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First of all: a very Happy New Year to you! May your 2012 be filled with possibility, community, love and peace.
2011 was an amazing year for our family. Inside our walls, it brought changes that were both discouraging (Ben's reduction in services, leading to a relapse that could have been avoided - down the chute in Chutes and Ladders) wonderful (eventual return to medication, and restoration of baseline; back to good grades at school and a job!!), and challenging (family role upped to that of unofficial supervisors of Ben's official caseworkers - don't get me started). As I often remind myself, it is what it is. This is what we must do right now to keep Ben healthy and productive.
It is not, nor can it be, a forever choice to drive him to work or school every day, to personally make sure he takes his meds after eight years of having that taken care of in the group home where he is no longer allowed to live ("too functional" --- yeah) But for now, it is what we must do, and the results are more than worth it.
Last night I was feeding my cats and thinking suicidal thoughts - I like to call that a Wednesday night. And I was thinking to myself that no one (save others in my position) understands what that is like - to go from some sort of normal person in the daytime to a sobbing, suicidal headcase at night. I thought about the fact that I have spent eight years talking about this very disease, this very state, this very problem, and yet still, people don't get it. No matter how many words I use, no matter how I phrase it, people simply do not understand.
So what do we do with the lack of understanding by others?
Many people believe an abuser's anger causes the abuse in a relationship. However, an abusive person does not become angry the way "normal" people do - their rules are different. And unlike "normal" people, an abuser's anger does not cause them problems; abusive anger is one of their tools. Evidence shows that abusive men who complete anger management programs do not stop abusing. They merely choose another tool to reach the same end.
Warning: I hesitated to write a post on this topic because it is rather controversial. Because of this I want to stress that this is related to my experience and feelings on the comparison and is certainly open to debate.
I was asked the other day “is full recovery from addiction possible?” and that is the question that consistently is asked, and needs to be consistently addressed, because those who struggle with addiction, eating disorders, self-harm, etc. truly need to hear an answer from those whom are in recovery from addiction or recovered. Anyone who follows me on Twitter, or reads my blogs, knows that I believe in full addiction recovery. I know it is possible not only because I am living proof, but because I see people daily who are also living proof.
In my exploration of the psychotic mind, I use poetry as a tool in conveying the terror, irrationality and subtle complexities of psychosis in schizophrenia. Some of this poetry has ended up in the confines of horror magazines, literary journals and street papers. These words are derived not from fictional tales nor lost love, but from true horror deep within my own mind. I bring you to them now in this article, dedicated to the millions with schizophrenia who are haunted by these terrors daily.
"Why raise the bridge when you can lower your expectations of the river?" Taz Mopula
You may be surprised to learn that even the irrational, off-kilter, cattywhumpus and – yes, I’ll say it – whackadoomius among us gaze upon the vast, blank canvas of an unused year and think to ourselves – how can I do better?
Of course, in our case this means – how can I be an even shinier wing nut, a more twisted slinky?
Way back when, Mark Twain reminded us, “It isn’t easy being eccentric.” This observation is as true today as it was when he said it – which is why I’ve had a good long look my own shortcomings and failures in 2011 and put together a list of resolutions which – with luck – will make my humble blog even funnier in the weeks and months to come.
*continued from Part 1*
Last week, I was ruminating on whether or not to select special education as an area of teaching specialization. It may or may not surprise you that I've decided against teaching special education.
We're not doomed to go through life constantly ready to explode.
I am certain many people can relate to this topic when connected to mental illness. In my life, feeling disconnected from people occurred at times that defined large changes in my life--when coming to terms with diagnosis, working to recover, and finally to reach a level of acceptance.
Before Diagnosis
Where do we go from here? Most of the family thinks just to let her hit bottom and then if she reaches out to help any we can. Some want to just keep paying her bills and just let her sit in the house with no responsibilities. Never been on medication and impossible to get to her when she refuses to talk to ANYONE.
Help.
On the day we agreed to videochat to make things less awkward IRL she woke up with a migraine so we rescheduled to the day after, I made sure to assure her that it was okay and to take her time. Later that day, in the late evening we had a nice chat but suddenly she stopped replying, even though nothing had happened. The day after I texted her good morning and said I hope she was feeling a little better. she wouldn't open my texts.
A couple days after I sent her a longer text saying that even though I had only known her for a short time I care a lot for her and would like to know how she are doing, telling her I'm there for her, assuring her I'm not going anywhere even though things might not be very easy. She wouldn't open it.
A week later I sent a text saying not to feel bad about not answering and that I will be there when she is able to answer again. It's been two weeks since this and she still hasn't opened my texts. She hasn't been active at all.
I don't know what else I can do. I assumed she might have fallen into a depression. I have tried to just not think about it anymore, and I haven't that much but when I do it sort of kills me inside...