Brandt Lane, June 2016. I cannot believe it is already well into June. l have had voices all winter and spring, and have been thrown off my feeling for the passage of time. In some ways it feels life is long, in others, short, especially as I am turning 52 in three months, which is properly "in your Fifties". I visited Brandt Lane yesterday on my way to the therapist's, which is a tiny street downtown not far from my therapist's office. It's a private garden that is open to the public. I like to visit it. I found it by accident, just slowly sightseeing in that part of town, it's where old houses and great gardens are.
It's just five years ago that, at age 47, I began coming out of my zombie state while on Haldol. On my birthday that year, I had my first dental appointment in more than 15 years. I was proud of myself for making this appointment. It meant I cared again. Since then, I have been awarded Disability and so I see a dentist twice a year, an internist four times a year, a psychiatrist four times a year, and a therapist twice a month, if not more. I feel wonderful, getting such great care, I'm wildly thankful. I look forward to my appointments and I have improved generally, thanks also in part to my friend Mark, who lives out of town. His mother lives in my neighborhood and he comes to visit her and takes me out for coffee and icecream and whatever else there is to do, including indoor skydiving, bowling, the batting cage or miniature golf. It is because of him that I have been able to start showering and even brushing my hair and putting on lipstick. Before that, I hadn't seen anyone for about fifteen years other than family. My car had broken down and was in the shop, so I had to walk to the store for cigarettes. On the way back, I saw someone running with an enormous, beautiful, German Shepherd. It turned out to be Mark. We hadn't seen each other since graduation in 1982 - we went to high school together. So if we hadn't run into each other that day, I would probably still be in rags. My shirt sleeve was ripped at the elbow, I hadn't showered in weeks and I weighed a lot more then. One of the first things he said was that having a job would "probably help me". It is a normal thought, but I remember, because of that, he was the first person I told about my schizophrenia. He was very sweet and googled it. He's still encouraging me to go back to work, which is something I just have to brush off. I mean, it's thanks, but I have thought of that myself actually lol. This winter, up to today, I have only had about three weeks in total without voices and hallucinations. I couldn't even hold a phone conversation or a Facebook chat, and my sleep and eating schedule was off. If I had a job, I would have had to have like nearly six months off sick leave lol. I mean, I don't quite know what people think us schizophrenics do all day, but thinking about basic self care with a view to getting a job is pretty much what we do. So don't worry, we're on it. I mean, you know? My zen book I mentioned in previous posts has arrived and I have started reading it. It is quite conceptually difficult for me to get and I'm doing a bit of additional research as I go along. It's the concept of non-duality which I find difficult to accommodate, because of my schizophrenia. I have "demons" to reckon with and so I have trouble letting go of the idea that there is a force for good and a force for "evil". Before schizophrenia set in, I just dismissed all talk of the devil and felt as if I were blessed in life generally. Everything was going my way it seemed. In fact, I thought of my life as heaven on earth. But my first and subsequent psychoses were so incredibly scary and negative, that I tend to think there is that which is ... at least, negative, in the world too. The author is presenting the idea that everything you experience is your own mind, which I almost grasp sometimes for a few seconds. It's interesting to consider, especially with mental illness, and it's easier and more hopeful than thinking you are hounded by the devil, which is what I thought for many years. I'm hoping that by accepting my experience as my own mind, I will come to know it and it will calm down. It's a thought anyway. I mean schizophrenia is capricious and ridiculous and distracting and I have in mind trying to kind of parent my own mind, so that the rogue elements are tamed. We'll see. He says we are "swinging doors" that move when we inhale and exhale. I can only start with that. I want to share a poem that my friend, James Crary, wrote, reprinted by permission of the author. Poetry for me is often challenging, I am hypersensitive to stylistic word craft so it's not all poetry I enjoy. I'm a bit of a philistine like that... Hope you like it too. Incandescence For Mandy There is so much of nothing. Everywhere. It shimmers through the hair on my arms, Softly brushes my cheek, radiant. It began as a dent, fracture Coming between us, loud, trucks, airplanes Bolts of lightning in a mad sky The careening of comets in outer space, Blasting volumes of supernovas. I heard you cry out, But all of eternity was sucked in And there was nothing we could do. We lost each other. There was nothing left. Everywhere. It watered every plant, gave light to see by Made the children happy, the plants grow There was nothing left of us But pure love. Everything else had come between us.
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