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?

No Woman is an Island

I very much want to make some changes in my life and carve out a new destiny for myself now that the sentencing is over and I can move on knowing what I have to deal with. I'll never do it again, and in order to be able to determine that I must have help. I'll be seeing a new psych at FACS and am delighted. I'm going to lay on her a lot of the load to sort out, which I haven't been able to do so far. Come a long way, baby, but not far enough. It occurred to me only yesterday that I don't have to do it all myself. Nor am I alone.

I struggled for most of my life without a lot of support thinking I was the Lone Ranger or something. It was hard and I must say impossible to make total progress without blood, sweat and tears over a very long period of time.

I don't have to do it all myself.

I'm not alone.

I'm not talking about only the psych, either, but all with whom I come into contact with. Including the instruction I'm embarking on in the Catholic church. I've been searching for a spiritual community for so many years and didn't find it. Now I think I've found it. It'll take a year or more before I'm ready for any kind of decision but I've found a church that allows me to question and think for myself, and I'm delighted with that, too.

Everything is falling into place finally and I think I just wasn't ready before.

When the student's ready the teacher will appear.

How different the last 35 years would have been had I known then what I know now! And been able to apply it.

Welcome, Beautiful Littlewolf; a question

We're welcoming another follower, folks, and I'm delighted. There's no need to get involved, R., just hang around until you get your feet wet and then dive in with a comment if you like. I feel really stupid because I told my new friend there was something wrong with her blog. Just me trying something new. Note to self: don't try something new and tell anybody about it! I'll just embarrass myself.

I ordered a turquoise and pearl choker today, a lovely set for $12 from Sue's Etsy account. She sure makes beautiful jewelry and at a very reasonable price, too, for anyone who's interested. Just click on "The Bramble Patch" and she'll tell you all about it. Sue is a rocket surgeon by day (or something very similar...???) and a part-time artiste by night. If anyone wants a link to her Etsy jewelry I'll provide it. She's much too modest. Look for the link on "My Favorite Sites" to the right of this post.

That brings up the question of adorning oneself. It seems to be endemic in humanity including both men and women to adorn ourselves, rather with tattoos, extravagant hairstyles, colored tees, nose rings, jewelry of all sorts...look at any nation or tribe in the world and you'll see a wealth of adornment and color. Even mutilation like piercing, ear lobe elongation, or binding feet was meant for beauty. What is it in the human race that creates this need for adornment and beauty? Also music - percussion in particular, chanting and singing with the human voice - seems to be a common thread running through our different cultures. I've read somewhere that ball and stick games have existed throughout history in all different cultures and centuries. The string game we used to call "cat's cradle" on one's hands is also played in all cultures, no matter how isolated. Are we hard wired for beauty and recreation?

House of Happy

"Somewhere over the rainbow bluebirds fly"

Everything's fine here in the House of Happy. I'm going to be doing community service work in the area I chose and am co-authoring a book with someone who also has schizophrenia. I've written 62 pages so far. It's going to be a fairly small book but full of good stuff - I hope.

This is the year of relationships and forging a new career. I'm slowly making new friends - good people, and letting go of what and who isn't so good. Paying more attention to old friends and family, and enjoying their journey, too.

Writing more articles, several on SZ, and the book is about those challenges, too. I know many people who have secrets. Can't say I have now but I can be discrete. I've learned to tap dance on the stage of life.

This iris is for Heart's Day for all my good friends and followers. And especially those of you who struggle as I have with SZ or any other mental disability. Not a handicap. A disability.

The iris is the emblem of the Schizophrenia Society of Canada.

The Forest of Crazy

I love Sue's comment about "The Forest of Crazy". I learn a lot from my friends and family. And I'm going to learn more from a new psych the court has appointed for me. I'm thrilled that I'll be getting the help I need. Any charity or organization or business that doesn't want me perhaps doesn't understand. I had no criminal record until now, and it's nonviolent and because of delusions and obsessions as a result of chronic SZ over the past 36 years.

Someone believed in me enough at one time 36 years ago in 1975 to call her friend and get counseling for me, which went on for three years until I became so enmeshed and lost in the Forest of Crazy that I scared the pants off her and probably my psychologist, too. No coincidence perhaps that happened after three years of counseling. I probably terrified my friends two years ago that I couldn't do it this time, I couldn't get well, I couldn't see reason. Well, haha, SZ and all the demons in hell, we won! The court and the complainant and I, we all won, and that is not necessary to win, but it means health for me and satisfaction for the legal system. I'm on three years probation. What does that mean? I have a few restrictions that are good for me and good for the legal system. We have a wonderful government.

I believe in the humanity of man and woman. And I'm glad the case is over. Now I can breath and get on with my life. And I will. Anyone care to join me in this new game and adventure called life? Yes, there is life after almost death. This disease almost killed me. And I'm so grateful it's over. The end of something is the beginning of something else. Hello, friends and hello, world. Three close friends and my son were in the courtroom with me. I won't let anybody down again. Ever.

Skold and Cheers and all that with - of course - dealcoholized grog

HAPPY NEW YEAR, FRIENDS AND ACQUAINTANCES!

The new year promises to be the best one yet. For one - thanks to the Forensic assessment a psychiatrist I felt I could respect and like offered to see me as a patient. And it's time I saw a psychiatrist. I saw one about two years ago on one occasion but he didn't take me on as a patient at that time, and my last psychiatrist retired in 1997 or thereabouts. I've been seeing nurses if I see anybody at all. Nurses are okay but they can't help me, sorry, nurse. The psychiatrist said that, too. Sorry, nurse, you're not a doctor and never will be a doctor. I'm thrilled about something else. The psychiatrist I saw said my delusions and obsessions were medication related, and she pointed out that I haven't been bothered with them for two years (since my unfortunate brush with the law) and that I'd started taking Celexa (an antidepressant I take to cope with SAD) about then. She said Celexa is known to help obsessions and delusions. I was dumb struck so to say, and on thinking about it, had to agree the timing was right. So I'm going to take Celexa all the time now, not just in the wintertime, and I'm so delighted that it can be helped by meds that I'm wondering if anyone else knows that, or if it's something new? Or something that only occasionally would happen to help someone, and not everyone? I know not everyone is happy with Celexa but it works very well for depression for me and I take only 20 mg a day. It's worth the forensic involvement for me to find that out. I thought it was a character flaw. Often I think psychiatric problems are looked upon as a character flaw not only by the unknowing public but by ourselves.

And when she asked me what I had learned, I said "I learned it's not all about me". And I'm beginning to see what that means. Maybe someone else can clarify that thought and what it means to them. But I know ego driven people, and although an ego is necessary, narcissism isn't!

Welcome Piia!

I'm very happy to see Piia joined my site as a follower. I left a comment on one of your posts, Piia.

I just edited my last post. I think I was too hard on the charity, but I was hurt by their reaction. I think I was naive in thinking anything else of an organization. They perhaps didn't handle the situation well, but they also may not be fully informed.

I'm not afraid to be public but I am also discrete when I have to be.

Discretion is the better part of valor. I remember my mother saying that. She had secrets. I have no secrets. I lived most of my life in fear and insecurity. Perfect love casts out fear. And I'm surrounded so far by loving friends and family. I moderate the comments here because I realize some people who read a blog like this may be very ill. But so far I've not had that problem. However, I'm not getting involved in any forums other than Anne Collins, which has nothing to do with mental illness. This isn't a forum. It's a blog. And all are welcome who believe in the oneness of humanity, respect and integrity. Knowledge and "whatsoever things are true."