We just had a big, fat, rain. Huge raindrops, streets flooded, the whole works. It was lovely. I learned to appreciate rain living in London for ten years... There though, rain is more of a daily mist, fine for bike riding or hiking... I just bought an umbrella and am pleased to say it works. It is not the umbrella I wanted, long with a cane handle and black in color... It's black, but it is a Totes umbrella, the folding kind. I miss London, every time it rained the umbrella sellers would come out, selling the type of umbrella I like. You can hook it on your backpack for fine weather... There's something about a summer rain that is so refreshing and it takes me back years, which I appreciate because life since schizophrenia has been lacking in memory-making activities. I hate this because I was so happy when I was normal, I had so many plans and activities and someone I loved to share them with. Now life is cups of tea and cigarettes. At least for now, I am trying to quit cigarettes before I turn 50 in August. And I really should let the tea go too, it's a hangover from my years in London... The grocery store I shop in has recently added PG Tips, the brand of tea I bought in England. I am a big one for these small comforts, but I'm wanting change in my life. Maybe if I just keep drinking tea and smoking cigarettes something will happen, it could. It would be comfortable. But all wisdom says to make change yourself. This is hard for me on a very limited budget, with schizophrenia. I thought about volunteering, but decided that I am still not stable enough for that, plus, I am very limited on gasoline for the car... Had to turn down a volunteer job in the library and at a radio station because of the distance. I live in a mid-size town, with two universities and a community college, so it's pretty spread out. I just couldn't pay for the gas to volunteer, plus, I still have episodes every week. The episodes have become a bit more manageable with hard work and prayer. The voices and hallucinations are more friendly than mean, as they have been for 16 years, and I have mastered the art of sleeping them off. Which is nice, but takes a hefty chunk out of the daylight hours. I recently reunited with a friend from high school and he looked up schizophrenia online, which was nice of him, but like I had in the beginning, there was a panic. He asked intently, "what are you going to do?". I said I don't know, but really, if I face it, I am doing it. I smoke, drink tea, read, write a little and that's about it. I am waiting for a storm to pass, but it's not going anywhere. I'm in a permanent summer rain.
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Many schizophrenics have a hard time "coming out". The stigma around the illness is such that employers, friends and even family members can be excluded from the circle of truth... I have only just recently started to announce my schizophrenia and so far it has been alright, just one friend fell by the wayside. That is, one of the ones I have left after my initial breakdown 16 years ago. Many schizophrenics are very lonely, not just because of people shying away, but because the illness itself causes the person to withdraw from society, whether paranoid or undifferentiated. I just recently wrote a letter to my former father-in-law about having schizophrenia, hoping it will melt some of the frost. Not that I'll ever really know. Maybe he won't even read the letter. Both of my in-laws were pretty put out with me over the divorce and I was not in the right frame of mind to explain until recently. I don't know what I'm expecting, I will get no reply, it just makes me feel a little easier having lodged my point of view. I suffer from crushing loneliness. I was very close to my ex-husband when I fell ill. I was not diagnosed then, but I knew something was seriously and irreparably wrong... It was a terrible time and the memories of my marriage coming apart really stings. Now, after 16 years I cannot imagine having a partner again, my medication doesn't allow for it. I'm sedated and for that, heavy-lidded, and I just can't imagine being in love with another person. I guess I am still in love with my husband, but he is remarried now with two lovely daughters. I think I did the right thing, asking for a divorce, but it was gut wrenching. I was so in love and so terrified of my mental breakdown. I hope something good comes of my letter. It was a long time coming. It's a pity it didn't get there before his mother died, I think she would have understood. It's all a mess and I can find little to go on myself, though I am happy for my ex-husband. I really am. I know he loves his wife and children and is happy generally. It's devastating what schizophrenia does to a life, though with it I am not alone. I visit a chat page for schizophrenia and there, every evening, are new friends with similar problems and answers. Schizophrenics are very astute about medications, which I appreciate. I find, since opening up about schizophrenia, that I feel less depressed. I think it was the right thing to do. I don't have a job situation, so it's just friends and family that I am talking to. For me, coming clean about schizophrenia was about accepting myself and my situation as it is and is likely to become. It was a way of taking control of the situation and emptying the chambers. I hope that schizophrenia will be less all encompassing as I move on in life. I can hardly imagine it not dominating my day. But maybe someday... Maybe.
Well, the heat of summer is bearing down and I haven't kept up my exercise routine... My idea was to walk twice a day for 30 minutes, but two days ago it was 98 degrees outside and my will disappeared. My dad just moved to a new apartment complex with a gym and a pool and he said management gave their permission for me to work out there. This I will do as soon as it is set up. Both my md and my psychiatrist have recommended exercise and though I lost ten pounds last year in the autumn, I have gained it back over the winter. I really need to lose about 50 pounds, maybe more, but I'm struggling with a heavy sleep schedule due to my Haldol. I don't eat too much, I just don't exercise enough. Last year I lost the weight by drastically cutting my caloric intake but I just don't have the willpower to keep that up. I was tired of feeling hungry and tired... In my youth, in London, I was exercising like crazy and in California I lost weight by eating salads and sushi. But I'm on a poor man's budget now in North Carolina and I just can't seem to find a groove... I turn 50 in August and am feeling the age a bit, aches and pains, but I think this is largely due to my lack of exercise. It's so easy to just sit at the computer all day or pick up a book in the air conditioning. I would like to lose the weight, but I need to find a workout that will take me into the next ten years with little resistance. I need a lifestyle makeover, is what I really need. I need to work out a diet and exercise plan that fits into my day and replaces my sleeping and smoking routine. I can barely remember what it was like to feel fit and happy with myself. Since I spend so much time alone, I have let little self care rituals fall by the wayside. So before I melt into August and my birthday, I have to make some effort to change my life for my health. Most schizophrenics know what I'm talking about, weight gain due to medication, lack of motivation, lack of self care... And, as my mom says, "It ain't easy getting old and peculiar". Yes, getting older is not for the faint of heart.
My copy of Vincent Van Gogh's letters just arrived in the mail today... I am very happy about it. I had ordered seven books, four of which were Buddhist texts and arrived first, so I am looking forward to a change of pace... The Buddhist readings help me understand my mind, but I'm not a Buddhist and the reading can be quite intensive. I'm grateful for the help, but my new book is a welcome change. I never wrote really great letters... As a child in Italy, I first started writing letters to family and friends and then again in London, as a new bride. I absolutely loved the letters of my mother-in-law... My husband and I would fight over them. They always started, "Darlings!" and went on to describe various adventures in the garden and about town, written in a most entertaining conversational style... For a few years, after my illness had set in, I try to write letters in her style, with some success. These were letters to her, which I never sent. I just wanted to be that breezy cheerful letter writer, for once in my life and I pretty much achieved it. Now, I don't think I can do it, my Haldol keeps me on an even, somber keel, and I'm no longer busy around the house or town, so no stories to tell. Plus, no one ever writes back! This is a shame. Old-fashioned letters are a thrill and a welcome change to bills and advertisements. I miss my mother-in-law. She died four years ago, before I could explain about my schizophrenia. I'm sorry about it. I absolutely loved her. She was a great inspiration to me. She was a marvelous cook. We used to have whole salmon poached in white wine, with homemaid mayonnaise and store-bought for those who prefer it, roast venison and wonderful desserts, from gooseberry fool to an absolutely balletic pavlova for my birthday, with raspberries and cream. She was lovely in every way, a real breath of fresh air and my ex-husband has her looks and qualities. I loved her very much and I copied her way of going about things as nearly as I could for a long time. I'm sure every time I approach the kitchen, she kicks in and takes over.
One of the things I love to do most in life is read a good book. In London I had a veritable library in our tiny apartment. When we moved to Los Angeles, the books came with us, and were most of what we moved, those and kitchen items... After my breakdown, and subsequent move back home, the books weighed heavily on my mind and were burdensome to me. I was disturbed by them and I threw them all out... I am sad now, I had some really enjoyable reads in that collection. I could have at least donated them to the library, or maybe a secondhand book seller... I miss them. Recently I have ordered some books online from Amazon, some of them books I had before, but almost all different editions. Still, I'm glad to find them. Right now I am still reading Out of Africa, for the third time in my life and am nearly finished. I have to choose from for my next book The Wisdom of No Escape, How to Practice, The Major Writings of Nichiren Daishonin, The Letters of Vincent Van Gogh and The Years in Dijon. I am looking forward to this reading, even though with schizophrenia I find reading much more difficult. I used to devour the page, now I tiptoe along, as though barefoot on a stony path. It is hard to concentrate for any length of time, so I'm having to take it in sets. But at least I am reading again. Soon maybe I will be able to listen to music again, I hope so. For out with my library went 500 cds, a nice collection of music I had amassed in London. Well, I am lighter in my possessions, but still hungry of mind. That at least is better than I have been in the past few years, full of sleep and drugged of mind. I have made negotiations with the effects of my medications. I will tolerate, if it will bend and allow. So far so good...
One of the things about schizophrenia for me is that, although it ruined my life as I had been living it, it has allowed me to come home and spend time with my parents. I missed them when I was living in London for 10 years and coming home has been pleasant. Both of my parents have been very supportive, particularly my Dad. When I was without medication for several years, he would just pick me up from wherever I had wandered and take me home. If I broke dishes and windows from my frustration with the voices, he said nothing, just repaired what could be repaired and went on. I really appreciate this. My mom, who I speak with by telephone every day, was keen that I should get on medication and I was tired of trying meds with heavy, unlivable side effects, so often I would hang up on her. She just waited patiently until the time, five years ago, that I just couldn't take it anymore. It was my tenth stay in hospital, and the doctor there was the first one to tell me to my face I have schizophrenia and that medication would be necessary for the rest of my life. I have made some progress in these five years. I am no longer fearful of being away from home and I have had some respite from the hallucinations and voices, though I still experience them every week. They are no longer as mean as they were and are sometimes even nice and reassuring. Though I had to give up my beloved marriage, I have come home. Now, as long as I have a cup of tea and my computer, I can make it. Hopefully, in the future I will be able to achieve more. More what, I don't know, but maybe something.
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