I didn't try the homemade beer marshmallows, but I fed their terrier a hunk of cheese...

No longer being social Sally, I reluctantly went to a cousin's house for Christmas since my 96 year old aunt (my mom's sister-in-law) would be in attendance.  I had previously promised her I would sit next to her at Christmas dinner if she was up to coming.  Insanity has a funny way of keeping promises unkept.  I wanted to keep this one.

Thankfully schizophrenia did not wreak havoc on the day.  Much.  I hugged my aunt and I kissed her (two things I no longer like doing, but she does).  She ate a lot, told stories, & held my hand on & off. I pushed my wouldn't it be great to live in New Mexico near[read:WITH] your daughter line as far as she'd let me.  She seemed warmer to the idea than she was a few years ago.  The idea.  The actuality? She keeps telling her daughter  NO.

She didn't really even want to come out for Christmas - 30 minutes away, with my cousin as chauffeur - but he told her "If you don't come, Mary won't come."  True.  She did.  I did.  I'm glad I went, & she seemed to be, too.   

Now, New Mexico...  maybe we will work on that some more at Easter.

Happy Thanksgiving ~The winging it post.

So things have maybe not been so great lately, but I get help from unexpected places. I don't have any sort of entry prepared in my head, but I did not want Thanksgiving to go by without thanking the bloggers I have been regularly reading.

My connection to anything can be overly fragile because my suspicions loom at some of the worst times. Except when exactly is a good time for suspicions to loom? (if anyone knows this answer please overnight mail it to me in exquisite detail & I will gladly pay postage)

Reading your blogs, I do feel a connection, perhaps because I've chosen to read the people I knew before I felt things go so very wrong with my schizophrenia.  I care about you.  I can't care in the exact same way as I did before because I am so very different now. But you MATTER.  That mattering does more for me than for you, since I so need something real & good that matters in my life.
Simply to me you are real & you are good(mostly, hey, not all the damn time).

I wish you peace  & love  & health  & family  & great pumpkin pie in the just right amounts to meet your wants, & even more so to meet your needs.

Collage ~Allan

Mark, who was blessing me with smart, well thought-out emails when he should have instead been polishing his memoir, suggested art as therapeutic.
I've developed an epistolary friendship with a young man in his 30s serving a life sentence.  He has graciously allowed me to share aspects of his life on this blog.  What follows is my fractured placement of his words:


A lot of people don't know the benefit of having someone to just talk/write to I have my GI Bill still a non-profit organization in Texas, they in turn sent us 87 pounds of yarn go outside to rec to run  race is a huge problem in prison it causes more violence than anything else Kids in the Loop of incarcerated parents  my mom got to participate  they got hats & mittens made by us here my friend's daughter got one of the sets I made, she hugged me which almost made me cry my last ones (shoes) lasted 3 years  I did way too much LSD in my teens  I got some really good news today, I passed my test this is the hardest test they have  I don't know if I would have done so much if I wasn't in prison  he got out of the hole and I have stayed away not the easiest but I would be throwing away a lot just for short term gratification my son wants to be like me -he's not like me I'm glad of that he's thinking about the Army my son graduated and is working concrete I used to save magazines to wrap around my torso in case of stabbings I had that save me once  by nature, I'm kind of intense and usually a bit hostile now, I really try not to be like that and try to be patient and kind - sometimes I still flip out progress not perfection my mom is my inspiration this place is the first place I've been that has visits on Easter, so this will be the first time since 2003 that I've been with my parents on Easter prison riots suck I've been in a 350 (roughly) person gang fight, I've also been in a situation where we took over 2 blocks, very scary situation  I received a pay increase I'm thinking of painting some  I grew up in the city so I didn't really experience allergies, even when I was in the Army  the Germanic tribes have a rich and varied history my daughter is doing dance recitals, competitions and dance camp she got out of ballet though she was in The Nutcracker twice  jazz, tap, and hip-hop I've not been to segregation since 2011 I have been watching a small portion of the RNC I did the punk-rock thing  I signed up for college Monday  we have been doing a lot of crochet work recently for charity we're making hats, mittens, and scarves for the Homeless   after becoming a part of society that is marginalized and generally hated we have our annual "Day with Dad" this coming Tuesday, I can't wait  I was a "colourful" child the kids think it's cool, and a bit weird(that he had a mohawk when younger) I see the parole board in 5 years so it's getting close now no octopus doesn't tasted like chicken it has a chewy texture if done right it tastes kind of the way the sea smells  someone killed (him) a few years back  he owned a deli, he did a lot for the community I was short on the whole meal once and just ordered the sandwich, he gave me the whole meal he told me sometimes you got it, sometimes you don't, right now I've got it and so do you  this prison isn't bad at all, but I've been to some where its bad I've spent 45 in solitary, that was the longest time I've done in seg no windows in some of them, and no lights I would actually love to help guys do the right thing if I ever got out my daughter plays violin and the guitar and paints she has drive I'm very proud of her  I am conflicted at times because the person I was and the person I'm becoming are two different thinking people

Origins Unkept

AIDS activized me in the late 80s.  A columnist in my town's newspaper wrote a commentary blaming AIDS on promiscuity, & less obviously, on gay men.  I wrote a letter to the editor rebutting it, believing it would not be published.  It was, & after a follow-up conversation with the owner/editor, I was invited to write an article about AIDS, its causes, & its toll on society.

My best friend wasn't interested in AIDS she said, so she didn't want to read the article.  She did, however, months later, want me to go with her for her HIV test results.  Negative.  The only time I ever got pissed at Gay Men's Health Crisis was when they ran:  Don't Take the Test.  It's Bad News. ads.  I still hate that(long-defunct) campaign.

I was a little surprised when the church secretary at my father's place of employ made a point of commenting on my letter to the editor so positively.  Years later, she & her husband, the deacon, raised their grandchildren after their daughter succumbed to AIDS.  She'd been exposed to it from a man she met at church.

When I first started reading blogs,  I blog-met two HIV+  bloggers, Nelishia & Mark, whom I grew to like & admire,

This post was going somewhere else entirely a few minutes ago.  The second word of the post keeps tapping me on the shoulder.  3 charities are in my will, but the force has seeped away.

Nothing activizes me anymore, & I'd not fully realized that until now.  I could write that I don't have the mental strength for it - which sometimes is true- but really I no longer have the heart or the proper sustainable mind-set for it.  

Each time I've read  My disability does not define me  I've pushed down envy.  Perhaps I have not yet learned the proper way to calculate mine, because it seems to permeate me.  I'm going to try to recalculate.

I wrote that a few days ago.  I'm in a slightly better place now.  I've been pushing myself -sometimes gently, sometimes not-- to do rather than to think about what I can no longer do.  

Gorillas Are Dangerous and Should Not Be Closely Approached

A sign in Uganda by a  sanctuary in the 1960s.  Judging by all the gorillas that were captured or poached there, the sign should have read: People Are Dangerous.  Run Like Hell When They Approach.

I'm of the mind that the average gorilla has a much better handle on her life than the average human does on hers.  If I had a gorilla helping me, I might be able to deal with the behind-the-scenes working of a simple blog, but alas, I do not.

Thank you so much for all of your comments.  I have not really missed Internet access, but I have missed many bloggers.

As I've mentioned,  I am doing this at the library, with a limited time frame - which is all I can handle now anyway. Never a computer whiz, I've become alarmingly techno-backward since my disorder.

If I comment on your blogs & you reply to the comment, could you please email me with the reply if it is not a bother? Except for Mark's, I am not receiving comments on my blog or follow-up comments on anyone else's(when I check Notify Me) in my gmail.

 If I haven't visited you I can assure you it is because I can't find your blog.  Please either leave a link or email it to marydegliesposti@gmail.com.  I do seem to be receiving emails if they are not part of a blog, but some are winding up in spam.  Got all that?  Sorry.

I just know that if I was a gorilla, I'd be napping right now....

Life as a Shirley Jackson Story

I moved to a new town July 1.  Was it convenience or denial that kept me from noticing questions pertaining to a mental disorder when I last did a change of address at the DMV in 2010?  My little life-ruining (that may be too dramatic, but I'm keeping it for now) mechanism has been called:
1)Schizophrenia with paranoid features
2)Schizophrenia, depressive type  or
3)Schizoaffective disorder ... all at different times & stages.
I decided on schizoaffective disorder as the most innocuous sounding answer(snort)for the DMV form.

I purchased a new car a year ago; for that & all sorts of other reasons, I'd like to keep my license. Schizophrenia with paranoid features sounds like the answer to:  What does really crazy look like?

While trying not to look really crazy on the DMV line, a man pushed past me, saying:  Move.  What are you, Stupid?

"Yes, I'm stupid, MF-er," shot right out of my mouth.

Though many times I've been a mouthy smart-ass in my life, I assure you I never ended any sentence with a MF-er chaser before schizophrenia.  Line waiting, I'd felt like various people were targeting & mocking me, way before Mr. Move.

The paranoid features of my disorder intermittently convince me that I've been especially picked out of your crowd of "betters" to be subjected to ingenious methods of dehumanization.  The scapegoat in Shirley Jackson's The Lottery.
I am sharing this in a This Is Me Now way, not in a negative way.  I remain thankful this isn't always me.  I'd rather have Robin Williams authoring my life though; but I guess, inside, he was a lot worse off than I am.

Who is scripting your life?  I hope it is mostly you.

Her Again?

I've not blogged in quite some time.  I'm a late-onset schizophrenic.  I get paranoid at times.  I no longer keep Internet access in my home; I swore off the blog world while I felt cornered & abused.

I've found I miss some of the bloggers, so I started reading again.  I believe I need a little more interaction with people & ideas.  Maybe not ~ time will tell.  Time tells me all sorts of things. Sometimes I listen & sometimes I try like hell not to.


 I'm sticking a small, hopefully not subconsciously paranoid toe into the blog waters.  I don't even remember the ins & outs of using blogger, so bear with me.  Interact with me, or not.  Some days I want the former & some days the latter.

So tell me your last mistake.  Hopefully, this isn't mine.