Introduction

Hi, there. Thanks for visiting. I'm starting this blog as an advocate for mental and physical health. I'm a freelance writer and also own a home based medical transcription business. I was diagnosed in 1978 with paranoid schizophrenia and started to become acutely ill three years prior to that, unmedicated, frightened, confused, and in trouble with the law. I graduated from university with distinction the year I became ill. I've never regretted learning how to think at university. I struggled with my illness for 35 years and have reached the top of the mountain now, I think, or the other side, where the grass is greener and the path easier. There's hope for all of us, the whole human race, and never think there isn't hope or joy no matter your circumstances. I'd love to hear your thoughts and experiences with mental illness in all its forms: depression, brain injury, autism, schizophrenia, bipolar, anxiety disorders, etc. and your positive experiences as well as those lies and half truths society and even therapists would have us believe about ourselves.

We are different folks, and we are beautiful. The whole human race is beautiful. Let's celebrate life.

Tuesday, March 08, 2011

The Rose and the Giants

I'm reading a book about a man's recovery from SZ. It's called The Day the Voices Stopped, by Ken Steele. He went on to become a strong advocate for those with mental illness in the US and was awarded at least one prestigious honor. He was instrumental in getting the vote in the USA for mentally ill people. I'm very fortunate I have never heard voices. That must be very frightening. I've never thought of it, but according to Ken Steele, 1 out of 13 schizophrenics commit suicide, and it just occurred to me after starting this book that it's because their voices tell them to kill themselves and how. His voices continually told him to die and gave him detailed instructions how to kill himself from the age of 14. He doesn't blame his parents although they appear to have been unsupportive. Neither do I blame mine. They did the best they could.

Ken Steele died of a heart attack in 2000.

This yellow rose (exuberance and joy) is for all the Roses in my life who supplied me with both beauty to make me caring, and thorns to make me strong.
I would give only the daintiest miniature chocolates dusted lightly with confectioner's sugar to the men who supported me and who supported those I love. You all know who you are.

And a basket of nuts complete with fragments of shell to all of you who believed in me but thought my path through the Forest of Crazy had to echo Pilgrim's Progress.

It was more like the Man of La Mancha. Unfortunately, the giants were real. Sort of. If I take this lifestyle seriously, teacher, does that preclude moments of play?
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1 comment:

  1. judiTuesday, March 08, 2011

    Of course you should play! You don't want to be a dull boy, do you?

    I love the yellow rose.

    ReplyDelete

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