The Pier. I went to the beach yesterday with an old friend from high school. I had been looking forward to it for a couple of months. I overdressed. It was in the 70s, so i peeled off some layers and rolled up my sleeves. We had a really great day. It was so nice to have a view. Here in town, it's hard to see the sky for sunsets and sunrises because we have so many tall trees everywhere. I could see for such a long way at the beach, and we took the ferry home just at sunset, so we had a perfect, mid-river view of that. It was a great day. I used to come to the beach all the time on my own, when I was suffering with schizophrenia pretty hard. It wasn't really a good move, but it just felt so nice to get out of the house in that condition, to try and focus on a view. There were many times my Dad had to come and get me. I felt kind of foolish, but it was also kind of worth it. I lived at the beach for about six months. I had been accepted by the university there to study Marine Biology, which I was really looking forward to doing. I didn't even finish my first semester. Around Thanksgiving time, I ended up in the hospital for a couple of weeks. I was evicted from my cute little apartment because of the disturbance I had caused, which made me sad. I had some good photography back then, on film. There was a good reproduction house there in town, so I had some enlargements done, and had framed them. I had money back then because I was still on alimony. It was bittersweet being there, trying to start something new, being confused and alone for the first time in years. I'm glad I tried, even though I didn't make it. I have good memories of that effort.
I had an episode at the beach yesterday, but I managed to keep it in check until it eventually passed. Luckily with this friend I was with, silence is not awkward, as I was just quiet, trying not to alarm. It was my first visit with this friend when I wasn't on Haldol, and he said he could tell the difference. He said I smiled more. I was also generally more chatty throughout the day. So with my visit to my Mom's and the time spent with this friend yesterday, the Latuda is getting a good review. I do feel better. I have much less social anxiety, more motivation, and as a consequence, I can kind of sense a feeling of wanting to live. On the Haldol, I just lived moment by moment, and I really didn't mind thinking I would not live long anyway. That it would all eventually be over. But with Latuda, I actually find myself looking forward, and feeling a little sharp about the idea that it all may end one day, and hoping that I get the most out of each day. I'm more hopeful and happy generally. And, although the day was a bit of a challenge yesterday, it was kind of a milestone. I haven't spent the day with a friend like that in many many years. I remember in Los Angeles taking a day to visit Death Valley with friends, or going to the beach at Point Dume with my husband. but that was in the last century.
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My painting studio in the garage. I continue to count my blessings this Thanksgiving week. It has been an absolutely miraculous year for me. New and improved medicine, new camera and computer setup, new oil paint, new car, meeting my niece for the first time and her children... I am, for the first time in 17 years, happy to be me again. I still have episodes, but not as often, so I am thankful for that, but more gratifying is the calm, clear, basicially happy, upbeat person I can be on this medicine. And it's really nice about the other things I have mentioned. I have been without supplies like that for about ten years now, due to my episodes, which I have described in these posts before. The camera is my first digital one - I don't have a smart phone, I have a flip phone from Safelink, so I wasn't able to post pictures until my "ship came in". I am absolutely thrilled with my life as it unfolds. Now, I just have to keep up with my projects. I am even seeing a new friend in about ten days, a friend from high school and university who is bipolar. She lives about two hours away, but it's close for her to meet in our old university town, so we're going to do that for lunch and a walk across campus to the bookstore. It's about an hour and a half from where I live and I can do this now because of the car. She is still getting used to her diagnosis and she is mulling over her choices - her doctor has recommended Disability, but she's not sure. This I understand, it is a big adjustment to make. For me, it was the absolute last resort, after years of trying to go back to school or hold a job. This lunch date is also a kind of milestone for me because I was the one who invited her to meet up. She jumped on it. This was very very nice for me - I have been withdrawn and ill for so many many years. And on Saturday, this weekend, I am going to the beach for the day with another friend from high school, I think I have mentioned him before. His mom lives in my neighborhood, and we hike or bowl or go for coffee when he's in town. I just feel incredibly lucky. I am, in fact, very well taken care of for a schizophrenic. I know this from meeting other schizophrenics online, many of whom do not have a permanent home or understanding family - and that's just the ones I have met. I think of the ones who don't have a computer at all, or shelter of any kind and my heart goes out. I hope that as this medicine takes hold of me, that I can find ways to help more about schizophrenia. I have been chatting with schizophrenics online now for about five years and I have become a good listener. It's also easier for me to think with the written word, rather than being face to face because like many with this illness, eye contact is difficult and meeting in person often results in a lot of anxiety, which doesn't help. Hospitals are kind of friendly, the day room is a nice place to chat with other patients and although I never initiate it - I'm usually too psychotic - I have been able to have nice, honest conversations with strangers, which I usually never have when I'm out of hospital and at home all day. All of these people - my online friends and hospital friends - are part of this journey and have provided healing feelings and opportunities. Happy Thanksgiving to everyone. Stay safe.
Mom's late geraniums. I have settled down since the Isis attacks, but am quietly alert. I have friends who live in Paris and a friend in Brussels and they are staying strong. We are in touch. I am just really aware of how incredibly fortunate I am in the light of those kind of events. I have a comfortable home, a new car - the first new car in my life - I have my camera and my paints. I really cannot ask for more. I have my parents and my brother. I am not caught in some impossible crossfire, I don't have a religious crisis bearing down on me like the terrorists do. I am free to further heal and enjoy myself generally. I am seeing a friend this weekend for a day trip to the beach and I have a lunch date with a school friend at our old university in early December. This has been a really fantastic year for me, with the new meds and the improvements I have mentioned. Seeing friends and family, I cannot ask for more. I actually feel relaxed, all this in contrast to the situation in Syria and in contrast to the past 17 years of dealing with schizophrenia with imperfect meds generally. That whole struggle. I am so thankful.
I have been painting since my oil paints arrived last Wednesday. Because of meds I am less emotional (but upbeat). It's interesting to paint in that condition, because I am not responding freeform to the paint as I apply it, which is how I used to paint for years, instead, I have set up a simple composition that I can recreate easily, for the purpose of color study. I will have something to hang on the wall in the next couple of months, which is what I wanted, an easy success. Before, when I was painting, I was painting very large, like 5 feet by 7 feet and it would take like a year to finish a single painting. These are just little 8x10s (inches). I am having to adjust to the size. I have done three so far. It is very like starting completely over from the beginning. I have a lot of large brushes from before - the brushes being the only thing that survived my episodic purging of my possessions. I am thrilled to have my brushes. I love them. Oil painting is expensive and even more so if you have to buy new brushes. Some of these brushes I have had for 30 years or more. Many were gifts from my parents and from friends. I am fond of them and they bring back memories and possibilities. Each time I make one of these little paintings, I have ideas for many more, so it's a good exercise. It is just an exercise for me, not a real labor of love like my large paintings. But I am warming up generally after several years without supplies and I didn't want to throw myself in at the deep end. This is the first painting I have ever done with the simple objective of something to hang on the wall to look at. I went to see the Peanuts movie and I didn't have an episode, as is custom and consequence of such an activity normally. I am really happy. I didn't love the movie as much as I love the old television specials but it was fine and it was great not to be freaked out, like I was after Paddington Bear or oddly, The Intern. I have also discovered the music and images of Tycho, which I am enjoying. It reminds me of when I was a film director and every editor on any continent would play William Orbit in their suites. It is good music for thinking and working. I bought Tycho's first album, Dive, and look forward to playing it in the car. Like going to see a film, listening to music was usually putting me at risk of an episode, but Tycho is ok for me in that regard, no episode at all. I think this is the best year I have had since 1997, when I was working well and won the MTV award and buying a great computer for film and photography. It feels like winning to have my camera and to paint, even though my efforts are not as grand or "important" as they were when I was working. I am inspired by all the photography and video I see on the net by people who are just thinking and doing for themselves, not really professional. So much talent everywhere, just for the pleasure of it. And to drive a car without being nervous that it will break down any minute, I mean, I drove my old Jeep for 19 years, so it was kind of time to get a new one. Thanks Dad, big kiss. Passenger's seat. The Cave Spring Road. I feel a bit better about my Facebook Muslim friend, who finally, Sunday night, posted something about 'all Muslims are not terrorists'. I know they feel blamed by association, but they came to the West for freedom from persecution, safety, in other words, and like it nor not, now is the time for them to speak up with the rest of us. After all, everybody is taking a hit on this.
I painted a bit this morning. My second order of paint arrived today and it was time to get into it. I'm not sure about what I'm doing, other than they are just color studies, but it was nice to smell the paint again and to at least try. I will continue with these studies, which are just small abstracts, but I would like to start working from life too - I want to look at something and paint it. All my years in school, and after, I just painted from memory or intuition. Now, I want to look. I think if I do, the color will be more interesting. My teacher at university had us buy a bunch of cadmiums, and with these two orders of paint I have gone for older, classic colors. I like Vuillard, for example. My first experience with oil was when my Mom was taking an art class in Italy. I wanted to go too, so she signed me up for the following summer session and lent me her paints and brushes. We painted still lives. It was nice to make the effort to observe and translate to the canvas. I'm trying to kind of 'unlearn' all the stuff I did at university. I tried really hard there, and I won a merit scholarship my junior year, but I still always felt a bit lost and never found. So I'm attempting to go back to basics. Actually, I need more colors. That will be possible in the coming months. I just have to get through Christmas - and pay for what I have already ordered. It's worth noting that the past year - with new medicine and more self-expression - has shaped up my mind a bit. The events of the world right now demand unity and clarity and I am able to find the words sometimes for what I want to say, which is an improvement. I'm more vocal and engaged. Last week I had a friend request from a 'Tom Muller Patrick', who, in instant messaging, claimed to be a United States Army General in Iraq. In the course of the conversation, the language became more awkward, broken, and the person writing asked me if I was "down USA". I am an Army brat and I know the character of a general - my Mom and Dad were close personal friends with two of them. And they don't take a flyer on Facebook, nor do they talk about their work with civilians. I unfriended, then called the Military Police, who advised me to unfriend and ignore. I look around and I live in my Dad's house, and I drive the car my Dad bought for me, he, who was shot in and survived Vietnam. I realise now more than ever, even after 14 years of living in Europe, that I am an American. And I vote. This type of activity helps to keep me sane and nor does religion of any flavor, though I support religious freedom here and everywhere. Having said that, I don't want to be trolled by a Satanist or something. That would be disturbing to my peace of mind. I have met some Satanists online and Thelemites and they talk of the rule of love as the only law. Ok. But I don't want to see some statue of a horned beast in a throne talking to little children, as was splashed across the internet last year. I'm just like that, I guess. Can't please everyone. But I try. New Jeep Patriot, a gift from Dad. I know I am lucky to get a new car, but I drove the old one for 19 years and my Dad was tired of it going to the mechanics all the time. I love driving the new one, but I still have love for my old one. It was the one my husband and I bought when we moved back to the US from London. We didn't have any credit established here so my Mom co-signed the loan. Her name and my husband's name was on all the paperwork in the glove compartment. It was like opening a time capsule. I'm blessed.
I have been absorbed with all the news from Paris and the other attacks around the world, including one on a Christian school in Kenya, which I found out about from a Russian page I follow. It is just hard to comprehend the mind that would deny life and happiness to others, while killing one's self in the bargain. I really don't understand. And I find it hard to stay open minded sometimes, I am ashamed to say. I'm just like, "no hijab for me, thank you". I can't understand what the terrorists are trying to achieve. I don't believe they actually want to start a government or something. I think they just love death and destruction. I'm like, what about the beheading of the 9 year old girl? There is no rhyme or reason to what they are doing. I'm even a little unsettled by the conspicuous silence this weekend of a Muslim friend on my Facebook. Earlier in the year, he posted, "I am not Charlie". I just am like, so you'll live in the US, accept Disability, which he is doing, but not support freedom for all? He also made some disparaging remarks about gay guys. I'm trying to stay open, that's all I can say. I bought my Christmas cards last night. I send them every year, and have done for about 25 years, since I was first married and moved to London. I used to love my mother-in-law's Christmas card wreath, a wire circumference with clips on it to hold the cards. I usually don't receive any cards these past few years. Maybe one or two. But I send them anyway. It's a good excuse to open my Filofax from the Nineties, a beloved gift from my husband at the time. I get into it, I put on Christmas music and make a mug of something warm. I feel like I am the only person left in the world who does this still, but I can't help it. It's a nice way to let friends and family know I think about them, and that I am still alive. I missed a few years due to schizophrenia. I wish I was still receiving cards from my former in-laws. They always ordered cards benefiting a charity, and had their address printed in them. They bought their food according to the seasons, and it's about now that my mother-in-law would be making the Christmas pudding. They informed my marriage a lot. They were really fun to know. They provided a lot of stability for their children, which I admire. I wanted to take my shopping basket over my arm to the market too and did so, even in London. We had a shop on our street for milk and bread and newspapers. And on Oxford Street every year at Christmas they would have the chestnut sellers roasting chestnuts on an open fire. In the absence of family, having left my own family in the US to marry and live in London, all this was really exciting and helped me to feel like I was doing my part. To me, it's important to assimilate. I was always "American", but I found living over there so charming and different. I really got into it. I was a guest. I guess I take this mindset with me when I think of my aforementioned Muslim friend. I'm not asking him to change his religion, but he could do more to appreciate what it is to live in the West, rather than scaring everybody - or at least me. Departure Gate. I made it home safely. Although the planes were a little small and the rides a bit turbulent, it was wonderful to be back in flight on Monday, after 14 years. My 25-year-old suitcase held up. It has been with me through London, Los Angeles, Tokyo, all over the place. I'm glad I still use it. It was one of the first of the rolling carry-on bags, an American Tourister, which I think I bought for about $25 way back when. It was easy to spot, too. I didn't have a luggage tag with my name and address on it, but it was easy to pick out from the rest. It was wonderful to be back in the airports again. I love the people watching. It's all so interesting and it helped pass the time as I had a two-hour layover in Washington, DC.
It was kind of hard not to be with my now ex-husband. I used to travel all the time with him, because we worked together, as well as being married and therefore visiting in-laws in Britain and the US, as well as traveling for work. I was reminded during Monday's flights that I used to fly all the time and we would always have a glass of champagne on the flight, because my husband was a jumpy passenger and we wanted to celebrate to take his mind off of worrying. (When we separated, he went skydiving...) I always requested vegetarian food and would buy a bottle of perfume from the duty free. Everything was thrilling then, and I loved it all so much. This time I was alone and I was more quiet and a bit nervous generally. But it was fun. I love airplanes and airports. It's just so crazy that we can do that as a species. I noticed that everyone with laptops and smartphones and first class seats were a lot younger than me. They were the age I was when schizophrenia hit. I'm still getting used to that. It's weird. I'm the age now that I designed my pension for 30 years ago in London. It's here now. It's so hard to get used to. I just kind of hate the way schizophrenia ate up the last 17 years. It's not fair. I am trying to adjust and to make some plans for the rest of my life, but I'm a little gun-shy. I just have had to drop out of so many schools and jobs because of schizophrenia. I really tried to keep going, but I couldn't do it. I tell myself I am now retired, which I really am, generally. There is not a lot of opportunity in my town. It's a military town, everyone is just passing through on assignment and all the businesses cater to that. I don't have a network here where I can just slot into a fun little job and get on with life, like I did just after schizophrenia hit, when I left Los Angeles and everything I was doing there to go home and live with my Mom. I thought of loads of things I could do when I was visiting Mom. Aside from my photography job, which was probably my favorite job ever, I could work in a little boutique, or wait tables in a tiny hometown restaurant (I couldn't handle the demands of a bigger restaurant). I need the human touch. I am just not able to work like full time, for a living. But a couple of days a week in a friendly small business with an understanding boss is possible now that I'm on Latuda. That's if I don't decide to put up a web page and try and get some film business, which is low-key being freelance and not high traffic. I mean, it's demanding when you have a job, but for someone like me, I would only get a few jobs a year. I looked at film production companies in-state and in New York and Los Angeles. I just don't think I have what it takes to rev up for all of that. Still, since it's my only option, living where I live now, I am giving it a lot of thought and that's kind of fun to do. Thankfully, there's no pressure, which sends me to the hospital every time. Running Wild Ranch. It's my last night here at my Mom's. Tomorrow I fly home. It has been a good visit apart from my 3 day episode. The Latuda has definitely reduced my anxiety. I was able to do things like wash the dishes without hearing voices and to visit friends and family without feeling like I had to escape. I also didn't smoke that much except during the episode. I was able to just leave the pack in the carport and function indoors. All of this is an improvement.
I would like to see if I can continue this kind of behavior when I get home. Of course, I wonder what kind of shape the house will be in, having been left to my brother. He doesn't do well alone generally, it seems to increase his paranoia and he gets messier than usual. We'll see. I brought my computer and my camera with me. I don't think he would ever bother my stuff, but in the not so distant past he has tried to lock me out and has become violent toward my Mom. We had to have him committed. Hopefully he's doing alright this time. I still can't believe the two of us have schizophrenia and that we share the house. I hope with the passing years we will find peace. We don't interact that much, we argue a bit, mostly because my brother leaves his dishes in the sink. But I think now, if I just work around it, he'll do something about it himself without an argument. It has been nice to have this little vacation with Mom. I get really lonely at home, and aside from going out to lunch and seeing people here with Mom, her little dog has been my faithful companion. I just love to feel her little heart beat when I pick her up. She only weighs 3 pounds and is very fragile generally. It's just nice, I put her in the folds of my fleece when I am on the computer so she doesn't fall out of my lap, which she insists on. Everyone has been really nice, and I have felt more competent than in past visits, which made everything extra enjoyable. I seem to have improved since I last saw Mom in March, the end of the Haldol era. I am quite excited about it. I'm a bit nervous about the flight tomorrow, which is unusual for me. I have always loved airplanes, but times have changed since I last flew anywhere. I thought it might be nice to take a short trip to New York by train if I save my pennies for a while. I don't know what I would do there, maybe visit the museums. I have come to love the relative safety of my town. I think it's nice to at least consider a trip though. It's an improvement in my confidence and curiosity. I could possibly meet my friend Sophie there, she lives in London, but her brother has a flat there in the village. Or I could try and look up my friend Dennis from high school. He is one of those New Yorkers that would rather forget where he came from though, and is estranged at the moment. I don't know. I do feel a bit more alive with the possible return of my natural wanderlust though. Silver Comet Bakery. I got out a bit today with Mom, and in the afternoon, some sun came out from behind the dark clouds that have been around since Sunday. It was nice, but I am already feeling like the visit is ending too soon. It's just too bad I was sidelined with an episode for three days. Tomorrow, we are taking my Aunt out to lunch for her birthday and in the evening we'll have dinner and bingo at the club with Mom's friends. This is nice for me, getting out and seeing people and generally having to be more social than I am when I am at home and see no-one. I carved a pumpkin with my cousins on Saturday, which was pretty outgoing, for example. It turned out nice, I was hesitant, but they had a kit and the tools were cheap but really effective. Everyone was friendly, which made me relax, which I needed. For some reason I am really tangled up in my own head, making all this visit a challenge. But the people are nice, family, and it's just good. I always think it's special to see them. My whole life we have visited this town. My Mom and Dad grew up here, and both sets of grandparents lived here when they were alive (I miss them a lot). And one of my Aunts lives here with my uncle, and her chlldren, my grown-up cousins, often come home to visit, which they did this past weekend for Halloween.
I didn't think of my ex-husband today and I'm glad. I think well of him and everything, but not thinking of him is kind of good I think too, for a change of pace, a jolt into the present day. It's just all so shocking what happened to us - divorcing which also meant giving up our film partnership, me leaving the home to come back to my parents, the ensuing years during which I struggled to stay sane and lost the battle a lot. It would be hard for anyone to go through this, and I need to be reminded of that for perspective. I just had such high expectations for my life and it didn't go according to design. Many people have that to happen, or worse. I still struggle to get it right, I still want to put some shape to my life, but I'm a little burnt on making plans or having goals after all I have been through. I just keep thinking, 17 years. It' s such a long time to have so many setbacks. I was used to living somewhere fantastic, traveling internationally, success at work, and of course, I loved my husband and we had plans for children. I was very happy with my life and was working very hard. The ennui from having to take time off and all that, to get used to schizophrenia and drugs and low expectations has been really really hard to accept. Suddenly I am old, and it's just really upfront, in my face. Because of my medication, which has as one of its side effects stiff muscles, I struggle with yoga or even walking. I am too old to just sit down at a computer all day, but it's what I do right now. I spend a lot of time planning for possible health issues to do with aging - which has me thinking of prevention. When I am at home I walk at the recreation center every weekday afternoon, and this has been generally good for my attitude. In fact, staying here with Mom, with different food and activities is kind of hard to manage. I look forward to getting back to my routine at home, but with some good memories of this visit too, which has been special. Cave Spring Road. Halloween was hilarious. My cousins wore horrible costumes and jumped out of the shrubbery scaring trick or treaters. Their enthusiasm for doing this was impressive. It has been rainy and cloudy ever since then, so not much opportunity to get out and take photographs. I am just coming out of a three-day episode that kept me smoking and not eating or sleeping much. It was pretty horrible. Trying to just think through it. Mom knew, but I was hoping she didn't notice me talking to myself too much. I'm used to being alone. Here, there's Mom and her adorable little dog which needs a lot of attention. It was kind of hard to negotiate. Mom kept asking me if I wanted to go out to lunch, I declined. But feeling a little better today, voices seem to have subsided. But that and the weather have kind of dampened my spirits. I'm hoping I'll recover more this afternoon. It's like, I have had so many years wasted like this, and I don't want this visit kind of ruined. I had high hopes for some more fun. We're taking my Aunt to lunch on Thursday, her 81st birthday. Maybe tomorrow I will be able to start fresh.
During my episode I was trying to straighten out my mind about work, my ex-husband, how I am spending my time. It was pretty exhausting and I have to work hard, concentrate, keep talking. I keep hoping all this work will lead to a kind of pleasant plateau. I'll feel good, have some new ideas or at least a better perspective, that kind of thing. I am really wanting to break some new ground, put some distance between myself and the past by breaking the spirit of these voices which torment me. I'm tired, but ok. Maybe I'll go back home refreshed, that's what I was hoping for before I came here. I fly back Monday. (I don't understand how the ticket I printed out works. It doesn't look like a ticket. I guess I'll figure it out.) |
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