Several of my friends from the outside have asked me to tell them more about Talky...
I first wrote about him last month. Talky lives in a world of his own. I suppose he feels safe there. I've seen this often with those who are mentally ill. They will try to find a hiding place deep inside the recesses of their minds, and stay there. No doubt, Talky feels a sense of security by having retreated into his own delusional world, although he probably doesn't know he's delusional. It may be less painful for him this way than having to deal with reality. And for a fragile soul like Talky, imaginary friends can be controlled. Neither can they hurt nor betray him.
Therefore, whenever I see Talky in the yard, or when I pass him in the corridors, I make it my business to say hello to him. Sometimes he acknowledges me, and sometimes he doesn't. Yet his lips continue to move because he likes to talk to himself.
Unfortunately, however, there are prisoners, although few in number, who try to make it their business to tease Talky. They're bullies who get pleasure by tormenting the weak. No wonder, Talky lives in his own world. The real world can be a cruel place. Nevertheless, most of the men don't pay Talky any mind. They neither threaten nor tease him. Some guys even feel sorry for Talky and will offer him a smoke. But when someone sees Talky for the first time, it can be a startling sight.
Sadly, the facility offers little in the way of therapy for men like Talky other than providing them with a steady diet of psychotropic medications. As with many prisons, a sizable number of their inmates receive these kinds of drugs. No doubt, correctional facilities are a gold mine for pharmaceutical companies. Such medications are given mostly for the purpose of control. They are prescribed by clinical psychiatrists to help keep a prisoner calm, and to keep schizophrenic patients stable.
These medications, I believe, are a legal "high" which can do a lot of damage to a man's body and brain when they're taken over a long period of time. Of course, this is merely my opinion as both a lay person and as an interested observer. Talky, for all I know, has been mentally ill for much of his life. Surely such a steady regimen of psychiatric medications have already had both short and long-term effects. He looks frail and emaciated. His prison issued clothes hang like oversized rags on his thin frame.
Fortunately, there are some psychosocial services that are available here, too. The prison employs at least several mental health nurses and social workers. However, their services are geared to keep an inmate functioning at acceptable levels. I truly doubt if any of the mental health staff will tell you that they expect to see their patients being cured. In this environment, just getting one of their charges to stay reasonably balanced, mentally, and emotionally, would be considered a success. Not having a man act out violently is something of a victory for the staff, and a worthy accomplishment as well.
Yet in spite of whatever mental condition Talky suffers from, or what other problems he might have, Talky somehow manages to make his way to the chapel most Sunday mornings to attend the ten o'clock service. Talky will walk in the doorway along with everyone else. Then, after getting a warm greeting from the ushers, he will do his usual and look for a seat in the rear. He apparently feels most comfortable in the last row, or at least one that's close to it. And for anyone who's not familiar with Talky or his condition, because he moves his lips incessantly, one would think he was merely engaging in an act of silent prayer. I'd watch him as his cracked brown lips would quiver throughout the service as Talky continues his non-stop conversation with his invisible friends.
I think, too, that the choir's music has much to do with helping to quiet Talky's mind. Because, before the service actually begins, the keyboarders will start to play their instruments in order to help make the chapel's atmosphere more welcoming. No doubt, therefore, that the soothing music will cause Talky to relax. From my vantage point at the front of the chapel, and as I sit on the elevated platform which overlooks the congregation, I could observe Talky's actions. His face would get a look of peacefulness and serenity. I could see how after a few minutes of being bathed in the sweet music he'd let out a soft sigh and just sit there in contentment.
Whereas, whenever I'd run into Talky in other areas of the facility, he would appear agitated and restless. He would startle easily. In addition, his face would be taut. He'd have a tense expression. While in the chapel, Talky appears to be at peace.
For Talky, the chapel is like an oasis in the desert. It serves as a shelter from the storms of life. It's also a positive and affirming environment. And this is because, as ordinary lay persons who have no seminary training of any kind, we rely only upon help from God as we try to encourage and strengthen the body of Christ through the Scriptures. We also seek to demonstrate brotherly love.
I believe, too, that Talky understands that Jesus Christ loves him. Likewise, I believe that only Christ's power is capable of penetrating the layers of Talky's illness in order to reach his heart and soul. For Talky and for everyone else, there really is hope in the Lord.
D.B.
Therefore, whenever I see Talky in the yard, or when I pass him in the corridors, I make it my business to say hello to him. Sometimes he acknowledges me, and sometimes he doesn't. Yet his lips continue to move because he likes to talk to himself.
Unfortunately, however, there are prisoners, although few in number, who try to make it their business to tease Talky. They're bullies who get pleasure by tormenting the weak. No wonder, Talky lives in his own world. The real world can be a cruel place. Nevertheless, most of the men don't pay Talky any mind. They neither threaten nor tease him. Some guys even feel sorry for Talky and will offer him a smoke. But when someone sees Talky for the first time, it can be a startling sight.
Sadly, the facility offers little in the way of therapy for men like Talky other than providing them with a steady diet of psychotropic medications. As with many prisons, a sizable number of their inmates receive these kinds of drugs. No doubt, correctional facilities are a gold mine for pharmaceutical companies. Such medications are given mostly for the purpose of control. They are prescribed by clinical psychiatrists to help keep a prisoner calm, and to keep schizophrenic patients stable.
These medications, I believe, are a legal "high" which can do a lot of damage to a man's body and brain when they're taken over a long period of time. Of course, this is merely my opinion as both a lay person and as an interested observer. Talky, for all I know, has been mentally ill for much of his life. Surely such a steady regimen of psychiatric medications have already had both short and long-term effects. He looks frail and emaciated. His prison issued clothes hang like oversized rags on his thin frame.
Fortunately, there are some psychosocial services that are available here, too. The prison employs at least several mental health nurses and social workers. However, their services are geared to keep an inmate functioning at acceptable levels. I truly doubt if any of the mental health staff will tell you that they expect to see their patients being cured. In this environment, just getting one of their charges to stay reasonably balanced, mentally, and emotionally, would be considered a success. Not having a man act out violently is something of a victory for the staff, and a worthy accomplishment as well.
Yet in spite of whatever mental condition Talky suffers from, or what other problems he might have, Talky somehow manages to make his way to the chapel most Sunday mornings to attend the ten o'clock service. Talky will walk in the doorway along with everyone else. Then, after getting a warm greeting from the ushers, he will do his usual and look for a seat in the rear. He apparently feels most comfortable in the last row, or at least one that's close to it. And for anyone who's not familiar with Talky or his condition, because he moves his lips incessantly, one would think he was merely engaging in an act of silent prayer. I'd watch him as his cracked brown lips would quiver throughout the service as Talky continues his non-stop conversation with his invisible friends.
I think, too, that the choir's music has much to do with helping to quiet Talky's mind. Because, before the service actually begins, the keyboarders will start to play their instruments in order to help make the chapel's atmosphere more welcoming. No doubt, therefore, that the soothing music will cause Talky to relax. From my vantage point at the front of the chapel, and as I sit on the elevated platform which overlooks the congregation, I could observe Talky's actions. His face would get a look of peacefulness and serenity. I could see how after a few minutes of being bathed in the sweet music he'd let out a soft sigh and just sit there in contentment.
Whereas, whenever I'd run into Talky in other areas of the facility, he would appear agitated and restless. He would startle easily. In addition, his face would be taut. He'd have a tense expression. While in the chapel, Talky appears to be at peace.
For Talky, the chapel is like an oasis in the desert. It serves as a shelter from the storms of life. It's also a positive and affirming environment. And this is because, as ordinary lay persons who have no seminary training of any kind, we rely only upon help from God as we try to encourage and strengthen the body of Christ through the Scriptures. We also seek to demonstrate brotherly love.
I believe, too, that Talky understands that Jesus Christ loves him. Likewise, I believe that only Christ's power is capable of penetrating the layers of Talky's illness in order to reach his heart and soul. For Talky and for everyone else, there really is hope in the Lord.
D.B.
