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divine, hope, inspiration, love, mental health, mental illness, mentally ill, random, schizophrenia, stories, symptoms, writing
Yesterday afternoon my husband and I took public transportation (which is common for us). There weren’t that many people in our car so we sat down. I took the window seat and my husband sat in the aisle seat next to me. A man got on the train and in a loud voice said, “I am Kenneth Jones! Yes, I am Kenneth Jones! Kenneth Jones, here!”
He sat across from my husband and I and asked my husband his name. My husband gave him his nickname and Kenneth shouted it out several times and then fist bumped my husband. “Nice name! Very nice name! Do you like it?”
My husband laughed a little and said, “I better like it, I’ve had it since I was born.”
Kenneth laughed and then for the next twenty minutes he acted as though he had an audience of thousands as he raised his voice, threw his hands in the air, and made gestures to go with the point he was trying to make.
In 1981, Kenneth had a check for $900 that he showed to a friend. He had made the money welding. On his way to the bank, his friend, and several other men, jumped him, hit him on the head with a crow bar, slit his ear, cut his throat, broke his jaw on both sides, and left him for dead.
Kenneth said in the hospital he made a choice to live his life differently. He said he knew that he had love inside of him and that the right thing to do was to give that love away. “You are filled with love. You don’t hide that love in the closet. You give that love away. If you give that love away, it will come full circle and before you know it, that love will find you! Yes, give it away and that love will seek you out and come back to you.”
Kenneth’s final words to us were, “Don’t hide what you have inside! Give it away! Give what you have to other people!”
Some people with schizophrenia attribute symbols and meaning to everything that happens to them, and around them. When I am psychotic I think that way constantly. Maybe I do this when I am not psychotic, too. I like to imagine it is possible for prophets to get onto public transportation, give my husband and I a message, and then get off a stop or two before us. I like to think that, because believing life is a series of random events takes the magic and mystery out of our existence.
I believe I was right where I needed to be yesterday, and heard what I needed to hear. Even if you don’t believe that, you have to admit that Kenneth said some beautiful things about love and life. I want to believe that if I give love away freely that love will seek me out and find me again, hopefully when I need it most.
I can’t always tell which thoughts are me and which thoughts are my illness, and in these cases it doesn’t matter, I’ll be happier choosing the one that involves some miracles, some mystery, and the power of love.
I must tell you a story that is occurring now in my life. When I first got to the institution, there was this tall man who didn’t proclaim to be of any race for he was what most Americans call a “Heinz 57.” I never heard him talk about what crime he committed; yet, he’d been there a couple of years and he was easy to talk to. He would share his cigarettes and snacks as we talked about whatever.
However, at one of the first dances that I attended at the institution (about 3 months into my stay there), he slow-danced with me and tried to kiss my cheek.
I slapped him, shouted a few choice words and walked off. He got in trouble and was confined to his ward for a while before he could go back outside. From what I heard, after about 5 years, he got out of the institution. During that time, I just had a feeling of dread every time I saw him and I tried to avoid him.
Then about seven years later, this man shows up at the very same mental health facility I am at now. One thing I liked about him was that he could pronounce my real name correctly; many just call me by my nickname for it’s easier to remember and pronounce. He called my name; I looked up with astonishment.
After a while, he pronounced his love to me, but I wasn’t ready to receive it…I was still looking at him like some strange “Heinz 57.” Yet as my back started to hurt and cramp, he gave me a short massage and I just knew: I needed him and he needed me.
I know people are going to think I’ve gone nuts once they start seeing us hold hands like we did yesterday; but I don’t care. I had asked God to bring someone into my life that could hold me and love me; I didn’t ask that he look like some super model…lol. After all, I’m no longer a youngster myself.
Anyways, that is my Thanksgiving story I share with you and your followers. I know this man loved me at the institution, but he “gave the love away…” and now the hoop is complete. God Bless you all! -LaVancia
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The one thing I hope for all people is to love and be loved. Thank you for sharing your story! Love is definitely something to be thankful for.
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The main problem I still struggle with though is low self-worth, like I’m not worthy to be loved…and he gets a bit annoyed at that, but he understands it as well. Thanks for your blog and the ability to speak freely without judgment on it! -LaVancia
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Self-worth is something I am getting better at with age. I have started to accept myself more and more. I had no self confidence at all when I was younger and so didn’t value the gifts I had to give. Thanks for always sharing your story and adding so much information to my blog!!! 🙂
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Anytime!
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This man was not so crazy, he was very right. All as we give away and send out of thought, talking and acting will come back, so why not share the love.
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Yes, he was right.
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This is such a good message, for someone with schizophrenia to hear such a positive message can really be beneficial.
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Thank you!! 🙂
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