Proud of the cushion I made yesterday. Leather ties! Since I have come out of the winter episode I had, which was full-on - voices, hallucinations, delusions, everything - I have been really busy! I needed a cushion for my chair - it actually needs to be reupholstered, but I chose this option instead. I went to the local Jo-Ann, bought the material 40% off, and the cotton batting and the leather ties and made it myself! I had to do the whole thing by hand because my sewing machine mysteriously rusted. It was stored in the hall closet, I don't know why it rusted - there were no signs of water or dripping. Anyway, voila! It only took just over an hour to make. I'm thrilled because my sewing, especially by hand, is a bit ropey at best. But it's working as intended and I happen to like the style too. Brown is one of my favorite colors. Same with my ex-husband. In fact, when I asked him his favorite color, it was like it sealed the deal. People rarely answer brown.
I also had to buy a chandelier for the kitchen. This is because I broke the one we had by throwing dishes at it when I was hearing voices. I went to Lowe's and I was surprised how the choices have changed so much since we last bought the existing chandelier back in the Seventies. You can make your kitchen look like Starbucks if you want. They have those colored glass pendant lights - loads of them. I chose one needing five lightbulbs - I work at the kitchen table sometimes and need the light to see clearly there. It has glass shades, but not colors. It's brushed nickel and a kind of sheer white frosted glass shade. I also picked up some paint swatches because I need to paint the kitchen and my bedroom. Same problem. Was hearing voices and threw things at the wall and caused holes, which I have already spackled up. It looks rustic right now, lol. Actually, it's not that funny. It is expensive to do these repairs, but after many years I am ready to do them. It feels right. Dad has been totally cool about all of it. He never said a word to me about all this damage. We are also having to replace two window panes in the kitchen because of my temper. So yeah, it's good to be on a better medicine. I'm hoping to start painting again - my oil paintings - next week. They are drying finally, the last ones I did. I need them to dry so I can store them and paint more. It's always hard to wait for that. I'm going to have to figure something out. Thing is, I paint them as fast as I can make them, so it's stop start like that, waiting for them to dry. I'm pleased though, I have some good color combinations coming up I think. I have started to blend unusual colors, and will continue doing that. All this activity is just a Godsend. I was sleeping 16-18 hours a day on Haldol last year, and could barely stay awake to eat. Now I'm on fire, thinking of projects, working on the house, even cleaning! Must be Spring.
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Coast of Cornwall, UK, late 1990s. This is a photo of a photo from film, one of the few relics I have left from my marriage. You can see that I had actually cut the photo and I glued it back together. My husband and I had wonderful walks on the cliffs of this beautiful district. His parents have a farm there. We went on walks like this daily when we visited. It's a miracle that I still have even this damaged photograph. I threw out so much when I moved back here to my Dad's. This photo was actually retrieved from the garbage can at least once. I wasn't angry when I was throwing things out, but I was upset and despondent. All my possessions from that time were just sitting there, none of it had a life on it's own, without him.
I went to Barnes and Noble on Tuesday, something I have started doing again since discarding my library from London, along with everything else. I wanted to read some poetry by Pablo Neruda, and our little, provincial store does tend to carry his works, if nothing else. I found this poem in a small book. It was so small it could fit in the palm of my hand. (No Title) "We threw to the bottom of the sea, all that we learned was of no use to us: we begin again, we end again death and life. And here we survive, pure, with the purity that we created, broader than the earth that could not lead us astray eternal as the fire that will burn as long as life endures". This is "moving on" for me. Staying in love. It would be absurd to think of taking someone else into my life. I'm not sad, I'm happy. I am as happy as I have ever been in life, bar my years with him. He's remarried now, with two beautiful daughters. I am glad about that, it's everything I would have wished for him. I didn't have my diagnosis at the time, but I knew something serious and permanent was wrong with me. It was schizophrenia in the end. He is reluctant to speak to me now, but he did phone last year and it was a lovely surprise. I was unable to answer the phone, but I saved the message until erasing it by accident, which is just as well probably. I don't think he understands mental illness. He is an ultimately blissful human being, with a wonderful sense of humor and most affectionate with it, but I don't think he could have coped with my behavior all these years. It probably would have driven us apart anyway. I remember him well and I can say that my love has lasted. Forsythia, across the street, Spring 2016. I have been reading over my posts here for the past few weeks and I'm noticing how uneven they are, in terms of writing ability, ability to think. I apologise. For instance, I don't really think that people are accessing my photographs and changing them. When I wrote that, I was having such a hard time not completely losing it - full-on ranting about everything I could think of. I'm disappointed. I try to put my best foot forward here, summing up three or four days at a time. I'm trying to offer hope to other schizophrenics, but I kind of had to be, by default, true to my subtitle, "life with schizophrenia". I haven't had an episode that bad and that long (over two months) since 2009, which was my last two stays in hospital - back to back in December. It was then that, for the first time in 10 years, on my 11th hospital stay, that my doctor finally sat me down and talked to me about schizophrenia and medication and follow-up appointments. Before, I would be sent home with a bottle of pills and when that was done that was it. I would finish the pills, then nothing, no follow up appointments or anything. For those who don't know, I started Latuda in September last year, dropping the Haldol that month after titration had finished. I think I can safely assume that I need to have my dose of Latuda increased.
Since my episode, my mind has been shaken up, my attitude adjusted and my energy level increased. I'm not actually happy about that. Late last year, during my golden months and weeks with Latuda - I do like this med - I was starting to paint, I had my camera up and running, I got a new car, my Dad set up a Special Needs Trust for my brother and myself, I was starting to dress with a bit of style, brushing my hair every day again, stuff like that... In short, all my worries were swept away and I had begun to think again and do things again that I enjoyed. I was in daily contact with my schizophrenic friends around the world, I was full of hope - I even discussed putting some of my films on the web with a view toward possible work. Work was tentative, but I was thinking and feeling good - great even. I enjoyed thinking of my ex-husband every day as I looked out my window at McDonald's in the the drive-thru. For some reason, that was my wistful thinking time. I enjoyed thinking about him and all his success in life. But now, I'm not able to relax like that. I'm a bit militant, as if I have had a stern talking to about the waste and the dangers of daydreaming. I resent this. I had developed a comfortable pace for possible recovery, and I had set a prospective time line of three years to think about work. I wanted three years without an episode before I would consider it. Then I got hit by the episode. Winter sneaked by while I struggled to sleep, to feed myself, to keep appointments. It was horrible. I can't bring myself to describe the hallucinations and delusions, but they were almost insurmountable. I thought about checking into the hospital again, but I so want this Latuda to work, to be the one. You know? I have my appointment with my psychiatrist on April 14. I will tell him about how it went since I last saw him in January. At that time, I had only had the hallucinations and voices for less than a week, so I told him I would like to keep my doses the same until I could see the scope of the problem. I did this because, unfathomably, he offered to decrease my antidepressant, not up my antipsychotic. I still think that is just daft. I don't know. He's not a permanent doctor, he's temporary until they can find someone permanent. Still, it's unsettling, but luckily the law and common practice mean that I can have a say in my treatment. I feel confident that upping the Latuda is the answer and that my original doctor would concur. I hope my appointment goes smoothly and that I make sense when I explain my point of view... Other than all of this, I am waiting for my paintings to dry, so I can make new ones. This is always funny to me, I'm like checking them all the time, which leaves fingerprints. I'm like so ready to paint more. And tomorrow my Dad and I will be meeting the Trust lawyer, to pick up the revised copy of the trust/will. I think it's absolutely lovely of my Dad to include me in the meeting and to let me make changes. I feel so incredibly lucky in life to have such a devoted Dad. He researched for a long time before he found out about the Trust. It's especially for people on Disability, so they don't have their benefits taken away, but can have emergency funds for "special needs". So that is what I'm doing this week, in addition to window shopping generally, which is my new tonic for getting out of the house. Keeps me from waiting for the mailman. I am hoping for responses to the ream of letters I wrote a couple of weeks ago. I'll keep you posted. Dogwood Tree, Spring 2016. I have a few pictures of the blooming flowers and trees in my immediate neighborhood which I will share in the coming days and weeks. This year, they came out about three weeks earlier than last year and we had a relatively mild winter, from what I can remember. My winter episode clouds my memory. I hardly went out the whole of February. This meant I had extra money to spend in March, and I have had fun with it. Feeling better, clearer, but not totally hallucination-free until yesterday, I spent lots on postage and some markers and brushes and inks for my calendar and journal. I'm glad to be feeling like doing all this again - decorating my calendar and diary. It cheers me up and gives me something to look back on. My calendars for 2012 and 2011 are quite bare - I was having a hard time with the Haldol. 2013, I don't have one at all, and only half of 2014 - I bought a student's calendar that included 2014 from September that year through 2015. Spring 2015 marks the beginning of my Latuda and also the arrival of my camera, which I am very happy to have.
Yesterday, I went to our town's only totally real, authentic, Italian coffee bar. The people who run it are from Naples, Italy, which is where I lived as a child. I totally love it there. I had a cappuccino, a beautiful cannoli, and a couple of cigarettes while I wrote in my journal, which is already more than half full. I just got it in January. I had a lot to write this year, while I was hearing voices, and some of it, as a result, doesn't make a lot of sense on reading it back. But I am back to normal now, and will ask my doctor to up my Latuda next month when I next see him. I think it makes sense. I'm new to the Latuda and I haven't had such a long and hateful episode since I have been permanently on meds, which began in 2009. So it was quite noticeable and disturbing. Glad to be feeling better. I'm rediscovering town. I started the shopping to distract myself from voices, but it was hard. I thought people and cars and everything looked weird, as if from other planets. I really believed that they were somehow floating in from space in their fancy cars. This was the manageable part of my episode. All I had to do was keep my hands on the steering wheel and concentrate on the road. But the shopping has been really good for me. I bought a new scarf, and some things for the house and the art supplies I mentioned, plus a gift for an estranged friend, which I mentioned in a previous post. I mailed all my letters. I spent about $60 on postage this month! It was nice going into TJ Maxx three or four times a week to just acquaint myself with the new and the here and now. I loved all the beautiful pillows and shoes and housewares. I felt normal doing that. Usually I am at home, here, at the computer, or painting in the garage or writing in my journal. I do that all year. So yes, it was nice to get out and spend some money. I went to the Art supply stores many times and the Staples store too. I love all that - canvasses, pens, inks, brushes. I have a coupon to use this afternoon at the Art store, I want to buy a rainbow pack of sharpies - the colours are unusual. Off blues and some lovely deep burgundies. I wanted sepia ink, but couldn't find it. Then I went into my old bedroom, which I usually never visit unless my Mom is in town, and found a bottle. It was old so I had to shake and stir it well, and I added some india ink to make it a richer brown. I was pleased with my judgement on this. I thought about sharing a bit of my journal with you all today, but I name names and I don't want to cause trouble with friends. Things are going well, I'm just thoughtful and a bit more perceptive these days. Anyway, it's interesting to me, but would probably be boring for you. I noticed, in writing, that I am probably a bit self obsessed, and I will mention this to my therapist on the 29th. I noticed that almost every sentence begins with the word "I". So I'm going to try and be more narrative, descriptive and succinct. I would rather read about having had a cigarette and a coffee in a brief sentence, than 10,000 words on how I feel about so and so. You know? My calendars for the past 10 years. I spent some time reading these calendars last weekend. My episode has had me a bit hyper - to do lists, notes, doodles. It was interesting to read them. I was not on meds much of that time, and I like that I kept myself very busy. I found old letters, even a missing cd of Pablo Casals playing the Bach Cello Concertos, which I thought had gone the way of all the rest of my collected music - the trash. The main thing I noticed is that I was happy and optimistic, even though I was having a hard time with voices and so on. I wrote, painted, photographed, knitted, shot, directed and edited a film about an artist friend. I remember feeling so stunned during those years about the end of my marriage and I was trying desperately to keep up appearances, even to myself. I wanted to live as I had lived with him in London, full schedule, great friends to see and travel with, all that. I was in fact alone, as I am now still, but it made me feel better to write to friends. I wrote them proper letters, and painted on them. I wanted to entertain them with these letters and I took my ex mother-in-law's enthusiasm as a pattern. She wrote wonderful letters. We used to fight over who would get to open them and read them aloud. I was happy to lose those battles.
I looked at these old books because last week I started writing letters again. I went through my address book - which I had desperately ransacked over the years - and ended up writing twenty letters. I loved doing this, but I was concerned that I was falling back into obsessive tendencies. I mean, no one writes and mails real letters anymore. But I did it anyway for two days. Happily, two people have already responded. I'm quite over the moon about this. One of them is my ancient painting professor from university, who has kept in touch all these years, even visiting me in London and Los Angeles. I made arrangements to visit him after a lunch I am having there in town with a bipolar friend I have recently been in touch with. I mean, these dates are golden to me. I actually have something other than a doctor's appointment to write in my calendar. Friends. I just don't know how I go on without them in my weekly life, but somehow I do and have for many years now. My friends are all in other cities and countries, so I rarely have such a treat. My therapist is my only face to face conversant I have, and I love her for that. Three of the people I wrote to are people who had kind of dropped me, because of my erratic, unexplained behavior due to schizophrenia. I took the time to explain and engage, talking from memory of our last correspondences, all that. I am really happy that one of those people, a sorority sister, sent a really warm and lovely response. I didn't stop smiling all day yesterday because of it. I'm trying not to get my hopes up, but it has only been a week since I sent the letters and maybe I'll hear back from more of them. In any case, it was good for my mind and helped to combat the voices, to concentrate on these lovely people by writing to them. Snail mail, I absolutely love it. I love all forms of communication - email, social media, phone and video calls. I totally depend on them. Yesterday afternoon. I'm so pleased. I am feeling better. This episode, which has lasted at least six weeks, is finally subsiding. I still have visions and low voices, but it's pleasant. This hallucination is of an old friend. When he gets annoying, I recommend food for him and he's happy, lol. I see all this happening as I speak to him. It's kind of funny, and as it's calm, I don't mind as much. This friend and I ended on a bad note many years ago, because of my schizophrenia, and last week I wrote him a letter for the first time in 17 years. He bought his place in New York and has a teenage daughter, since we last saw each other, so I'm sending him a set of Royal Doulton coffee cups/mugs and a beautiful, embroidered purse for his daughter. I had the extra money because I was so under the weather with the episode last month that I didn't go out or over budget. I'm just hoping he's not still mad at me, or I could have return post in the mail. Return to sender.
I made three paintings last week, waiting for everything to dry. That's 19 paintings altogether and counting. I have a coupon for the art supply store here in town and I'm going to use it on some more canvasses this afternoon. I have plenty, I just like to catch a discount, since I know I'll use them all anyway. When they are not on sale, I can't really enjoy buying them so much. I have been getting them half-price. So it's nice. I've been doing that since last October. As is typical for these episodes, the long ones, the ones that are as if I am not on meds, I think of living forever without dying. Death seems absurd. Each obituary in the news or on Facebook seems impossible, and as if foul play or lack of self awareness or the will to live, caused it. As i come out of it, I begin estimating my remaining life span, and start to relax a little, because I don't feel as if I have to save my parents all day long, who are in their Eighties and both quite healthy. I'm lucky like that. Kitchen table as writing desk 2016. Feeling a bit more balanced. I saw my therapist yesterday and it was a kind of rapid fire conversation. I was able to talk about the voices and the visual phenomenons a little, and she was able to give me perspective. I still have voices and visions, but I have, for the moment, reached an open road with them. I'm not so beleaguered and weary and frustrated generally. It's good. I made an appointment with my therapist for next week, as I have decided that two weeks is too long for me to wait. I'm thrilled that Medicaid covers therapy. I don't know what I would do without it. She is the only person I talk to about my illness and life in general. I mean, I call my mom every day, but it's just chit chat, which I quite like. So therapy it is.
I took this picture last night of my kitchen table. One of the things that I like to do to keep sane is write letters to friends and family. I wrote eleven letters yesterday, with watercolors on them. The people to whom I wrote are, many of them, people I have lost touch with. Schizophrenia and the divorce has isolated me from a few people, and I wanted to explain, and offer hope and good news generally. I'm hoping that this will just kind of break open my social life a bit. I was pretty embarrassed by my conduct with schizophrenia with some of these people and I'm just gently trying to reopen doors - or at least knock quietly, in case anyone is "home", as it were. I don't know what I expect, but as my late former mother-in-law once said, no such effort is ever wasted. I painted two paintings this morning. I have been clearing up and cleaning a bit, and I moved some wet paintings to dry somewhere else, giving me more room than I was working with. It feels nice. I'm blending new colors and just generally taking it one painting at a time. The voices and visions are helping me look and see new ideas which, ordinarily, would make me very nervous, but I am sticking with my meds and my sleep and eating schedule, which is the best I can do. I can't get rid of the voices and visions, I have tried - begged, pleaded, given orders... lol. It's not easy, but as I say, I have reached a point at which I can at least carry on with my life each day. So this is what I am doing. Cave Springs, November 2015. Feeling a bit more hopeful today. Did a bit more cleaning around the house and my brother offered me some ice cream, which is nice of him, and a new development. So glad to see that he is feeling better generally, especially since things weren't so great in the last couple of weeks or ten days or so.
Still feeling like I have to complain too much, but I enjoyed watching some good food videos on the internet this afternoon, after lunch. They are called "Tasty". They are fascinating to watch and I think the food looks fantastic. I used to watch the Food Network on our cable television a few summers ago, but I do change my habits after a while. Anyway, nice to know they are all out there still working, around the world. I don't cook much for myself anymore. I use microwave dinners, which I love. Less washing up, since I share the kitchen with my brother and he cooks - uses more dishes and so on. It works out well. I have taken a couple days or more away from painting my paintings, but I can paint one more new one before I leave them to dry, so that's nice to know. I'm happy that my friend I chat with on Facebook, who also has schizophrenia, is mostly feeling better. I like that she has her parents and brother to live with, and that she can watch her favorite soccer team on telly and go to her textiles class and all that. It's so great to have someone to keep in touch with. She is younger than me by about 20 years, but there is something about schizophrenia that bridges the gap, at least in terms of general experience. Certainly, I met some lovely people in all my hospital stays over the years, and nearly all of them were much younger. My schizophrenia was late onset. Mom's patio, November 2015. I'm a little disappointed. My photograph has been interfered with. I really preferred it the way I downloaded it. This kind of vandalism really disappoints me. I feel attacked. I know what I photograph. I took this photograph last autumn, on a visit to my Mom's house. It was nice to be there and I wanted to be able to post that today. I'm trying not to panic about it, hoping these fucking students will learn to take their own photographs and play with their own photographs instead of illegally accessing mine. This is a blog, not public property.
I deliberately post this blog for people who are interested in psychology or psychiatry, or for people who have schizophrenia, or for people who know me and just want to read it. My whole point is that schizophrenia is a journey and that it is important to be able to experience the weather. I have been trying to enjoy my Facebook newsfeed again, it's difficult. Same problem. People I don't know, or who think they know better than me are putting me through a stupid sanity test. It's fucking rude. I am disabled and even when I was feeling better, like last year, and I wrote about it, it is up to me whether or when I ever go back to work. I'm even scared to try and download my photograph again. I don't want to discover that I can't retrieve the same image quality. My camera package came with access to a free website for uploading photographs for others to see, or just for yourself to enjoy. It has been heavily tampered with and I'm trying not be angry, because if I am, they will make me complain for the rest of my stupid life. A life which is not, by the way, stupid. They changed the dates of my photographs, and I just don't like the way they changed the format at all. I don't want to see the photographs on a white background for a start. They originally had a nice dark grey. I also preferred the way I could see my most recent photographs first and scroll to the right for the older ones, in reverse date order of course. I'm sorry to go on like this about it, I would so much rather be writing about my perfectly reasonable progress like before. So I'm upset. I feel powerless to continue living the best life I can live, because of this inane interference. I'm more angry than depressed. Depressed I can live with, because it's normal. I mean, it has been 17 years of this for me, and I was finally mentally where I wanted to be. I mean, of course, I'm depressed. I didn't want to leave my home or my life as I was living it, all those years ago, and things are irrevocably changed for me anyway, as I was tattooed, which I never would have done, given my own choice in life. I mean, I just try to go on and I rarely wear sleeves short enough to show it. This is my only choice and it's the best I can do. But sure, I'm like, if my husband knew that this abuse is what I was to face after our divorce, he would be upset. I'm upset. The inanity of it all goes on. I'm tired of it. I don't forgive. That's my final statement on it. Sonic Drive In 2016. I have just been to the grocery store. With schizophrenia, it is important to insist on doing normal, healthy things. I love to go to the store. I usually try to go once a week as a goal, usually on a Friday, since that is when my brother has his shopping done too. I am so glad to be in a place where I can get what I like. I love what they have in the store. It's perfect for me. It's like I'm back to taking care of myself, like I did before I was married. Lean Cuisines, and now Weight Watchers and Michelina's. It's just great. I can't really enjoy trying to cook from nothing for myself. I tried that for several years, and I just really love American convenience. Glad to be back.
I have been able to paint again a little. I'm trying not to be upset with how hard it is to stay sane with it. I mean, I'm just wanting to do what I know how to do. These paintings are a pleasure for me. I don't have to work so hard. I just need to concentrate, because they require straight lines - brush strokes. I did this on purpose. I don't want to be anything but focused on that. I posted a picture from the Sonic today. I just really like the way the afternoon sun was shining on the menu. I like to get the Asian Sweet Chili boneless chicken wings. They are delicious. Though last time I went I have to give them a could do better. I like them perfect, and that is what I expect. i have been able to stay in touch with my friend in England, who also has schizophrenia. This is nice. We keep each other kind of encouraged. We can be honest about our complaints and still see hope. I didn't really expect to meet such lovely people in my life, which sounds odd, I guess I was working too hard generally. But it is nice to be retired and on Disability and just to have time to appreciate all the lovely, talented people I have ever known. They are all great. This is why I love my computer, and also living here with a mail box and all that. I mean, when I was younger there was some excitement about a paperless society because of the advent of computers. But I went to school and studied art. I just love my options. Also, I have lived overseas and such in the past, and I rely on the international postal service. They are fantastic. |
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