The Jive Hive

I wrote a book that was accepted for publication in both ebook and trade paperback by Imajin Books, a small publishing company. It's probably coming out in summer 2012. I'm going to be quite busy with it as I'll be doing a lot of promotion. Right now I'm working on three novellas for an anthology, something my publisher suggested. I'll submit them when they're all together and polished. The first one's finished and just going through a final edit.

The Jive Hive is a Young Adult science fiction novel. Was a lot of fun to write.

I like to write horror and/or fantasy because I can write about anything I like. Of course, there are rules, like length, which I follow.

I note there are many people who self-publish now but that involves a lot of expense and a great deal of time promoting and marketing it. Many seem to go with Smashwords or Amazon with ebooks. I wonder how many of those books are truly well written? 

A Faery Story

Once upon a time there was a very sad little girl named Haunted Ella. Nobody loved Haunted Ella. Haunted Ella grew up repressed, bitter, confused, lonely and alone. Haunted Ella hurt people who tried to love her.

One day a beautiful woman came into Haunted Ella's life. The beautiful woman was loved by a handsome prince. The beautiful woman would not let Haunted Ella go. She arranged for help for Haunted Ella. She could not help her directly. The beautiful woman was very sad and frightened for herself and for Haunted Ella.

Many years went by. Haunted Ella was not able to let go of the beautiful woman. She hated and feared the beautiful woman, and loved her in a twisted fashion. And it was not only Haunted Ella who hurt the beautiful woman. The beautiful woman had a thorn in her side that God had given her, like Paul in the Bible. It was a mental and emotional thorn, and the beautiful woman suffered for many years. She also had physical pain.

Then Haunted Ella became better. She was able to love. The beautiful woman still waited. The beautiful woman was still afraid.

One day Haunted Ella did something loving for the beautiful woman which made the beautiful woman very happy. It almost made up for the anguish the beautiful woman had suffered all those years. Haunted Ella awoke from her long insanity and rewarded the beautiful woman by letting her go.

The handsome prince was happy, too.

Wolves go after public figures

As the media reports on Cain and Paterno time after time,  not just reporting but regurgitating the sordid details day after night after day, it concerns me that "copycat" whistleblowers might pop up like mealy bugs and accuse celebrities with impunity and no cause. Creating a chasm of distress in any man or woman who has been in a position of trust, no matter how long ago, for there is no statute of limitations in these matters. Guilt must be proven and if guilt is proven the repercussions on the victims have already been documented as immense and not amenable to treatment or recourse other than imprisonment or large sums of money. If guilt is not proven irreparable damage has been done to the accused which no amount of whitewash can ever repair.

There are some segments of society who are particularly vulnerable to unfounded accusations. These include celebrities, those who are in the public spotlight for whatever reason, and the mentally ill. The media and public unfairly portray and view the mentally ill, in particular the (paranoid) schizophrenic, as violent and dangerous although statistics prove the schizophrenic is more likely than not to be the victim, and at risk of taking his/her own life rather than harming the public. Celebrities know the risks yet sometimes behave like imperfect humans who don't have the notoriety or wealth to make the evening news. The celebrities: politicians, evangelists, sports figures, actors/actresses, musicians, teachers and so on are held to a different standard because they are viewed as influential in society and in a position of trust.

To some respect I agree. But there is another vulnerable segment of the population, the mentally ill.

I'll give an example from my own past, 22 years ago in 1989 when I stopped taking my medication for the treatment of paranoid schizophrenia and began a quick decline into legal difficulties and incarceration in a mental institution for many months. A "not guilty" verdict in court and a new psychotropic medication left the door open for me to pursue a healthier lifestyle, gain employment once more, make new friends, find a church body and start the upward climb to my present good fortune and well-being, free of delusions and obsessions and well for the past few years. No one would suspect my diagnosis but I who was raised to be a very private person have become a public advocate for schizophrenia and its stigma which persists into the 21st century; its often concomitant abuse of alcohol and other mind altering drugs; its destruction of relationships, employment and thus financial difficulties; schizophrenia's physical, emotional, spiritual and mental toll.

In 1989 I was working at a well known educational institute in Edmonton. My children were adults but still young adults. Both children were working almost full-time and had student loans to repay eventually. My son was living at home, my daughter on her own. At that time I met a woman who identified herself as a Lesbian. She had a history of fraud. This woman was raising her 11-year-old granddaughter. She was later to also take in her grandson. The granddaughter had been diagnosed at birth with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome and possibly ADHD. She had been expelled from numerous schools and had difficulty finding a school which would accept her behavior. At the time I met this woman her granddaughter was in Foster Care and the woman seemed reasonable. We didn't have a relationship although briefly that was to occur much later. Throughout the year or two I knew this woman I acted as a surrogate mother to the granddaughter, taking her to a ball game and movies and other venues. This woman drank heavily. I took her to restaurants and spent my own money to the extent of buying her a used car. I was unmedicated at this time and convinced I was God's special agent. My own daughter and son were neglected as a result.

I felt manipulated and abused by this woman but could not seem to break away until my money was gone and she broke off the relationship herself. I didn't see her or the grandchildren again.

I say this because by becoming emotionally and financially involved with this family and the minor granddaughter of a confused and dysfunctional woman, I am presently at risk of completely unfounded accusations. And it scares me. Because I have a history of mental illness and my credibility is not there, and I know it; it's been proven to me time after time. As a minority member of society, no matter how successful I've proven myself in the past 20 years, I have no credibility.

Some people believe in the aphorism, "Innocent until proven guilty" but that's simply not reality. The accuser knows it; the media is anxious to jump on the accused before the facts have been demonstrated or proven in court, and that seems to be the norm now rather than the exception.

Let's be very sure--Quaecumque Vera. Because a life can be destroyed. It could happen to me. It could happen to you.

Celebrating Christmas Low Key

The blessed Advent season is here and we light the second candle for the second week this Sunday in church. My gifts have been bought, wrapped and some of them mailed. I saw this on-line, about homemade gifts. I made homemade gifts one year and it was so much work I vowed never again. But it's a good idea not to support foreign countries and cheap bought gifts. My gifts aren't cheap but some of them come from countries whose human rights history is poor and I think I'd like to support Canadian made gifts next year. I'll certainly try to come up with something more creative next year, starting in the Advent season and paying attention to what's important this time of year, which certainly isn't material goods. I think homemade cookies in a tin or box decorated nicely would be a good idea. I'm thinking of a dear male friend (not romantic) who would enjoy homemade cookies although he's watching his weight. Perhaps something homemade but more diet friendly? These kinds of gifts come from the heart.

I myself got an Amazon.ca gift card from my son for my birthday and enjoyed that very much. I think Amazon is an American company but Amazon.ca is the Canadian branch so that's the best we can do. A lovely idea. My daughter sent me flowers and fruit from a Canadian florist for my birthday, and they shopped here in Edmonton for the fruit. That's what I mean.

Any ideas like the attached link are gratefully received. They require more thought than standing in line at a large American chain store. But more meaningful and this Christmas my decorations are minimal. I'm not playing Christmas music yet. My nativity scene is up and I put up a crucifix on my blog upper right.

Do any of you have traditions you want to start this year? Or meaningful traditions from other years? Christmas Morning Wifesaver is one of those traditions for Christmas morning breakfasts we have here in our house. Used to be an orange in the toe of the stocking until one year I put the oranges in a month before Christmas, when I stuffed the stockings early, thinking I was so efficient, and when the children took their oranges out of the toe they were little shriveled hard things that couldn't be eaten. Ever since then I've bought a box of oranges and put them in a bowl.

Another tradition is Turtles and Toffeefay but this Christmas might be different because my middle son, who lives in Edmonton, has to work on Christmas Day and Boxing Day, and my daughter in Vancouver can't make it for Christmas this year. My elder son is 500 miles away and will be spending Christmas in southern Alberta with family there, I expect. My middle son will come over Christmas morning for a couple of hours and that will be very special. I don't mind spending most of the day alone. We'll celebrate on Tuesday the 27th of December, and for all we know, Christ was born on that day and not the 25th. In fact, I'm almost certain He wasn't born on December 25th.

I hope Cleveland wins the World Series in 2012

The Runner

Run! she said and ran through streets

steaming with rain while hot winds from Saskatchewan

whipped her hair,

Fondled her face

and tore the soles of her shoes from the pavement.

Run, she said when she was thirty-five or forty,

Too young really to feel the ligaments grow sore and stiff

A precursor of retirement

And arthritis which lamed her joints

Bent her ankles and toes

Her fingers not able to sign the forms for the race

As her seventieth birthday approached

Much loved but broken for the last sprint

Of her life as her friends gently stooped

And lifted her to the finish line.

This is for all those friends and family who are sore, worn out, tired and discouraged. I get that way, too, sometimes, and only spit and baling wire keeps me going.

Beloved November 2011

An interesting fact, no, love is not only a decision but after the initial rough ride of say a year or two (or thirty-seven) it's a feeling once again. And it's no nay never no never no more...

My husband used to call me Puff before he died in 1971. Little Jackie Paper loved that rascal Puff...

But there must be a better name for me and a better song. Maybe I can make it better. Reframing, you know, and a new love and a new year. A new smile.

If there are any comments I'd be interested in the song that describes me now. Maybe not strings and sealing wax, but pearls and books and languages, music and clowns...what????

Beloved

I know what fear, love and anger are and they all swirled together in my tortured mind for too many years.

I've been a wild Rover for many a year
And I spent all my money on whiskey and beer
And now that I'm older and ready to go
Oh, I never will play the wild Rover no more...

And it's no, nay...never
No, never no more
Will I play the wild Rover
No never no more.

Multiple Personality No

My psych assured me a month ago that I don't have a multiple personality disorder (dissociative disorder). I don't think so, either, come to think of it. Just a result of over thinking and avoidance, including the game of analyzing everything that comes my way, like I almost tried to "fix" various people in my life and make everything the way I thought it should be, when the important issues weren't those at all. There's only one important issue and that's remaining well and free and making someone else happy to make up for all the pain I've caused over the years, if that can be made up. I don't blame anyone for anything not even myself. If anyone is still in the throes of mental illness I think it's like a prison sentence in one's own mind, that's my experience, and there's nothing that compares to the torture of OCD and delusions, depression and paranoia. If I can make anyone's life a little easier I will but not at the expense of my own freedom or happiness. Selfish? You bet your a** it is. I want to survive and I want my loved ones to be happy and survive, and that's the only way to ensure it.

Think Think Think

My life is taking shape and it's amazing that I didn't think of these things sooner. My life could have been so much easier if I'd simply been able to think straight and not been governed by obsessions/compulsions and delusions. I look back on the past two or three years even and see how much I've learned. It would have been so simple to have communicated what I know now and avoided a court case, innuendos and insults. The fact is I didn't want to commit myself to a course of action and so stayed on the fence like my husband used to call a Mugwump (face on one side and rump on the other). I decided rather recently that relying on feelings isn't the best course of action and some things simply need a decision. Like love is a decision not a feeling, I've heard, and I finally understand that.

Multiple Personality Disorder or Dissociative Disorder?

My poem "The Psychiatrist" was published this week in the provincial newsletter of the Schizophrenia Society of Alberta, the first issue for the provincial society and not just the Edmonton branch. Also three of my photos were featured, I note, although they didn't give me credit for them (that's okay, I submitted them to the Branch for their use after a BBQ this summer).

Writing is one of the few vocations where people don't look at you strangely if you say you're not paid, haha, but I still am waiting to hear about my book on SZ I co-authored with Austin Mardon and sent to a publisher a few weeks ago. It's called The Insanity Machine and watch for it because I'm sure it'll be published eventually. There's another one called The Jive Hive that's being reviewed by some middle readers as that's the market for that book, not about SZ at all, a SF/fantasy. I'd like to get a short story published, too. So far good luck with articles and poetry although haven't been paid for poetry.

I'd love to talk to an old friend of mine to whom I caused a great deal of grief in my crazy days. I had a dream last night that I was explaining to her the progress of my illness and it was comforting to me to at last be able to articulate and also of course, if it weren't a dream of my own making, I'd hear her side of it. Nothing can be done but patience in the case of a serious breakdown like I had 20 years ago, but apparently OCD had a lot to do with my behavior, and that makes a lot of sense now.

I also wonder, as I've wondered before, if I truly am SZ or if I'm multiple personality disorder or what they call dissociative something or other now? A friend mistakenly thought the book "Sybil" indicated that one of Sybil's personalities was SZ, and it wasn't, but perhaps one of mine was or is? And it's something I want to discuss with my excellent psych so I think I'll make an appointment tomorrow to see her at the end of the month if I can. If I'm patient everything may fall into place and I seem to make new inroads every week or two with understanding where I've been and where I may be going.

I sometimes feel overwhelmed with transcription work but surely that's normal considering the amount of work I have to do keeping up the writing end of my career, the fact that I'm older and perhaps slower now, and also I've been transcribing for many years and maybe just maybe am a little tired of the focus and repetition necessary. People who envy entrepreneurs who work at  home don't understand the discipline and cost needed. Emotional cost as well as financial, as I get paid only for the hours or minutes I actually work, and of course there's no vacation time or sick leave, and any time I take time off is time away from a paycheque. It never fails to amaze me how many people think it's easy and take a few months instruction then plan to make their fortune, I presume. 

Back to multiple personalities, I broached the subject with my psych way back in the 1980s and he didn't comment, just asked me if I had a name for my personalities and I said yes, one was The Buccaneer (a rather nasty individual) and the other gentle soul was named Mary. But my psych didn't pursue it nor did he comment further, and I just thought of it the other morning after I'd had the dream in which it was brought up again.


I understand that Dissociative Disorder is brought about by traumatic events in one's childhood so that the child tries to protect herself by isolating her personality that is being abused inwards and allowing another persona to take the brunt of the abuse. That's what I understand, if I'm explaining it properly. It results in a split. That could very well have happened. The theory is not accepted by every expert in the field and some say there's no such thing as Dissociate Disorder or Multiple Personality Disorder. I'm not sure if it's present in every culture but I've read that it's more prevalent in North America. It might be a case of over diagnosis.

More Poetry for the Sad Mind

I wrote the first poem when I first became ill in 1975 or thereabouts, and the second only recently. You see, it took me about 37 years to become well. Now I'm starting all over again but in the future not the past. It's a new beginning and anyone can have a new beginning every day, but not everyone is as lucky as those of us who are the third of SZ who respond to treatment and become well. There are others who do not and I don't want to downplay their anguish and the impossibility perhaps of becoming more than they can become, as it may not be possible for them. Humbly I say, let's start over, and the families and friends of those who suffer, whether it be from depression, bipolar, SZ, anxiety disorder, OCD or brain damage, realize that their loved ones are not the person they once were and appear not to respond. It's important not to over protect our loved ones, but to let them know we're there to listen and help as far as we can if they ask us or need us. Somewhere in our brains there's a great collective recognition of love.

The Metal Foot

Take me not from gritty noon and silver shores, of innocence a footprint

In the sand.

For I follow, crippled, and my leg is bound with wire.

It sings, in agony, it blazes

In the sun.

For I follow, to the metal edge of day.

I see others, past the breakers,

And they seem to ride the wind

They come foaming from the ocean

But are gone before I turn.

(My foot is cramped and tender

But their song is not of pain).

Leave me to the brine and little boat; I will follow with my eyes

Though my heart is like an arrow

As you go.

For though I hobble, crippled, to the burning rim of Time

It would still be only half my journey done.

Take me not, therefore, from innocence (a footprint

In the sand)

For I follow, crippled, and my leg is bound with wire.

It sings, in agony, it blazes

To the metal edge of day.

The Metal Foot #2

The wire was twisted metal
But my leg has healed its sore
Like a boot of steel and plaster
Till my feet can touch the floor.

And the wind is running with me
While the scent of flowers play
With my friends who ride the breakers
With our faces bright with spray.

For this best of running coolness
And this newness angels put
I am flying I am singing
Through the metal cloven foot.

For my face is bright and yearning
And my legs are strong and brown

I run PAST those ghostly lovers,
High where the surf has blown.

Anonymous

Thank you for your comments and your concern about your brother. He is on heavy meds and probably can't think clearly because of that, not because of his bipolar, although it could be a combination of both. Perhaps his meds should be reviewed and he should be seen by an understanding therapist who'll help him to optimize his life, but I don't know the situation so can't really comment. I know when I was very ill everything related to me. That's normal for a very ill person as it's the brain that's dysfunctional in that case and therefore one's own brain is the focus, and how we think and feel. I'm very glad he has such an understanding sister and family, though, as that's important even though he might not show it. The poetry might touch him or it might not. I'm including a couple more poems I read to the Schizophrenia Association open house here recently.

I wish the very best for your brother. More later.

You who are Candy

You who are a delusion

I chased you through hallways of confectionary

Fast down the tanks of marshmallow crème

to chocolate covered daydreams far past

the bricks of sugar which implacably

you impersonated

all too well for my adolescent lust.

You knew that yet with candied orchids

poisoned sticks of mulberry still you

plied me with and then I

hallucinated and they told me

I was dangerous.

The Psychiatrist

She listens

while the sky rolls up like parchment

layers are revealed

hells and heavens tumble out

I wish I had a childhood

I could tell her.

The young warriors with their sex and drugs

cigarettes. They have the problem

Maybe they won't talk but we

Cradled in our hour she

Listens.

Impossible?

No such thing as impossible, I said in my last post? Yes, of course there is such a thing as impossible. Note the Serenity Prayer used by 12 Step groups the world over:

God grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change,
Courage to change the things I can
And wisdom to know the difference.


For most of my adult life I made a great many mistakes but they couldn't be helped. I was the victim of my illness. Now I can make amends by living it over in a future unfettered by OCD and delusional thinking.

I can woo again the gentle spirit of love.

The teachers who taught me to think are eclipsed only by those who taught me to feel.

Solution Focused Methods

This refers also to martial arts, which I'm interested in taking again; perhaps karate downtown this time rather than Jujitsu, which is so difficult to get to because it involves a lot of bus rides, walking, and cold dark nights in winter. I agree martial arts has a philosophy of deflecting the blows of one's opponents and using their own strength against them, focusing, all the Zen practices which are not mentioned in this article.

An interesting discussion with Katri on Google+ about choices, solution focused methods and how small actions consistent with aims contribute to one's future and can change it. We make choices in everything to coincide with an aim or not--making no decision is a choice in itself, we can't help but make choices.

This article mentions a couple of Australian aboriginal cultures. As an Anthropology major I am very interested in how the philosophies, lifestyle and spiritual practices of indigenous peoples affect their world and how we could learn so much from them. But Earth is resilient and will heal any scars we may think we're placing on her. She is our Mother Earth and will simply fold her wings over the damage and be here long after we are gone, perhaps a Paradise if we let her or perhaps simply a better future for the dolphins and whales, the insects, the creatures of natural selection and a more formidable intelligence than ours. And not so arrogant. The Greeks started this Western philosophy of control over our environment, bodies and other cultures with their dichotomy between mind and body.

Modern physics agrees with aboriginal philosophy; there is no dichotomy between mind and body, between choice and action. Zen and the Art of Archery was an interesting book I read as a younger woman in the 1970s. Focus and aim, the arrow will go true to the target, but it needs much preparation to achieve the focus. It only appears easy. Takes years of discipline and preparation, practice. Like the little boy said in Peanuts when Charlie Brown asked him how he played the piano so well when the black keys were just painted on? The little boy said, "practice."

There is no such thing as impossible. Mankind survived because of her intelligence. And so do we. Think think think.

Mother Earth, view from University of Lethbridge August 9, 2011

Right, professor? You must teach them to think.

Involuntary Treatment

This from the National Post, and I agree with the author. Without involuntary treatment I would not have been able to get on with life 20 or 30 years ago and be as well as I am today.

National Post  Jul 29, 2011 – 7:30 AM ET | Last Updated: Jul 28, 2011 4:07 PM ET

By Susan Inman

Our daughter doesn’t want you to protect her “right” to be mentally ill. Through no fault of hers, or ours, she has spent the past 11 years experiencing the extraordinary challenges of learning to live with a schizoaffective disorder. This illness, a combination of schizophrenia and bipolar disorder, has at various times thrown her into the horrors of prolonged psychotic episodes. Perhaps the most dangerous part of her illness is the fact that, when in the grips of a psychotic episode, my well-educated daughter is not capable of realizing that she’s ill.

Psychotic disorders present a unique challenge to the people who live with them and to the safety of the public. While people with these disorders who are being treated pose no greater threat than the rest of the population, research has clearly shown that people who are not being treated do have a higher rate of violent behavior. Many of these victims of mental illness end up committing crimes and are relegated to the penal system, where they become further damaged and isolated while making no progress towards a healthy, normal life.

We are currently hearing a lot of justified criticism in the media about the pathologizing of normal human experiences both by psychiatry, with its revision of the already problematic Diagnostic and Statistical Manual, and by pharmaceutical companies who want the public to take ever-increasing amounts of unneeded medication. These are

legitimate problems. But psychiatry and medication are still badly needed by some, those who suffer from genuine mental illnesses and would benefit from any of a number of readily available anti-psychotic medications.

There are many reasons that some people may be unable to obtain anti-psychotic medication. But there is also anosognosia. This well-researched neurological phenomenon means that 40-50% of psychotic people, due to their mental illness, are simply not able to understand that they are in fact sick. In these tragic cases, the only effective way to treat the illness is to force people to take medication. Many are uncomfortable with this approach, but when a symptom of the illness is a literal inability to realize that one is sick, there are no other logical options.

Forty four U.S. states have recognized that the only humane option in these cases is to force patients to be medicated, and have developed some form of mandated treatment. The Mental Health Commission of Canada, however, appears to be headed in a different direction. It currently is partnering with the Canadian Mental Health Association (CMHA) on a research project looking at human-rights issues related to mental illnesses. The CMHA has a long-standing position, published on their website, opposing involuntary treatment. They believe that people must have the choice to reject treatment. They don’t discuss the indisputable research demonstrating how many people experiencing psychosis aren’t able to freely choose the option that could liberate them from the chaos of psychosis.

My daughter is the fortunate beneficiary of several excellent psychoeducation programs that exist in Vancouver for people with severe mental illnesses. These programs, which need to be better funded, help people learn to accept their mental disorders and better manage them. Despite our daughter’s very healthy acceptance of her quirky brain and her extensive knowledge about these disorders, during relapses her understanding of her illness vanishes; she counts on us to take care of her during these episodes and ensure that she isn’t left to deteriorate in an untreated psychosis. Current trends among people who want to protect her “human rights” will make it even more difficult than it already is to protect her genuine human right to be sane.

A poem for a friend #2

Emma's Garden

by Kenna Mary McKinnon

I slide my spade in the secret earth

looking for my mother's heart.

Look, she's there on the jet wing

silver in the stars

There is dust here in the memory

my cousins don't remember

quite the same.

They don't see us in the belt of Orion

just beyond the Dog star

Twinkling near the dawn.

All women stir like foxes

Kathleen in the north and Joyce.

I'm coming flying to you

Deep within the autumn

of the red gold noon.

Kathleen of the south

who like my mother, died.

They left me, still I search

those familiar women's faces

Kathleen is still there

Close by the Cliffs of Dover

So  long as I remember.

Motor to the west of England

looking for she who clung to me,

My mother and my Nemesis.

My parent and my fate

the music of my years

The soul of hands.

Still my spade in the place of hearts

turns up preachers, impotent men,

clamorous children, all who

will someday reach maturity

 and leave me.

Riding on the tip of centuries

I will you to remember me

I will remember you.

Still I cultivate my garden ripe with souls

Look for God

and remain faithful.

The shrill eagerness of Herod

condemning Christ

Pilate wipes his hands

What more may we do now

In this magnificent year

Than remain faithful

As I have with my spade thrust into soft

my mother's heart.

Golden on the Pleiades

And silver in the stars.