I notice I have a small group of lovely followers, and I'm proud and happy to call them friends. I'd welcome any more comments from anyone. I volunteer with a charitable organization as a "friendly visitor" and today sent the volunteer coordinator a link to this blog. There are no secrets in my world.
A friend (Sue) has suggested I link to other blogs or sites with similar interests, and I'll look around and if I find any that seem suitable I'll ask for permission to link to their site. Sue mentioned strength in numbers and indeed, if you check her profile, you'll find a link to her blog, The Bramble Patch, which is certainly worthwhile.
I still have to figure out (or be told) how to put links into "Different Folks". In the meantime, I'll simply cut and paste here another article I wrote which I'm trying to get published in a mainstream journal or newspaper. It hasn't been edited so might be rough but it reads as follows:
My Struggle With "Split Mind"
by Kenna McKinnon
I don't know if my experience with a diagnosis of paranoid schizophrenia is different from anyone else's. I know how I can get, even on regular doses of psychotropic medication, which I take without fail. My body chemistry can act up anyhow. But most of the time I'm like anyone else; you wouldn't know I have a diagnosis of a serious mental illness. Schizophrenia. "Split mind". No, I'm not a "split personality". That's a misapprehension. Rather, when I become ill, my thoughts become fragments like confetti sweeping in a windstorm through the tunnels of my tortured brain. I become confused, disoriented, frightened. And very suspicious. The motives of others seem sinister and threatening. I feel threatened. The world is hostile. My best friends appear to be enemies. I react with confusion and anger.
Be calm. I won't hurt you. I'm a frightened animal at those times. Approach me gently, as you would a wounded deer. Realize my physical boundaries may have expanded. Don't attempt to touch me or invade my boundaries. Sometimes even being in the same room with someone else is too confining for me, too close. Threatening. You are dealing with a frightened human being. Be gentle, be calm; don't be afraid to call the police if a mentally disturbed individual appears violent or not amenable to reason. Most police officers now are trained to deal with the mentally ill. They will likely take her for a psychiatric evaluation, to a hospital, to a doctor. For help. Perhaps to re-evaluate her medications and available therapy. So to particulars of the reality of her world, the hospitals, the jails, the friends and family who do not understand -- she will welcome the help in most cases, in particular if she is homeless or drug dependent and has no place to go. The mentally ill are often turned out on the street now to fend for themselves. Homeless, unmedicated, they medicate themselves with drugs and alcohol, they beg and busk and collect bottles for a living. They talk to themselves on the street or the bus. They sleep on park benches and in bus shelters. They wheel their earthly possessions in purloined shopping carts. Some ride bicycles trailed by rough homemade wagons. Some are on pensions for the severely handicapped. Others turn to shoplifting or petty crime. The majority are harmless. There but for the grace of God go I. I was fortunate. I had a job. I had friends and family. I had help. My genes are strong and resilient. I am high functioning. I respond well to my medication. Others are not so privileged. I never forget where I came from.
We need understanding and love like anyone, but more particularly when we are down and out. We have learned tolerance and compassion. We don't give up, those of us who have chosen to live and live well, but many of us have low self-esteem. Give us a gentle smile. Give us a helping hand but expect us to help ourselves. We are self correcting. Present reality to us in a patient, firm manner and reassure us we are not in danger. Suggest we evaluate the efficacy of our medication. And laugh with us. We all have developed a wonderful sense of humor; a sense of the ridiculous and sublime; a sense that we are a jest of God.
I am responsible but not responsible. Therein lies the paradox. My persona at times of extreme illness may frighten you. Don't be frightened.
I am a wounded deer, looking into a mirror where the wolves of my illness abound, and then the wolves howl once or twice at the surge of Fluanxol through my bloodstream, at a positive caring word from a friend or stranger, and slink back into my brain -- now approaching the subconscious, approaching the limits of humanity -- where there is a human being in need of understanding and compassion. Now the wolves are gone and I remain head up and somewhat ashamed, tolerance and love renewed for myself and my friends and family. "Split" no more; whole, kind, loving -- I am you.
Showing posts with label schizophrenia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label schizophrenia. Show all posts
Monday, July 26, 2010
An article from the far side
I am so touched that my dear daughter has joined as a follower. Diane Kristine Wild is my daughter. And Judith is my very dear friend. Support is so crucial to our recovery and as we have often been vilified for our unfortunate behaviors so we bask in acceptance and encouragement.
The following article was published in the summer 2010 edition of SZ Magazine http://www.szmagazine.com/. I'm reproducing it here as I don't know how to make a link on my blog! Being somewhat technologically challenged and depending on my brilliant son to help me out with cyber problems...SZ Magazine 47
Robin Hood-ette
I sometimes feel we need a “Robin
Hoodette” to the disenfranchised
peoples of the world.
I was there myself once, and I
know we need a spokesperson. I
feel as though I’m shedding scales
and a cold, thick, dark skin and I am
running into the sunlight.
I was diagnosed with paranoid
schizophrenia in 1978 at the age of
34. I first became ill two years prior
to that, running scared and wild,
unmedicated, misunderstood, in
trouble with the law.
There is ignorance and fear
engendered in the general public
about any form of mental illness.
People hide their depression, their
struggles with Seasonal Affective
Disorder, their schizophrenia, their
bipolar illnesses, and the many other
forms that mental illness takes.
Modern medicine has developed
medications and therapies that
weren’t present even 20 years ago,
yet the stigma remains. Why is this?
Are we responsible for a chemical
imbalance which many specialists say
has as physical a cause as diabetes
or arthritis? Are those who suffer from
a mental illness “bad,” dangerous, or
weak minded?
We deal with prejudice or
incompetence of the very therapists
who treat us, prejudice of employers
and the public (sometimes our own
family and friends), and yet we get up
every morning to face another day.
The media may be partially to
blame: producing glaring headlines
when a “former mental patient”
commits an infrequent heinous crime.
In reality, the incidence of violence
by people with a mental illness is so
infrequent that a headline like that is
warranted when it does happen.
In the past, our friends and family
may have acquiesced to a caretaking
role or worse, abandonment.
I was told I would be incapable of
working for a living; I would be in and
out of mental institutions for the rest
of my life; I was doing well to “cope”
and shouldn’t expect any more from
life such as self-actualization or joy;
that many with my diagnosis lost the
capacity of emotion and my cognitive
capabilities would decline. This came
from well-meaning professionals who
thought they were presenting reality.
Thank God times have changed since
the 1970s and ’80s, but they haven’t
changed nearly enough.
The era is long since gone when
we were institutionalized for life, or
drugged with major tranquilizers,
or relegated to the attic. The law is
slowly beginning to recognize that
certain punishment is not appropriate,
but our governments aren’t so
progressive. Many of our street
people are mentally ill, having fallen
through the cracks of society. Those
of us who struggle with apathy and
lack of motivation may indeed find
difficulty in working, find difficulty in
relationships, but be superhuman
in our efforts to achieve enough
energy to simply get out of bed in the
morning to face another day.
I’ve had my own transcription
business for more than 11 years;
I support myself, volunteer, study
a foreign language, and read
voraciously; I am a published writer;
and I have a network of friends and
other social relationships. I also have
schizophrenia and must get a depot
injection of a psychotropic medication
every two weeks to maintain my
stability.
We all know that medications,
although vital to our mental health,
are not enough. I have learned to
cope; I have learned to go on when
all seemed dark; I have learned to
make good friends; I have learned to
live without abuse; and I have learned
to find joy.
There’s a reason for our struggle
and it may reside in the tolerance and
gentleness we learn. If you are among
the thousands who are struggling, may
you, too, delight and not despair.
Kenna McKinnon is a self-employed
medical transcriptionist and writer.
By Kenna McKinnon
MY VOI CE
Photo: courtesy of Kenna McKinnon
“Those of us who struggle with apathy and lack of motivation may
indeed find difficulty in working, find difficulty in relationships,
but be superhuman in our efforts to achieve enough energy to
simply get out of bed in the morning to face another day.”
The following article was published in the summer 2010 edition of SZ Magazine http://www.szmagazine.com/. I'm reproducing it here as I don't know how to make a link on my blog! Being somewhat technologically challenged and depending on my brilliant son to help me out with cyber problems...SZ Magazine 47
Robin Hood-ette
I sometimes feel we need a “Robin
Hoodette” to the disenfranchised
peoples of the world.
I was there myself once, and I
know we need a spokesperson. I
feel as though I’m shedding scales
and a cold, thick, dark skin and I am
running into the sunlight.
I was diagnosed with paranoid
schizophrenia in 1978 at the age of
34. I first became ill two years prior
to that, running scared and wild,
unmedicated, misunderstood, in
trouble with the law.
There is ignorance and fear
engendered in the general public
about any form of mental illness.
People hide their depression, their
struggles with Seasonal Affective
Disorder, their schizophrenia, their
bipolar illnesses, and the many other
forms that mental illness takes.
Modern medicine has developed
medications and therapies that
weren’t present even 20 years ago,
yet the stigma remains. Why is this?
Are we responsible for a chemical
imbalance which many specialists say
has as physical a cause as diabetes
or arthritis? Are those who suffer from
a mental illness “bad,” dangerous, or
weak minded?
We deal with prejudice or
incompetence of the very therapists
who treat us, prejudice of employers
and the public (sometimes our own
family and friends), and yet we get up
every morning to face another day.
The media may be partially to
blame: producing glaring headlines
when a “former mental patient”
commits an infrequent heinous crime.
In reality, the incidence of violence
by people with a mental illness is so
infrequent that a headline like that is
warranted when it does happen.
In the past, our friends and family
may have acquiesced to a caretaking
role or worse, abandonment.
I was told I would be incapable of
working for a living; I would be in and
out of mental institutions for the rest
of my life; I was doing well to “cope”
and shouldn’t expect any more from
life such as self-actualization or joy;
that many with my diagnosis lost the
capacity of emotion and my cognitive
capabilities would decline. This came
from well-meaning professionals who
thought they were presenting reality.
Thank God times have changed since
the 1970s and ’80s, but they haven’t
changed nearly enough.
The era is long since gone when
we were institutionalized for life, or
drugged with major tranquilizers,
or relegated to the attic. The law is
slowly beginning to recognize that
certain punishment is not appropriate,
but our governments aren’t so
progressive. Many of our street
people are mentally ill, having fallen
through the cracks of society. Those
of us who struggle with apathy and
lack of motivation may indeed find
difficulty in working, find difficulty in
relationships, but be superhuman
in our efforts to achieve enough
energy to simply get out of bed in the
morning to face another day.
I’ve had my own transcription
business for more than 11 years;
I support myself, volunteer, study
a foreign language, and read
voraciously; I am a published writer;
and I have a network of friends and
other social relationships. I also have
schizophrenia and must get a depot
injection of a psychotropic medication
every two weeks to maintain my
stability.
We all know that medications,
although vital to our mental health,
are not enough. I have learned to
cope; I have learned to go on when
all seemed dark; I have learned to
make good friends; I have learned to
live without abuse; and I have learned
to find joy.
There’s a reason for our struggle
and it may reside in the tolerance and
gentleness we learn. If you are among
the thousands who are struggling, may
you, too, delight and not despair.
Kenna McKinnon is a self-employed
medical transcriptionist and writer.
By Kenna McKinnon
MY VOI CE
Photo: courtesy of Kenna McKinnon
“Those of us who struggle with apathy and lack of motivation may
indeed find difficulty in working, find difficulty in relationships,
but be superhuman in our efforts to achieve enough energy to
simply get out of bed in the morning to face another day.”
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