Brandt Lane Garden. Ever since I started playing with this camera project, time has seemed to have sped up and the summer is nearly over. I don't know what happened to June. Our family has all our birthdays in the spring and summer - May, July and August - so it's always a bit celebratory, at least in my mind and on my calendar. I just mailed a birthday card to my mom. She came up to visit last year on my 50th birthday, which was nice. This year I'm already having air champagne for my 51st. My dad and my brother don't really celebrate much at all. My brother disapproves of alcohol and my dad, who doesn't mind a drop in the evening, just kind of takes everything in stride. I could get a bottle of Freixenet, but we are all on so many prescribed medications I just kind of hate to waste it. Maybe I will though, might be nice to raise a glass. I never drink. I am just used to Diet Dr Pepper and iced tea every day. I don't like the feeling of being drunk at all. I don't even like a buzz. But I remember celebrating high days and holidays with a glass of champagne in London, when I was married. For some reason, the urge to celebrate in this way has lingered on. My medications are very sobering anyway, and I find I am less prone to whim and fancy. I am more considered in my activities and I'm not a bundle of energy any more. Still, my exercises at the gym have me feeling more flexible - also after reducing the Haldol, which makes one stiff - and I'm happy every day because of the two anti-depressants. The bad news is, my psychiatrist, who is from New York City, is moving back there at the end of September. I will miss her. She is the best doctor I have had in 17 years of illness. It will be a loss, but I am happy that she will be going to her home there. I can't imagine taking on New York at this time in my life (she is a bit older than I am I think). I am just not devil-may-care anymore about anything. Everything takes thought and planning. I don't have the money to go to New York either. But my mom has invited me to her house for a couple of weeks whenever I can make it, so I am looking into a train. There's not a direct one, that I know. I thought a train might be relaxing and a good chance to take photographs, and I wanted to get some photographs of my mom too - and dad. So maybe in September.
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Brandt Lane Garden. I have had a note from the publisher to reduce my image file size. I am just going through the Photoshop book, which I received yesterday. Please, bear with me while I figure out how to upload a reasonable sized file. (This image is posting smaller than i intended. I like the size I have already established in the other posts.) As my mother-in-law used to say, "it's all part of life's rich pattern"... I have been thinking a bit about her this summer as I look back over the years. My Latuda is responsible for these reflective sessions. I am feeling remarkably happy and expansive and it is a real contrast for me from my years of Haldol and the wilderness of years before that. I still had an episode yesterday, but when that is not happening I am really much improved in attitude and motivation. I am getting a lot done this month with the arrival of all of my photographic equipment and software. I have learned a lot and every day I am plunging in for more exposure to the nuances of my equipment. It's all secondhand and obsolete already, but if I am careful, I should get a good few years of joy out of it, God and Apple willing. I am actually just a tad overwhelmed by it all. I miss knowing what I am doing automatically. It will take about a month to get through the book, after which I hope I will be proficient. This blog is my only project, actually, so once I get the image size right I should be ok. I write in a journal, too, and that is where I do most of my observation. I can see, by reading it, where I am getting bogged down and where I am "going with the flow", flow being the goal. The onset of my schizophrenia, 17 years ago this October, was so intense that I just walked out of my whole life and moved to my mom's house, never to go back again. I left it all - husband, work, home. You would think I would be perhaps more well adjusted by now, but it is all still traumatic to me. The years 1998 to 2009 were punctuated with 11 stays in hospital, and four attempts at school and three attempts at work. I was mostly unmedicated during that time, because no one talked to me about my diagnosis or follow-up care. Since December 2009, I have been on Haldol, which I am reducing while I switch to Latuda. I finally gave up and applied for Disability, for the second time, in 2012, receiving it in 2013. I just keep reviewing the history, hoping to sharpen my perspective. I was a very ambitious, goal-oriented person and having to walk away from my happy life and just struggle has been perfectly horrible. Even though I am doing well now, none of it compares to having a lovely partnership in life with someone you love. I spend each day alone, month after month, and I just keep reminding myself to "take it slow", so that my pace, which is slow, doesn't upset me so much. I bought some strawberries for the neighbor across the street and she hasn't picked them up, I guess she's not home yet - I rang the doorbell and left a note. I am just trying to loosen up and be inviting. I would love to have someone to have a cup of tea with, that sort of thing. All my neighbors are friendly, we always wave and say hi, but I don't have a friend. I have online friends, but I want real visits with living people too. I was hoping that NAMI would set up shop again in my town, but instead it was dismantled. There, I could have met other mentally ill people who are also looking for friends. There is a difference, too, in the quality of the friendships with people who are or are not mentally ill. I find I have to kind of prep for meetings with the healthy public, and I am more immediate with the mentally ill friends, all of whom are online. We don't pressure each other by asking stuff like, "what have you been up to?" We do ask, "how are you today?" because it's ok to just say, for the millionth time, "not so great, actually." We go into it from there. In the healthy world, there is not so much time for such a talk, which is why it is so daunting to face normal people. I have to work hard to get ready for questions like what I do? or what is going on generally?, because most normal people don't understand how intimidating that can be for someone with schizophrenia. A lot is going on for me this month, with my new equipment, but it doesn't mean I'm going back to work, it's just generally for healing and healthy living. It's the first and probably last good news I'll have for many years. But it has me doing things, and this could lead to meeting people who might become friends. And with friends, you can go anywhere the imagination leads. (That's the old me talking.) Here's to your health!
Black Eyed Susans, Brandt Lane Garden. Just got back from having a scooby snack at McDonalds. My waking and sleep schedule is a bit off, and the fridge, while not empty, failed to inspire. I am really enjoying my life this summer. I got a call from my ex-husband, lost 20 pounds (and started exercising and dieting a bit), and I put together my camera and printer system one component at a time, with rewarded research. And it works! I am just waiting for the book I ordered on Photoshop CS6. I know photoshop quite well, but that was Photoshop 4. They have changed the interface a bit since then and took away some of the features I was familiar with, so I thought some instruction would do. The last time I learned Photoshop I had my marriage intact, and my adored hubs read the exercises aloud to me, which was a great help. This time round, however, I am on my own. It's not so bad. I accept that I did the right thing in letting go. Schizophrenia is just too hard to get to grips with, and to have responsibilities to someone else, not to mention a career and all that is just asking too much. Plus, my care in Los Angeles was sketchy. Nobody ever had a talk with me about what my diagnosis was, so I didn't know. I just kept on waiting for the symptoms to pass and they didn't. It was the beginning of a decade of failure and heartache. The one bright spot was the time I spent as a photographer and photographer's assistant in Georgia. I was fresh out of the hospital, and as long as the medication lasted, I was able to work. I did good work there. I was still stunned by the end of my marriage and career, and I just gave that job my best. All my experience in film and photography came to bear. I even used 3200 speed film in a pinch at a wedding when the bride and groom requested a portrait in the library, which was not well lit. It was my first wedding, my first time using Hasselblads and my first time using the ultra high speed film. I charged $65 total, which covered the cost of all the film. I developed it myself at the photography studio, with some help from the photographer and his other assistant. I was really happy with the results. I also did some nice photographs in black and white of the debutantes of 2001. It was the perfect place for me. I loved everything about that job. I worked with no excuses, just giving my absolute best every day. I wanted to keep that job, and was actually asked to come back for a promotion after I had left, but I had been in the hospital again and had moved up here to my dad's place, and was not generally doing well. I turned it down. I was not really welcome to move back to my mom's house anyway, which is where I lived when I worked there. I haven't had such a lovely position since then. I have, in the past, applied for photography jobs up here, but no luck. There is a ton of competition and the situations are just not as nice as the one I left behind. I don't have the circle of contacts here, that I had in Georgia. In fact, I really don't have anyone. I had lunch with a school friend about five years ago, and a visiting university friend from Canada about four years ago, and that is it, aside from the visits about three or four times a year from another school friend whose mom lives in our neighborhood. Those visits started in 2013, and are responsible for my improved self care. I now shower and change more often, and keep my lipstick handy, just in case. It's nice, but the part of me that wants to make something happen is still alive and kicking. I gave it a lot of thought though, and I really feel that I am just not going to be able to work again any time soon, and I'm 50. I did think of scaring up my reels and putting something up on vimeo, but really, I just don't feel that well. I am open to local projects, were there any. But it seems it's just not going to be a runner. I'm ok with that. I am just not up to the state of health and being where I was flying to Tokyo or Stockholm for work. I'm afraid that someone will steal my stuff with my meds in it, things like that. I like my little study with my desk and my little laptop and a cup of tea. It's not what it was, but it's all I can handle and I am quite happy with it.
Blackberries with sugar and cream. I love all the berries in the supermarket at this time of year, but I wait especially for the blackberries. This is my second batch this season. I am on a diet, but I decided to lighten up and have these for dessert today. So far I have lost 20 pounds. Every schizophrenic has weight gain problems from the medicine, and I am no exception. Latuda, my new medicine, is not supposed to have weight gain as a side effect, according to my psychiatrist, so I am taking advantage of that by going to the recreation center gym and watching the calories. It has been good so far, but I have a long way to go. On Haldol, I had much less energy, so those activities were rare and of a season. I'm glad to be making the switch. I do feel better than usual. I spend a lot of time in my journal writing about all the things I am grateful for. This keeps me from entering the abyss. I am grateful for my family, my home, my car, my computer and camera... Listing all my assets like this reminds me that I am not homeless, so far, and it encourages me to get into living. I am a creature of habit, I put my purse and keys in the same place so I can always find them, I keep my journal by the lamp, and I do things like eat, shower and exercise all at the same time each day, so I don't get anxious and lost. Walking the hallways the same way at the same time every day has a rhythm to it and keeps me in good time. Last week was kind of busy with appointments and computer problems, so this week I am taking my time. My trusty Toshiba contracted a virus - again - so I took it to be reloaded, for the last time. I am saving it for word processing and because it has an optical disk drive, which is now obsolete. I am just so used to using a cd rom and I didn't have the money for a new computer. I searched online and found a used MacBook with an optical disk drive for $299. I bought it. I have spent the last few days getting it up and running. No more trips to the Geek, if all goes well. It's from late 2009, OSX 10.6.8. I actually bought it because my camera and printer needed a common operating system from which to run, and OSX is it. I kind of got sold a white elephant with that camera deal, but, if I can just stay really careful, this system should last a few years. I found free virus protection, and I downloaded Googlechrome and so it is the rebirth of my keyboarding activities. I loved the Toshiba, it was a gift from my Dad after I, during an episode, dumped the whole OS of my really great Apple system in the trash, because of hearing voices. It was a stunning loss. I find it hard to talk about actually. That system was my whole day. It had a studio screen, media 100 for film. nikon coolscan, agfa flatbed scanner and a nice epson printer. I had premiere and photoshop... Well, I found a vintage, box-fresh copy of photoshop that will run on my used MacBook (creative cloud said my OSX 10.6.8 was no longer supported) and I found a vintage small new wacom tablet that will work with this os too, so I am excited. It's Christmas in July. It is not the same as my old system, not as lush, but it will work and at that I am happy. This system is the first step I have taken to get something going in my life. It's not for work, like my old Apple. It's just for staying sane. Outreach, that sort of thing. This is my first effort with a digital camera. Schizophrenia has also meant a lot of loss for me, my collection of 35mm and medium format cameras were stolen in Atlanta, they broke in through the ceiling. It was awful. I had just moved and getting insurance was still on the list. So I have been many years without a camera or computer at all. Glad to be back!
Lilies, Brandt Lane Garden... I took twelve photographs, starting with this one. I went to a privately owned public garden downtown, within walking distance of my therapist's office, and took some pictures there. I have been anxious to get some flower pictures this summer, and our own irises didn't bloom this year. I guess the bulbs are old and need to be replaced or something. I'll look into it. Anyway, I have pictures of lilies and black-eyed susans and so forth to show. It is a lovely little place to visit. There are not many people in my life to take pictures of - my brother won't have his picture taken - so flowers, for a season, it will be. It was a good day, in spite of the fact that I was having a misunderstanding with my mother. I woke up not too late, checked emails and Facebook, and then went back to bed for a nap. (My sleep schedule has been off lately.) Then, I woke up, had a sandwich, and set off for the garden, and my therapy appointment, with my camera. After therapy, I went to our local recreation center for my regular gym session. It is a nice, small, free, community gym. I badly need to get in shape after hibernating on Haldol for five years. I came home, downloaded my photographs, and called mom. Everything was ok there, crisis over. I'm very happy about that as we were on no-speaks for a couple of days. I had stayed up until 2am writing in my journal about it and that is why I'm slightly off schedule. I am glad I thought about it for a couple of days. I still think I'm right, but I didn't want to add to the trouble with a litany of complaint. I love my mother and over the years our relationship has mellowed. She giggles if I say the F-word. She is also the only person I speak to every day, so it was important to clear the air quickly. It's just a good idea. I look forward to days like this, when I can get out of the house and achieve a little bit. If I did this everyday, I would have an episode, though. So, as ever, now, it's small pleasures.
My favorite photograph of my ex-husband Ju, taken in the Grand Canyon. I carefully glued it back together after an episode. I wasn't angry with him, just frustrated at the lifelessness of my things in my room. I was writing in my journal last night about how living in Los Angeles was great for photography. The weather was usually nice, except for the monsoon in February, and I had friends and events going on. We could go to Death Valley or Joshua tree or Los Vegas. It was a lot of fun and we took advantage of it all. When I came back from Los Angeles to living here at my Dad's, I had enough photographs to fill a trunk. Over the years of episodes, I tore them down to just a couple of albums. I lost a lot of my things through these episodes - books, jewelry, photographs, clothes, paintings, cameras and more. It was all irreplaceable except for the books and music. I have bought enough books from Amazon to fill one shelf. All of it replacements, nothing new. I just don't have my finger on the pulse anymore. I also don't travel any more. I used to go to the beach in the off-season with my camera, but after a couple of hospitalisations there and a break-in on my car, I quit going. I also had taken long road trips to New York and Washington DC which ended in hospitalisations. I asked Ju for a divorce because I was psychotic and it didn't seem fair to try and stay married. I didn't know at the time it was schizophrenia, but I knew it was serious and likely permanent. One never expects the Spanish Inquisition.
My grandmother's chair. It happened again, publishing ate my post. I was remembering a bit about the nature of this blog when I started it just over a year ago. I wanted to just put a little out there about what my life was like with schizophrenia. I don't have any friends in real life, at least ones that I can visit with, so online is a bit of a lifeline for me. I may not know you personally, but I can give an idea about who I am and what I deal with for anyone who is interested, whether schizophrenic or a student or just passing by. Thank you, by the way. And welcome. I spent the morning working on the details of the rebate for my camera, which had been botched by the store. This meant being really busy and detail oriented and on top of things, which I am inclined to think is made possible in part by Latuda. But I am a little bit frantic and I find it hard to settle down and relax. My doctor said to expect maybe restlessness as a side effect. Although I am concerned about this side effect, I like to think that maybe with some concentrated effort I can adjust and bring it under control. I worked very hard with Haldol's ups and downs for several years. It looks like Latuda will take some work too. I just don't want to become a revved up machine on this drug. I liked the
I am much calmer today. Actually, this is my second attempt at this blog entry. The first was lost when I pressed publish. It's the same thing that happened last week. I have contacted Weebly about this problem before, more than once, but they don't seem to register my complaint. I wanted to just write my main point, which is, if there are any psychiatry students reading this, please take the time to talk with your patients about their diagnosis and treatment options. They have no other way of knowing. I was in and out of very expensive hospital stays 11 times in ten years. Not one doctor in the first ten stays said, you have schizophrenia and you will have to take this medicine for the rest of your life. And that it will be best to try different meds until the right fit is found. I was just sent home without any follow-up care at all. It wasted the entirety of my Forties and with each subsequent hospital stay, treatment was less effective. I am actually angry about these sins of omission, but I am just busy complying with my doctors, trying to find a way to survive this stupid illness with some dignity. Sometimes I am asked, why didn't you ask the doctor, and the answer is because I was insane damn it, I didn't have the presence of mind. I was a patient and that's all. When in the hospital, you only have about a maximum 5 minutes with each visit from the doctor and then the rest is just pills from the nurses. If the doctor doesn't initiate the conversation, it might never be known. Such was the case with me. I actually thought that if there was a diagnosis, surely they would say. So I just waited. I don't know if I could have done much differently myself. I finished the meds I was sent home with and that was that. I had no job, no insurance. I was just crashing and burning without so much as a word from the medical staff. It's not right. So please take the time to discuss the diagnosis and treatment options with your patients. At $10,000 a week it's the least you can do.
The Dogwood Tree. Hot, hot, hot! Tonight I waited until 6.30 to go get my medicines at Walmart. While there, I had a look in the flower bin. I want to take a picture of some pretty flowers, and this year, so far, our irises are scorched and, in any case, not blooming. But the flowers at Walmart are dry and squished together, not much to look at. I keep being glad I don't live in a drought area. I feel anchored to this house and I don't want to be disturbed by a natural disaster. Of course, this can be tornado country. I just spend all my time running through scenarios in case my brother and I have to move. I just can't imagine making it work here until the end of our lives, but that is the setup. It's a long time to be somewhere. I have already been here 13 years and it seems like way more. The house has been through a lot of repairs and replacements, much like my car. My little savings doesn't seem up to the job. But at least it's there. I know it can help. I am always glad I have my brother to share expenses with. Neither of us watches much tv, but I do go online every day all day. I just want to make it to the end of our lives with some dignity and security, meaning, the house. The only thing I can do is take it one day at a time. I just have had more than my share of bad luck in this lifetime - I expect disaster. I have been robbed in every house I have lived in, my car has been stolen four times, the schizophrenia, of course, and this house has had new heating and air conditioning twice since I have been here, after blowing up twice. Dad wants to put a metal roof on, which I quite like. He's doing that with us in mind. I know people usually just trust themselves to make it somehow, but I no longer have that kind of belief in myself. So I make backup plans and save up my resources. I have to get us through. It is a sobering thought and one that I focus on daily as a kind of touchstone. I am glad to have a home, but I don't feel at home here, not like the Fourth of July ladies I met. They had lived in their homes for at least 40 years, have lawn men, collections of porcelain figurines as an example, and they know each other well, their children grew up together. I just came here as a last resort. I am not ungrateful, I am just saying that I didn't move here with any other purpose than to have a place to live until I die, because of schizophrenia, which I have been only recently ok with talking about to people, strangers. I don't have a grasp on this town, though it has become familiar and loveable over the years. I keep feeling that somehow, due to unforeseen circumstances, we're going to end up homeless. This is my daily fear and it keeps me from having faith in myself and trust in the system. Of course, I have a lot of reason to trust. At each stage of my life I have been enormously lucky with lots of choices and opportunities. Maybe that is the thing - I just can't set all my hopes and dreams on this one place, because in the past I have always taken the road less travelled. I am scared that I am going to think myself out of my home by pursuing some dream. That's why I like to stay focused on the house. I also keep an eye on possible emergency work opportunities like working at McDonald's, which is close by and friendly. I also thought of putting my reel on the internet and contacting representation with that, I just don't have confidence any more. I have really landed on my butt with schizophrenia and I have landed in a town where I don't actually have family friends any more. All the people that knew my parents - and me, growing up - are now dead. I have no one to list as a reference on a job application. At my age I'm not competitive anyway, and I have a history with the law from when I wasn't on medication. I have just kind of crashed and burned in my life since schizophrenia. I find it hard to relax. Relaxing is just exactly what I need to do though, because it is the daily experience of pleasure that adds up to a feeling of success that counteracts panic and can solve problems with relatively little fuss. I think of my grandmothers, who calmly weathered the storms of life in their respective homes, with tv and food on the table. That's really all there is to it, I just have to trust, knowing that I don't have children and grandchildren to rely on when things get tough. I already don't fight the idea of a nursing home. In fact, I will probably welcome it like I did all my hospitalisations with schizophrenia. A place that is stable and comfortable and with lots of people to talk to. It's not so bad. But before then, I have to give life some more effort.
Kitchen window. The damage is from my throwing things while hearing voices... I am really loving the summer nights this year. I just feel so much better with my new medicine. I am not wishing my life away like I did on Haldol. This is my second attempt at writing this post. Something went wrong when I published it last night and most of it was lost. I am trying it again because I really wanted to say how nice it was last weekend to be with really nice, really sane and stable people. I am talking about the people I met at the fireworks party, all Army widows and also grandmothers. People who have really earned their retirement and have nice clothes, nice lawns, nice cars. It just really struck me how they were such strong, sane people. I felt a little ragged around the edges by comparison, except for the lipstick. It just made me wonder what kind of life my brother and I will have if we make it to our Eighties. Of course, my brother has been a grandfather since he was 40, but he was never a father or provider, his daughter was adopted out. He is also not usually very sane, as he refuses to take his medication. I have my episodes, but am able to generally function, at least I can go to a nice fireworks party. I want to establish myself here. My parents built this house in 1977 and we have been here ever since, except for about 8 years in the Eighties when it was rented out - my dad was stationed in Virginia for that time. But I want to become known to my neighbors, make friends with them. I think that honesty is the best policy here, we will be known as the two schizophrenics on Weatherford Road. I am talking about becoming friends with people who have no idea what it is to be a music video director. This is an Army neighborhood and we have going for us that we grew up Army too. These are well travelled people who do not want to talk about work, but who have children and grandchildren to show off. I don't have much of a story by comparison, so it will be better if I just make a pie for my neighbor, a retired school teacher who lives alone. I also want to start a Christmas caroling tradition, with hot cider and everything. We did this in Italy and it was great. It would be a nice way to get to know some people. I just want to register on the radar with these people. I speak to my neighbors when I see them, just say hi, and they know we are brother and sister and that my dad comes over every day to get the paper, check the mail and check on us. They know my mom too, when she visits. Some remember her for being a golfer around town. I also want to know more about them and watch out for them too. Most are older than us and I want to know when they are out of town or in the hospital... I want to be known, so that my brother and I will not just be the scruffy ones with the dodgy car and the untamed shrubs. We have a yard man, my dad pays him, but he is a bit of a hack, it has to be said. My neighbors all have proper lawn teams and sprinkler systems and new cars. I wonder if when we're eighty we will have nice clothes, proper lawn and a working car? It's a strong maybe on the lawn, we will have to do some minimum care, probably a no on the car and as for the clothes, it will be cheap but cheerful most likely. All my clothes are handed down to me by my mother, but somehow I don't wear them as well as she does. I think old people look fabulous in their clothes. They make an effort. This is what I want to do, make an effort. I embrace sane.
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