Friday, April 28, 2017

Luckily, this isn't a motivational blog.

Apparently, I am now considered ongoing paranoid-psychotic.  Which I do not actively feel in an uninterrupted way. Adaptation is, eh, great, I guess. 

Sometimes life is going along about 80% like it used to prior to my mental illness, never 100%, but I'm good with that now. I'm basically writing the script~as much as anyone ever can~ & then schizophrenia interjects 254 paragraphs with impunity.  Hate That, but luckily~over time~ it doesn't feel as bad as it should all of the time(just 1/3 to 1/2 of the time). Funny, too, what you can be thankful for. 

Like the IRS picking up with a live person 3 phone numbers & 1 hour of holding later, then actually nicely helping me to resolve a small issue.
But then I needed to call back, & they started asking questions about my 2015 return only for identification purposes.  Sure, I thought as I started to eat Smuckers peanut butter from the jar.  A highly appropriate coping-response I think. 

I happened to look up a favored Pulitzer prize winner only to be met with his mug shots from DUI's.  The Pulitzer came young & early, the mugs late, in senior age.  Then his life partner left him but kept esoterically dissing him in the press. Is there a preferred order for all of that? 

I'm a schizophrenic who never did anything amazing or brave in her life, but mug shots I do not have.  Should I be thankful for that? 

Because, it seems, unlike lots of  the challenged  I read about, I reflexively feel bitter or hurt by what my life is now much more easily than I can access my gratitude or talk about hope or positivity.  I start thinking I'm not thankful enough & then I wonder how I can ever be thankful for this sort of life. 

You have adapted to voices & sounds that hate you waking you in the morning to tell you to run, sit, slap yourself....how come? had enough? why? eat, go, waitsmilelaugh, see what you did? lie down, drink water(I hear this at least 50 times a day), come, it's over, pig, hahahaha, nails-chalkboard sound.... & then I cry when someone says job or a neighbor speaks, or a siren blares. And that's the way it is, sans the my illness does not define me unembraceable bs.  Because many days it does. But then it would appear I mostly gather myself again.  And Mr. Pulitzer?  He can't be having it easy, either. 

7 comments:

  1. I have no easy words of advice or help. All I can say is I'm here, willing to read and listen. (But yes, I'm on board with the peanut butter thing.)

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    1. I happen to have an extra spoon, & hey, it is reduced-fat peanut butter.
      Seriously, your willingness to read & listen actually does help. It is very easy to feel that sharing on this level will drive people away(it has in real life), but if I never do, I tend to alienate myself more. Thank you, Beth.

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  2. I've never known anybody who had been diagnosed as schizophrenic (that I know of, ha!) so this is interesting to me. Were you always so, or did this come on after your previous online life?

    I've always seen you as an intelligent, knowledgeable person who spoke her mind.

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  3. I was diagnosed with late-onset schizophrenia in 2006 after some psychotic breaks. I was so ill, I did not even comprehend nor remember the diagnosis. I was mighty eccentric at times in the past, but my schizophrenia was not a life-long condition.
    I was online & blogging before the condition hit me in mid-life.

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  4. Painting this last week, I dug through old CD's and wandered down memory lane. Matchbox 20 was in the mix and this song called "The Burn." I listened to it over and over.

    "I thought about leaving
    but I couldn't even get outta bed
    Thought about singin'
    but I couldn't remember all of the words
    Breakin'
    but I couldn't get the pieces apart"

    I have this theory that a perfect existence leaves one with a blank canvas of a soul. That the tragedies and joys, triumphs and disasters...these are the colors of us. And you, my friend, are a beautifully and richly hued soul.

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    1. I am sure you FEEL it or you'd not say it, but almost any idea of self-goodness is extremely difficult for me to internalize.
      Now, that doesn't mean I don't like to read it. And for short bits I can sometimes even believe it.

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  5. I can't imagine trying to cope with that type of interruption to life. I'm so glad you are here again, writing. And I don't think you've done nothing amazing or brave in your life. You're being amazing and brave right now, writing this, and just living. And I have a feeling you have influenced others in good ways that you don't even know about. Your posts are always thought-provoking and often humorous. So, yes, no mug shots is really, really good. But there are ALL kinds of tiny little bits of good and smart and brave and beautiful that make up you. And yes, peanut butter is ALWAYS a great coping mechanism.

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