Hook Elementary School in
Newtown, Connecticut--has ignited a new discussion on
violence in America. In kitchens and coffee shops across the
country, we tearfully debate the many faces of violence in
America: gun culture, media violence, lack of mental health
services, overt and covert wars abroad, religion, politics
and the way we raise our children. Liza Long, a writer based
in Boise, says it's easy to talk about guns. But it's time to
talk about mental illness.
While every family's story of mental illness is different,
and we may never know the whole of the Lanza's story, tales
like this one need to be heard--and families who live them
deserve our help.
Three days before 20 year-old Adam Lanza killed his mother,
then opened fire on a classroom full of Connecticut
kindergartners, my 13-year old son Michael (name changed)
missed his bus because he was wearing the wrong color pants
``I can wear these pants,'' he said, his tone increasingly
belligerent, the black-hole pupils of his eyes swallowing the
blue irises.
[[Page H6825]]
``They are navy blue,'' I told him. ``Your school's dress
code says black or khaki pants only.''
``They told me I could wear these,'' he insisted. ``You're
a stupid bitch. I can wear whatever pants I want to. This is
America. I have rights!''
``You can't wear whatever pants you want to,'' I said, my
tone affable, reasonable. ``And you definitely cannot call me
a stupid bitch. You're grounded from electronics for the rest
of the day. Now get in the car, and I will take you to
school.''
I live with a son who is mentally ill. I love my son. But
he terrifies me.
A few weeks ago, Michael pulled a knife and threatened to
kill me and then himself after I asked him to return his
overdue library books. His 7 and 9 year old siblings knew the
safety plan--they ran to the car and locked the doors before
I even asked them to. I managed to get the knife from
Michael, then methodically collected all the sharp objects in
the house into a single Tupperware container that now travels
with me. Through it all, he continued to scream insults at me
and threaten to kill or hurt me.
That conflict ended with three burly police officers and a
paramedic wrestling my son onto a gurney for an expensive
ambulance ride to the local emergency room. The mental
hospital didn't have any beds that day, and Michael calmed
down nicely in the ER, so they sent us home with a
prescription for Zyprexa and a follow-up visit with a local
pediatric psychiatrist.
We still don't know what's wrong with Michael. Autism
spectrum, ADHD, Oppositional Defiant or Intermittent
Explosive Disorder have all been tossed around at various
meetings with probation officers and social workers and
counselors and teachers and school administrators. He's been
on a slew of antipsychotic and mood altering pharmaceuticals,
a Russian novel of behavioral plans. Nothing seems to work.
At the start of seventh grade, Michael was accepted to an
accelerated program for highly gifted math and science
students. His IQ is off the charts. When he's in a good mood,
he will gladly bend your ear on subjects ranging from Greek
mythology to the differences between Einsteinian and
Newtonian physics to Doctor Who. He's in a good mood most of
the time. But when he's not, watch out. And it's impossible
to predict what will set him off.
Several weeks into his new junior high school, Michael
began exhibiting increasingly odd and threatening behaviors
at school. We decided to transfer him to the district's most
restrictive behavioral program, a contained school
environment where children who can't function in normal
classrooms can access their right to free public babysitting
from 7:30-1:50 Monday through Friday until they turn 18.
The morning of the pants incident, Michael continued to
argue with me on the drive. He would occasionally apologize
and seem remorseful. Right before we turned into his school
parking lot, he said, ``Look, Mom, I'm really sorry. Can I
have video games back today?''
``No way,'' I told him. ``You cannot act the way you acted
this morning and think you can get your electronic privileges
back that quickly.''
His face turned cold, and his eyes were full of calculated
rage. ``Then I'm going to kill myself,'' he said. ``I'm going
to jump out of this car right now and kill myself.''
That was it. After the knife incident, I told him that if
he ever said those words again, I would take him straight to
the mental hospital, no ifs, ands, or buts. I did not
respond, except to pull the car into the opposite lane,
turning left instead of right.
``Where are you taking me?'' he said, suddenly worried.
``Where are we going?''
``You know where we are going,'' I replied.
``No! You can't do that to me! You're sending me to hell!
You're sending me straight to hell!''
I pulled up in front of the hospital, frantically waiving
for one of the clinicians who happened to be standing
outside. ``Call the police,'' I said. ``Hurry.''
Michael was in a full-blown fit by then, screaming and
hitting. I hugged him close so he couldn't escape from the
car. He bit me several times and repeatedly jabbed his elbows
into my rib cage. I'm still stronger than he is, but I won't
be for much longer.
The police came quickly and carried my son screaming and
kicking into the bowels of the hospital. I started to shake,
and tears filled my eyes as I filled out the paperwork--
``Were there any difficulties with... at what age did your
child.., were there any problems with.. has your child ever
experienced.. does your child have...''
At least we have health insurance now. I recently accepted
a position with a local college, giving up my freelance
career because when you have a kid like this, you need
benefits. You'll do anything for benefits. No individual
insurance plan will cover this kind of thing.
For days, my son insisted that I was lying--that I made the
whole thing up so that I could get rid of him. The first day,
when I called to check up on him, he said, ``I hate you. And
I'm going to get my revenge as soon as I get out of here.''
By day three, he was my calm, sweet boy again, all
apologies and promises to get better. I've heard those
promises for years. I don't believe them anymore.
On the intake form, under the question, ``What are your
expectations for treatment?'' I wrote, ``I need help.''
And I do. This problem is too big for me to handle on my
own. Sometimes there are no good options. So you just pray
for grace and trust that in hindsight, it will all make
sense.
I am sharing this story because I am Adam Lanza's mother. I
am Dylan Klebold's and Eric Harris's mother. I am James
Holmes's mother. I am Jared Loughner's mother. I am Seung-Hui
Cho's mother. And these boys--and their mothers--need help.
In the wake of another horrific national tragedy, it's easy
to talk about guns. But it's time to talk about mental
illness.
According to Mother Jones, since 1982, 61 mass murders
involving firearms have occurred throughout the country. Of
these, 43 of the killers were white males, and only one was a
woman. Mother Jones focused on whether the killers obtained
their guns legally (most did). But this highly visible sign
of mental illness should lead us to consider how many people
in the U.S. live in fear, like I do.
When I asked my son's social worker about my options, he
said that the only thing I could do was to get Michael
charged with a crime. ``If he's back in the system, they'll
create a paper trail,'' he said. ``That's the only way you're
ever going to get anything done. No one will pay attention to
you unless you've got charges.''
I don't believe my son belongs in jail. The chaotic
environment exacerbates Michael's sensitivity to sensory
stimuli and doesn't deal with the underlying pathology. But
it seems like the United States is using prison as the
solution of choice for mentally ill people. According to
Human Rights Watch, the number of mentally ill inmates in
U.S. prisons quadrupled from 2000 to 2006, and it continues
to rise--in fact, the rate of inmate mental illness is five
times greater (56 percent) than in the non-incarcerated
population.
With state-run treatment centers and hospitals shuttered,
prison is now the last resort for the mentally ill--Rikers
Island, the LA County Jail and Cook County Jail in Illinois
housed the nation's largest treatment centers in 2011.
No one wants to send a 13-year old genius who loves Harry
Potter and his snuggle animal collection to jail. But our
society, with its stigma on mental illness and its broken
healthcare system, does not provide us with other options.
Then another tortured soul shoots up a fast food restaurant.
A mall. A kindergarten classroom. And we wring our hands and
say, ``Something must be done.''
I agree that something must be done. It's time for a
meaningful, nation-wide conversation about mental health.
That's the only way our nation can ever truly heal.
God help me. God help Michael. God help us all.
____________________