When I first became ill with schizophrenia, I was living in Los Angeles with my British husband, the love of my life, and was very happy. After 8 years in London, we decided to take our chances in Los Angeles. We were filmmakers, and were just starting to take off in commercials and music videos. We were also interested in having children. I went downhill very suddenly and very sharply and decided I had to let go of my marriage and come home. At first, I lived with my Mom in Georgia. It was good. I got a great job at a photography studio as an assistant and was taking classes in Atlanta. Then, two days after 9/ll I had my third trip to the hospital. I quit my job and was disoriented and a little depressed. Six months later I moved to North Carolina, to be with my Dad and my brother. I could have my old room back and it seemed more was possible. Three more attempts at school and three jobs later, I bottomed out. Each of my efforts ended with trips to the hospital. I hated being here. I missed city life, I missed my career, and most of all I missed my wonderful husband. I hated this town when I grew up in it. We called it Fayettenam, a military town. There is not much going on in this town. It's all restaurants and fast food places, with plenty of movie theatres to keep the soldiers entertained. Car dealerships, and that is about it. If you want to drive a Mercedes to McDonald's, this is the town for you. Well, 12 years later, I am finally coming to realize that I am home. I love the house situation, I can do anything I want here in this house, within reason, my brother and I rarely cross paths. My 20 year-old car takes me to the places I need to go to, Citgo for a very large soda and lottery ticket, Walmart for my prescriptions. I have my Dad 10 minutes away for dinner at his with his wife. I no longer have wanderlust, but I do have the memories of world travel with my husband. I realize now that I am where I am going to be until I die, save a one-way trip to the retirement home. I am nervous about it, there is no future here, only today and each day as it comes. Nothing special will happen, there will be no dinner parties or trips to the beach, just day-in, day-out Fayetteville. It has to work, it's all there is. My grandparents lived this way, so can I... I am home.
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I'm listening to a cd from Chara, Japanese artiste, and it's just bringing so many memories flooding back. I used to have it on minidisc and I played it on the portable minidisc player recorder that my dear Justin bought for me. The music is from the year after we first separated and I just feel it so much. I listened to it like crazy. We were directing one of her music videos. I remember Justin had broken his leg in a parachuting accident, and was all over Tokyo on crutches organizing the locations for the video. I loved him so much, but I was sick with schizophrenia and didn't know it. I just knew I felt a million miles away from him and it was making me both sad and happy at the same time. I was sad because it was the end of our marriage and happy because I wouldn't be burdening Justin with my malady. God, I really love him. I miss him so much. A few years later, my minidisc was stolen from my apartment in Atlanta, along with all my cameras and software. I was devastated. So I just found a copy of this album on Amazon and I'm playing it now. It's just so full of memories. I bought it to have something to work out to this fall on my campaign to get back in shape. After my first trip to the hospital and after I was taken to live with my mother, leaving Los Angeles, I listened to this album while working out. I was in great shape and on a high from the video and the hope I had of rebuilding some kind of life on my own. I really thought I could do it. But, four attempts at going back to school and three jobs later, all ending in hospital stays, I gave up. It is funny how listening to this album lifts my spirits. It's lovely. I highly recommend it. It is called Strange Fruits. It just illustrates the crash and burn of pure love and happiness. I just love it. I am really missing my husband a lot these days. We didn't remain friendly. I think he just needed to move on and have it end, period. It was just so terrible and huge for me. I was terrified of being on my own, but also hopeful. Now I am on my own 15 years later and I can just taste it all listening to this album. I am just caught in a net. I can't move on, I can't love someone else, I just think of him and smile. I can't cry on the meds I'm on and I can't help but feel that a good cry would help me move on. It's all so permanently over. And I still have trouble believing it. I keep wanting a second chance, a shot a redemption, but there is not going to be one. It is just in my face, over.
I am a lottery ticket buyer. Just one ticket per draw. I figure if I can be unlucky enough to have schizophrenia, I might be lucky at the lottery. My brother has schizophrenia too, so that should count for something. I want the money so that we will not have to worry so much after my beloved parents are gone. A lot of the money will have to go to charity too, because I just can't get my head around that much millions. I want to leave an inheritance to my brother's daughter and her family too. So, I hope I win. So far, nothing much. I had one time four out of six numbers matching. This meant I won seven dollars, but I didn't collect. My mom buys lottery tickets too. We talk about villas in Italy, all of that. I haven't the heart to spoil it all for her by telling her I just am not into travel with schizophrenia. We used to live in Naples, Italy, and it was a golden time for our family (my parents have since divorced). I am glad I travelled so much in my twenties and thirties. I lived and worked in London for ten years and that was lovely. I miss it. It wasn't just London, it was being young and in love in London. The world seemed to open up for me there in all it's wonder. Now, where I am, I have a good living situation. My father gave the family house to my brother and me to share. It works well. I never see my brother very much, he keeps to himself in his room. This I wish would change. I like my brother and I wish we could be more friendly. But my brother, who also has schizophrenia, has refused his meds. This is his choice, but it makes things rather uncomfortable sometimes. Still, I know how it is. When I was off my medication I was a terror and he's not that bad. He manages his illness very well. I admire his ability to stay fairly in control when it's hard. He is delusional, that's about the worst of it. He is a bit moody too. But lately he has been in good spirits and that's really nice. When I first arrived here, we made a single together in his music studio. It was really fun and the music he made was lovely. But he has become increasingly reclusive over the years so no more of that, unfortunately. Still, it's nice to have him. I'm glad of it. My parents depend on me to keep the house in order and both have spoken to me about taking care of him after they are gone. He has been declared incompetent by his doctors and the court, so he has to have a guardian. This I won't handle. After Dad is gone, (Dad is his legal guardian) I will have the court appoint a guardian for him. There is only so much I can handle by myself. I am nervous about it. The house is willed to me and it will be all I can do to keep it going on our small disability allowances. So, I hope I win the lottery. That way, if the car breaks down or the refrigerator stops working, I can handle it. We are at home now, the both of us, and this is it.
Well, I have started working out three weeks before schedule. Also cutting down calories. I recently gained four pounds and am miserable. I gained 15 pounds this year all total... I have so much weight to lose. I am going to take it slow this time, just try and work on it one step at a time. But it's nice to get started. We have had a bit of cooler weather lately so that I don't get so hot and sweaty in the car on my way to the gym. It feels nice working out, but I have only been twice so far. I am not in good shape. I used to just hop on the elliptical or the treadmill and run for an hour. Now I can't. It's both weight and age. It is cruel that the antipsychotics we schizophrenics take cause weight gain, as if we didn't feel unattractive already. But still, that's what it is. I haven't had my summer trip to my mother's house this year. She was unable to make the trip to get me and my car is too old to make the trip. This trip usually causes me a lot of anxiety. So does just going ten minutes to my Dad's for dinner. But I miss it all the same. My mother and I talk on the phone every day, but it's not the same as a visit. I usually have a good time there, but episodes happen, same as they do every week here. I like being at home when the episodes happen because I can just go to bed and that usually helps. The voices bother me until I fall asleep and are gone the next day. My voices are lately conversations with my ex-husband that start out nice and end up mean. I try to resist the impulse to engage with them. I am usually so glad to see his face that I participate anyway and end up sorry about it, resolving never to engage again. This usually makes me feel better, more in charge of my life, but inevitably, the temptation arises again when I see his lovely face. I really miss him. I have been lonely and life has been lackluster since the day we separated. I knew it would be hard and time has not made it any easier. It would have helped if I had not been so derailed when we split. I should have been able to tell him my diagnosis, but I did not know my diagnosis. It would have taken away the feeling of blame he has, I think. He feels I blamed him for the divorce. I really didn't. I loved him dearly, I just was completely lost in a fog of voices and hallucinations. I was unable to explain. I just couldn't drag him into all that. We were very close and loved each other very much. I am glad to ascertain that he is that kind of in love with his new wife and that they have the children I so wanted for us. He is a wonderful father, I am sure. With him, all things seemed possible and life was very happy. He is a special person. I have never met anyone I like better. I still can't believe we had to separate, but now that things are the way they are, I have to accept it as the new happiness. He deserves it. I just sometimes sink a little low. I feel I deserve happiness too. I am well taken care of, for that I am grateful. But I don't have the joie de vivre I had with him, where the smallest things are simply marvelous. I miss his smile. I just really try hard to go on. Aside from doctor's appointments, the only thing I do every week is go food shopping. This was one of my favorite things we did together. Now I just pick up my boring food and go home and cook it by myself. I sometimes can't believe that this is all there is. But there you have it. It is all there is and I keep trying to make some adventure out of it for myself. Even getting in shape. We used to exercise together. He was so cute in yoga class, all elbows and knees. Now I'm just doing it for me. It's not the same. I know I talk a lot in this blog about my marriage. I was just so exquisitely happy with him. I keep waiting in vain for a new chapter to begin. The magic is gone. It really is gone. I don't want another relationship. I figure the same reasons for not having a marriage apply now and to anyone I might meet. Schizophrenia is just not for the delicate. I am planning to have champagne with my Dad and his wife on my 50th birthday. Even that is not full of joy. It is not normal for my family to celebrate this way. Justin and his family celebrated birthdays and holidays this way. So it seems a little forced. But I want to do it. I want to try and celebrate.
I am gearing up for two main efforts next month. Starting a new diet and exercise regime and quitting smoking. I don't know how it will go, but long ago I set the limit for my smoking at age 50. (I may not have much of a life, but there is no sense in damaging what time I have left.) I have smoked since my marriage ended. I was alone and nervous and smoking made me feel like I was just waiting. Well, 16 years later, I'm still waiting and for the most part, it hasn't happened. I have come through a lot. I have improved some and for this I am truly grateful. But the next chapter of my life, the one I was waiting for after divorce, is mostly barren. I have attempted to go back to school four times, held three jobs and spent a lot of time in and out of hospital. There were also a couple of arrests, which I am shy to talk about. I was off my medication when they happened and very upset. I don't drink or do drugs, it was nothing like that, it was just being away from home and disoriented. It is all bad though. The attempts at school were fun and I was doing well, but ended up in hospital each time. Same with the jobs. One of them I really loved, being a photographer's assistant. I was doing very well with it and my photography was well received. But for some reason the week after 9/11 I ended up in hospital and I quit the job. The photographer called me a year later and asked me to run the studio, but I had left the state and was not doing well. I hated to turn it down and I miss working there all the time. But, schizophrenia rules. And a cruel master it is. It has taken away my will and my power. I used to shape my life, now schizophrenia shapes me. I work hard at not letting it ruin everything - I dismantle my delusions, for example. But it still dictates my delicate future. When I worked I never really mastered a big salary, but I was able to make ends meet. My husband was very successful. I was successful too, but I just didn't command the paychecks he was able to get. We had a good life together and were very much in love. On my own, I am back to my own resources, which at my age, are thin and limited. I am not the young free and single. The world is no longer my oyster. Or is it? I have my disability, I live in a comfortable house with my schizophrenic brother, in other words, by the grace of God I'm not on the streets. If I keep my wits about me I should be fine. I can't keep comparing the present with the past. I am pretty devastated that I didn't get to spend the last 16 years raising children and working with my husband, but I can't let that desperation color my future. I am a schizophrenic and I have done my best. It is time my expectations matched my abilities and not the past glories of the young and in love.
I am trying very hard to stop thinking so much of my ex-husband. It's not easy, I have been thinking of him for 27 years. I still love him dearly, but I think that my constant reference to him is getting in the way of my happiness. He has moved on, he's married with two lovely children. I haven't even dated since we separated. Of course, most of my time has been spent fighting schizophrenia. I was hospitalized 10 times and have only been on my medicine for 5 years. It has been grueling, as my therapist in California said, and I am really ready for change. I would like something nice to happen. I don't know what. I'm not looking for a relationship, but I would like something nice to happen. All I can think of for that is maybe winning the lottery. I don't need a nice job or promotion, since I am on disability and can't work. I just can't think of that many nice things I would like to have happen. I worry about that a little. I am at the very basics of living, clothes threadbare, money tight... I just don't have the full life I used to have before I was sick. I still haven't quite adjusted to it. I still think of having friends, dinner parties, holidays and all the happy things that go along with being young and in love. Now I think of doctor's appointments, my weight (too much), the health of my aging parents. These things were always going to happen, but I had expected to have other things to look forward to along with that. It's grim, as my ex-husband would say. I have adjusted as well as I can to being alone. I no longer wish for a relationship - the only one I can think of is the one I had, which was perfect for me. I am very alone, no friends in real life, just those online or on the phone. I think of my future and it's daunting, old age, failing health. I just want some way to take it all in stride. I want to age gracefully and to be happy for my time here. Part of the problem is that I don't know what my goal is - I keep thinking of how happy I was before schizophrenia and after 16 years of illness, I know I can't expect that level of success. I guess the only thing to focus on is my health. I am in pretty good health right now, but I need to lose weight and to get back in shape physically. I mean get fit, not just lose weight. I guess that would make me happier than I am now. I would like to care for myself more. That would help a lot with my self esteem. It is a symptom of schizophrenia - poor self care. It's really hard for me. I used to be really physically fit and though I say it myself quite pretty. Now I am at best slovenly. I don't care anymore. This is a problem. I spend a lot of time wishing for the past. I entertain myself with memories that are so happy I just sit and stare. I do this a lot. I spend a lot of time googling every day on the computer. To be fair, I do this so that I won't be caught off guard, I know that I am well out of my former 'scene' but I hate it when something great happens that I didn't know about. I am a bit of a shambles. I don't even look forward to things anymore. I was always in anticipation of some great invitation or event before, now I just exist, every day, all day long. It's peaceful, but not happy. It's very Buddhist, I have stripped down to the bare essentials all that was my life and I no longer desire. I just don't know what to do with it. It's so different from being in love and being really happy. I can cope without my former belongings and for the most part I don't miss them. But the emptiness is sometimes over-whelming. All my ideas belong to the past. It's like I retired at age 34, with no hope of a future. I am now nearly 50 and am only just now starting to see my way through the medicated fog I live in. I have a little bit of anger, too. I am angry that my love and my happiness was taken away from me by this cruel illness. I am frustrated. I keep thinking I should be doing something, but I don't know what it is. And through all of this, I miss my love, my dear ex-husband, whose smile was infectious and whose gentle humor kept me going and growing. I am alone.
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