All Right, Leeland, Sit Down.

Note:  This post deals with a general response to a specific situation.  I don't know, nor would I tell you if I did, what Mr. Eisenburg's mental health history is.  I don't know if he has reached out for help, and if he has, I don't know to whom.  So my rant is based on what I know to be available, not on what his actions may have been. 

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Why, yes, as a matter of fact, I do live in that Rochester, New Hampshire.  The one that was shut down and placed on hold for 6 hours on Friday because one man decided to have a very public, very mean-spirited temper tantrum.  The one that was on the national news because instead of holding the local grocery store at gunpoint, this gentleman decided to camp out in Hillary Clinton's office, thereby making it a political issue instead of just a manipulative, petulant gesture.

Everyone came through unharmed, and Leeland Eisenburg is now in county lockup, awaiting formal charges and eventual trial and a general extension of his 15 minute of fame, which, frankly, should have expired long before now.

Leeland's actions have aroused my pique, and I thought I'd just take a minute to let him in on my thoughts, indirectly because I really don't need to spend time alone in a room with him, thankyouverymuch. 

Because I could have.  My job is to do psychological and suicide assessments in the local emergency rooms, and it has certainly happened in the past that an individual, on their way to jail, has made a suicidal statement and ends up with a several-hour side trip to the hospital.  I was working on Friday - my phone is still smoking and wheezing from all the extra activity - and it was within the realm of possibility that I would be called in to chat with Mr. Eisenburg about his state of mental health.  My shift ended and I was not called, for which I'm grateful.  Once upon a time, I'd have thought it was wicked cool to be involved in such a big news story; now I just want to be home with my babies.

So, Leeland, pull up a chair and have a seat for a moment, if you would.  I have a few choice words, which I couldn't have shared with you on Friday if I'd been working and I can't now, but we can pretend.

I'm not mad that you're criticizing the system.  The mental health system in the whole country is damaged and barely functioning, and New Hampshire is certainly no exception.  We have approximately 1/4 as many psychiatric inpatient beds as we need, which means that psychiatric hospitals have become crisis centers instead of treatment facilities.  You go, you get stabilized, you get medicated, and then you get sent home and told to follow up with the local community mental health provider.  You won't stay long enough to even determine whether you're allergic to the medications you receive, much less to start to see a change in symptoms.  So the inpatient facilities aren't up to par.

And the community mental health centers aren't much better.  There's no such thing as free treatment on a consistent basis; sometimes we get a grant and can offer 6 sessions free of charge, but more often we have to rely on insurance and a sliding fee for those without jobs or insurance.  Let's be honest, though.  The sliding fee starts at under $10 a session; that's not unreasonable.  It's two packs of cigarettes, or one afternoon's drinking, should those happen to be your particular vices.  And that's only for therapy; seeing an actual psychiatrist takes a lot longer and costs more.  There's not a terribly long wait-list for services, but when you're in mental or emotional pain, it can seem like a long time, and I understand that.

 

I'm also not mad that you have a long history in the criminal justice system and have, according to the media, experienced and perpetrated some pretty horrific things.  Life is not fair, and you've been in more than your share of unpleasant situations.

So, by all means, Leeland, criticize the system.  Air your complaints.  Speak up.  The only way the system will change is through conscious effort by motivated citizens.  Fight the power.

 

But don't, don't do it like that.   Don't hold strangers, and by association an entire town, hostage.  For one thing, you really ruined those kids' day.  And they were kids - who else has the job flexibility and time to volunteer at a political campaign office in the early afternoon on a Friday?  Young people, passionate people, willing and able to bend the schedule of the rest of their lives in order to try to make the changes in the system that they want to see.  You know, the right way.

For another thing, though, you upset my children, and therefore me.  My three-year-old son's preschool was close enough to the campaign office to be placed on official lockdown -  plywood in the windows,  extra  telephone lines in place, double layers of locked doors and parents showing identification just to get near the building.  OK, I'll grant you, there's nothing wrong with a little extra security where children are concerned, but the tension and stress that went along with it all is unacceptable.  I'm fortunate and grateful to be able to say that my son's teachers handled it well, and that the children seemed unruffled; I'm not even sure they knew anything was going on.  But those teachers are barely more than children, too - none of them over 25 - and they didn't need that.

My daughter's school was geographically farther away, and so was placed on what they called a "soft lockdown."  This means that parents were allowed to go and pick the children up, but otherwise school remained in-session longer because they didn't want to spread buses out into the preexisting chaos.  There was no plywood in the window by the time I arrived, and everything seemed to be under control.  But I arrived at 3:00 - two hours after this all started.  The initial response was stronger and scarier.

My child had to hide underneath her desk.

My seven-year-old, my firstborn, heard the word "Lockdown" announced over the PA system, and she knew what that meant.  That's a sad statement on the world all by itself; when I was seven, I'd have stood there, blinking and wondering, without a clue, but she was born into a post-Columbine world and has had drills for this in the past.  When they hear that word, they know to drop what they're doing, crouch down, and curl up into tiny, defenseless balls underneath their desks. 

No one knew what was going on, in those early moments.  And again, I'd prefer that they overreact than underreact when it comes to my child's safety.  But that lack of information just added to the sense of fear and confusion in the classroom.

She thought there was a stranger in the school who wanted to hurt kids.  She thought there was someone dangerous stalking the hallways.  She thought she was unsafe.

And that, Leeland, that is what really ticks me off.  You are an adult, your own legal guardian, and therefore presumably responsible for your own actions.  You planned this, and enacted it, with some conscious thought.  But your thought was all about you, and it was selfish and manipulative and wrong.  Because it caused other people to be scared and upset and confused.  It caused hurt.

The good news is, my daughter is a resilient and smart kid, and she kept her wits about her.  She was a little extra-clingy that night, needed a few extra hugs and reassurances, but there are worse ways to spend an evening.  My son barely knew anything had happened, and if he hadn't had an older sister to watch and emulate, he might never have known at all.

I don't believe the same can be said for everyone.  I don't think anyone was severely traumatized by it all, but who knows?  Who knows what a child's capacity is?  There were parents pacing the halls in my daughter's school, waiting for their children to be released from their classrooms, and sobbing.  Shaking.  Terrified. 

I spoke to one woman, and asked her, "Are you scared for yourself?  Do you think you're in danger?"  She shook her head no, hugged herself tightly.  I don't like to intervene with strangers, but sometimes it seems necessary.  "Because your children might think they're in danger, if they see you this upset.  They're going to take their cues from you."  She thought about it, and nodded, and stepped into the bathroom to wash her face.

When she came out, I apologized for interfering, but she shook her head.  "No, you're right," she said.  "I got caught up in the drama, but they'll believe me if I say everything is going to be all right."  I can't take credit for anything that woman did - she pulled herself together, and put on a strong face for her kids.  But I offered a reminder, and maybe things would have been a little rawer and more emotional in that house if I hadn't.  Who knows?

So, Leeland, that's why I'm mad.  Because I never should have had to picture my baby girl crawling under her desk, amidst the pencils and workbooks.  I never should have had to squint in the gloom of a plywood-encased preschool room to find my son.  And no one should have spent Friday afternoon rethinking their safety in this quiet little town.

Now, go away, please, Mr. Eisenburg.  I have better ways to spend my time.

Comments

[Mrs. Chicky]

Powerful post, Kate. One of the best things I've read in a long time. Thank you for sharing this with us.

[Jessica @ A Bushel and a Peck]

Extremely well-said.

[Miguelina]

This is not a rant. You make excellent points.

[margaret]

Wow what a great post. It's a shame that kids today have to know what a lockdown means! I'm with you, I wouldn't know what to do!

[Kristi]

Well said Kate.

[Major Bedhead]

What an excellent post, Kate!

[Patty]

Good post Kate.

[sandy shoes]

Thank you, Kate. For this post, for helping that woman pull herself together, for your work in the ER.

"Lockdown."

What a world.

[learningwoman]

What a great post. Well said.

[MommyCosm]

AMEN!
I'm from THAT Rochester, NH as well. Our kids had similar experiences that day.
Thank you for putting into words exactly what I have been feeling.