Summary

A mental health professional recounts their experiences working in a Skid Row clinic, revealing a mix of despair, compassion, and the profound impact of their work on both the patients and themselves.

Abstract

The narrative describes the daily realities of a mental health clinic in Skid Row, where staff and clients alike grapple with addiction, poverty, and societal neglect. Despite the challenging environment, marked by substance abuse among staff and sexual nepotism, the author finds a deep connection to the community, considering the clinic a personal temple and Skid Row a form of Heaven. The author's work involves not only providing therapy but also practical assistance, such as housing and citizenship, to those marginalized by society. Through moments of danger and tenderness, particularly an encounter with a tattooed man and a young cancer patient, the author reflects on the transformative power of compassion and the realness of human struggle and resilience.

Opinions

The author harbors a deep love for Skid Row, despite its harsh realities, viewing it as a place where true compassion and love can be practiced.
There is a strong critique of the societal disregard for the poor and mentally ill, as well as the hypocrisy within the system meant to help them.
The author identifies with Nietzsche's concept of the 'great despiser', expressing anger and sadness at the injustices faced by the clinic's clients.
The author finds personal spiritual significance in their work, equating the clinic with a temple and their daily routine with a religious ritual.
The narrative conveys a sense of hope and the belief that even in the most desperate situations, small acts of kindness and humanity can have a profound impact.

Skid Row is Heaven

When I would go to work for the Department of Mental Health, I would smell weed because the clinician sitting next to me would get high in the morning. Our supervisor was Asian-American; because of his genetic attribute, when metabolizing alcohol, his cheeks would go red like Howdy Doody’s. I knew this because he drank on the job. The district chief was having sex with someone in the office half his age in exchange for the promotion he gave her. Or maybe it was love.

It’s time to get drunk on the job. That’s what time it is.

I was angry at work everyday. This being the norm was society’s way of shitting on the poor, the mentally ill, the addicted, the minorites. Sane well-off White sober people — like me — would never get treated this way. The fact that my clinic was the place meant to help them saddened me. They deserved better than sexual nepotism and addicts posing as addiction counselors.

I was what Nietzsche called a ‘great despiser’. I hated because I loved. I loved Skid Row. I thought it was Heaven, only covered in human feces and needles. I thought this because if Jesus were to return to practice compassion and love, he would do it there, not be a life-coach in Beverly Hills with abs and perfect teeth. I thought this despite being Jewish. Nietzsche, Heaven, Jesus: things Jews don’t believe in.

I thought of my clinic as my temple. Everyday when I came in, I would touch the doorway and kiss my hand, as though I were kissing a mezuzah. I did this everyday for five years before one patient noticed.

Skid Row was Heaven and the mental health clinic was my temple.

I remember translating for a patient when a man began to urinate on the window from outside. I stared, fascinated at the shapes the cascading urine made on the window.

I remember pushing a woman in a wheelchair up the steep incline of 5th Street. The largest man I had ever seen in Skid Row, covered in tattoos up to his face (meaning gang affiliation) suddenly charged at us from across the street, screaming. I desperately wanted to let her go and run away so that I could live. But I did not want to abandon her. So I stayed. As he got close, he reached into a bag. I remember clearly thinking, I hope it’s quick.

He pulled out of the bag a blanket. And covered her. And stared at us with severe sincerity.

“You know God’s got you? You know that! God’s got you!”

God fucking had me.

I was Santa at a Christmas party for homeless children because no one more old or more gentile would volunteer. I was afraid the kids would somehow be able to tell I was Jewish, and so I would ruin the experience. And then I saw her. A little girl with no hair. Cancer. Her mother told me that her father had been deported and that she herself was pregnant. You hear this and you know there is nothing you can do.

I sat next to the girl and held her hand for about an hour. We never said a word. Her mom said I was the only man the girl would let touch her since her dad had gone.

The next year, I was Santa again. The girl was back. With hair.

I got people housed and watched them sleep on the floor of their new homes because the beds were too soft after years on the street. I got people citizenship after they had snuck into the country through desert and over river. I got people sober and received their sobriety chips: 30 days alcohol free, 6 months cocaine free, 1 year sex free. I carried a dozen of these on my keychain. I did these things because they were real. They were real.

Some of the work involved psychotherapy and some was putting out fires and much of the time, I would listen in horror to Hell. Those who had suffered the civil wars of El Salvador or Guatemala in particular had witnessed or survived events only demons could perpetrate on other humans. I would listen to this and go home and listen to Beethoven.

I gave my patients crystals because it gave them hope and because amethyst helps with nightmares. My patients gave me bananas because they were cheap, and I loved them. I would take them on field trips to the most beautiful parks and nature hikes in LA, just to show them that beauty could be normal. I had my patients take their shoes off and walk through the forest in Elysian Park, thinking how the name referred to Greek Heaven.

I felt seen because I was normal to them. They felt seen because we were one. I was part of something real.

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