Category Archives: relationships

Does it Scare You When I am Just Like You?

07 Saturday Apr 2018

Posted by in bipolar, caregivers, hope, mental illness, relationships, schizophrenia, stigma, Uncategorized

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Undeniably, there are times when I need special accommodations for my illness. There are times when I need people to be aware of the fact that I have schizophrenia and either help me out or give me the space to try and help myself. But there are those glorious times when I am not fragile, I am fierce and tough, and intelligent, and funny and I don’t need any special attention or care.

It is the space where I don’t need anything more than to be treated like any other human being that I live for and love. It is those people who treat me as if I belong, as if I’m not different, as if I won’t break or fall apart, or as if I am not fragile or needy or imperfect who makes me feel the healthiest, the happiest, the most energized, strong and capable. They help me in my healing and help me to become more and more of myself.

I have several people in my life who treat me this way both friends and family. I had an experience with a relatively new friend though, that was the epitome of empowering and normalizing and badassery.

I have a writing buddy who I have been talking to on Skype every Wednesday for months. We talk about our writing, share resources, occasionally read each other’s work, take classes together, and basically bolster each other up and along with our writing goals. She wanted to come out to California and see me. My husband was going to Miami to see his mother for a week, and he never leaves me alone.

My writing buddy, knowing about the fact that I have schizophrenia and that my husband doesn’t want to leave me alone for a week, offered to come and stay with me. She has never been to my house. We have never met in person. She planned on staying ten (which could have been long) days. And, the biggest part of this is my having schizophrenia didn’t scare her. Her coming across the country to stay with an almost stranger who she knows has schizophrenia is gutsy, brave, and speaks volumes about her as a person.

She obviously houses no stereotypes about my illness. She obviously expected things to go and be okay. She was not afraid; she was not reluctant. She just did it, and it was productive and fun. We were creative, talkative, ate good food, walked in the park, saw museums, and shared writing, writing, writing. We developed a morning routine together and worked well while we were both in the same room. We were two women together who love our art and are friends. We shared our passion, and we established our relationship.

I got to put my identities writer and friend before my identity as someone with schizophrenia. I got to be normal for ten days. I got to be a creative woman who loves words and can be a good friend.

I got to show someone my neighborhood, my home, myself and it went well, and I was well. And that is so much, so very much, it is a piece and a part of everything.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Is it Your Personality or is it Schizophrenia?

02 Monday Apr 2018

Posted by in hope, mental illness, relationships, schizophrenia, Uncategorized

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When I was a teenager, and I would go to visit my dad (my parents are divorced), I would frequently get impatient with him because he talked to people wherever we went. If we went to the grocery store, he would talk to the woman next to him about rice, and as we were checking out, he would talk to the cashier about the weather, the specials that day and anything else that crossed his mind.

Recently, my in-laws come over from France, and commented to my husband, that it makes them uncomfortable that I talk to strangers at the train station, grocery store, in restaurants and on the street.

So often people claim that they have become their mothers, but in this case, with my relative’s observation, it occurred to me that I have become increasingly like my dad.

I mentioned earlier in the week that my writing buddy is visiting for a week from Virginia, while my husband is out of town. The two of us went to a hotel to celebrate Easter at a brunch buffet. I made the reservation for eleven, but by ten in the morning we were both hungry and wished we could dig into some of that food.

I called the hotel, but they said they were booked and couldn’t’ get us in early. We decided to head to the hotel, hang out in the lobby and possibly walk around the block. We agreed that something about being near all that food made us feel better than waiting at home.

When we arrived at the hotel, we climbed the curved staircase with wood railings to the second floor where the brunch was set up. There was a man at the top of the stairs assisting guests. I told him that we had reservations at eleven but that we had come early. He said, “Well, you need to check in on the first floor, and it is possible they can seat you now. I’ll take you down to the desk.”

We followed him back downstairs, and he asked my last name. I spelled it for him and then said it. He went to the desk in front of us and told the woman and man sitting there my name and that I had reservations at eleven and could they possibly seat us earlier. The man behind the desk said, “Unfortunately, we are booked.” I said, “No problem at all, we will take a seat in the lobby and wait until our table opens up.”

Before we could walk away from the desk, the man who had met us at the top of the stairs said, “I’ll take you to your table.” I said, “Wow, you know how to pull some strings!” He laughed, and the two of us talked the whole way up the stairs until he handed us off to the hostess.

Later, while I was getting food from the buffet line, I saw the man who got us our table, and he asked me how I liked the food. I said, “It is so beautiful, and it is delicious. The perfect way to celebrate Easter.”

While Joyce and I were eating, the same man came to our table, and I told him I was standing up (instead of seated at our table) because my back hurts when I sit. He told me all about his back injury and asked if I wanted to walk around the buffet and loosen my back up. He said if I did, he would sit down and keep Joyce company. We all laughed really hard.

I talked to about a half-dozen other people while we were enjoying our buffet, and I know it isn’t much, but it made my day brighter. I love talking and interacting with strangers. It is a shame that my schizophrenia keeps me isolated so much of the time because what once made me impatient about my dad, brings me great joy.

Becoming our parents isn’t always as scary as it sounds.

 

 

 

 

 

Love, Marriage and Schizophrenia? You Bet!

21 Wednesday Mar 2018

Posted by in caregivers, hope, mental illness, relationships, schizophrenia, stigma, Uncategorized

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This post is to all the people with schizophrenia (in all its forms – paranoid, schizoaffective) who have asked me about love.

There is nothing wrong with being single. Being single can and is a positive choice for a lot of people, but there are many people with schizophrenia who have asked me and confided in me about their hope to partner up, get married, and share their life with another person.

When a society constantly shows people like us as defeated, broken, or in the worst case scenario as monsters, it is hard not to internalize negative messages about yourself. I have heard people of color talk about their own internalized racism. Why would people with schizophrenia, the most stigmatized of the mental illnesses, be any different than people of color when it comes to internalizing the messages we see, hear, and experience every day? We aren’t different; we do the same thing.

I’m here to tell you that hopes and dreams do come true. Schizophrenia doesn’t have to equal loneliness.  Having a severe mental illness doesn’t mean that other people get all the good stuff and there is nothing left for us. Schizophrenia doesn’t mean we are the messages society tells about us. We all know better. We are more. We are talented. We are lovers. We are fighters. We have wisdom. We have humor.

After it all, we are human, and we are worthy of love, and I believe if we want love we have the same chance as anyone else of finding it. I don’t believe for us it is like finding a needle in a haystack, I believe love is out there weaving its magic tail, and we need to find the strings of it and hold on, and from those strings begin to tie together a life. Possibly the life we have always dreamed of, or even better.

I know how hard it is to believe that your soul mate or the love of your life will come along. For me, the love of my life grew out of a long relationship. When I first met JC, he was the type that was a neatnik, and I was a slob. I had a dozen dirty coffee cups in my car, and while I was at work, he would clean out the car, wash all the cups, and leave them in the dish dryer in the kitchen. He put things away, and I tossed them on a chair, the floor, or the bed. I thought we would never make it. But as soon as I got sick, we knew that bigger things than how neat or sloppy we each were at our doorstep.

An episode of psychosis is a wake-up call about what is important and what is superficial. We quickly got past the superficial and started focusing on the big stuff. And the big stuff can ironically be small stuff with big importance, like the little things we do to show our love like making each other coffee, a back or foot rub, and always being the one in the other’s corner, cheering.

I feel like I have a gift for you. It is possible that you already know about this gift, or have seen it. If you haven’t, please do yourself the favor of watching it. It is a romantic story with a character who has schizophrenia. In my mind, it is all of our stories. It is the story I want the world to see. It is a story I can accept. It is a story I can relate to and one that I would tell people to watch if they want to know more about schizophrenia (there are others, but this one, this one…yes, this one). It is free on Roku, and it stars a young Johnny Depp, the name of the film is Benny and Joon.

If Hollywood (one of the worst offenders of stereotypes) can give us a movie about us that makes my heart sing, there is hope. Of course, we know there is always hope for all things, especially love.

 

Schizophrenia is not a Pass

14 Wednesday Mar 2018

Posted by in caregivers, hope, mental illness, relationships, schizophrenia, Uncategorized

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Someone I care a lot about was recently visiting my home. It was obvious this person was in a bad mood and wanted to talk to anyone but me. When I would say something, I would get that look that says, “I want to tell you to shut up now!” The look was more like “!@#$ off!”

I’m thankful that I no longer need the approval or attention or appreciation of other people to make me feel okay about myself. I know now that people have moods, feel feelings, and express anger around me and it rarely has anything to do with me. Not to say that no one ever has reason to be mad at me but in most situations, the person’s reaction to me has more to say about them, and what they are feeling about themselves or another situation than it does about me or something I have done. (Of course, it is always good to check in with people and ask them if you did something to hurt them, make them mad, etc.)

Knowing that I am not the center of the universe or the cause for all feeling in it, is a relief. Being able to separate myself from other people (boundaries) and know that I am not responsible for all the people in my life, and how they think and feel is a marvelous place to land (even if it did take me until middle age).  (Of course, if the person we were talking about were my husband, the whole scenario would be different. I am talking here about everyone I care about besides my husband.)

It is great not to personalize everything. Not taking everything personally is fantastic and makes life much more pleasant, and far less dramatic. There is something else hidden in the situation of people treating me as if I am an annoyance to them on occasion. If people treat me like they treat others, and that includes treating others shitty sometimes, it means that person sees me like they do everyone else.

I don’t think of that as a bad thing. For instance, if I was always treated with kindness and tenderness and patience by people who tend to be moody or short with other people, what would that say about how that person feels about me? It would say that person sees me as weaker, or fragile or in need of special attention.

Having schizophrenia is not a ticket to get a pass on bad behavior and in the same way, having schizophrenia is not a pass on having people treat you the same way they treat everyone else. If those of us who have a severe mental illness want to be treated equally, we need to take responsibility for our actions (like learning to say, “I’m sorry,” and accept the consequences for our behavior). It also means we will be on the receiving end of some messy emotions from other people.

I’ll take the good with the bad because the two of them together equal me as a part of a community of people, and that is a step toward normalcy and wellness.

What We Give, Say, and Do

28 Wednesday Feb 2018

Posted by in bipolar, caregivers, mental illness, relationships, schizophrenia, stigma, Uncategorized

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I had an experience on Monday that left me reeling. I’m not going to explain exactly what happened, but I will say that I felt ignored, pushed aside, and avoided. It was the first time I was meeting this group of people, and they were all aware that I have schizophrenia. I have never felt like having schizophrenia caused people to treat me differently, so this was a new situation for me.

It is clear when someone comments with something like wacko, sicko, psycho, etc. that they have ignorance and possibly intolerance about people with a mental illness. If someone ignores you or avoids you, it isn’t obvious why they are doing that. For example, I can’t say with one hundred percent certainty that people were avoiding me or pushing me aside because they didn’t want to interact, recognize, or give space to the person with schizophrenia.

I spoke to a coach/mentor friend of mine and told her the whole story, and she said she didn’t think it was intentional. I know her advice and her perspectives are good ones and healthy ones, but there is a nagging feeling in me that says, what I felt was real, and true, and valid. (Just to make a note she wasn’t trying to invalidate my feelings, she was trying to be objective).

Now that I am thinking about rejection, there was a time, on a psych ward, that the attendants made me feel less than. It was after I was admitted, late at night and I was in my room. The attendants were obviously going over my paperwork, and one of them said, “Did you see where she works and what she does?” Someone else answered, “Yes, she is a social worker for the State.” The first person replied, “I hope that doesn’t happen to us!”

At my job, during the day, I would have been these women’s equal, their coworker, or even someone with more authority than them, but while I was in bed, on a psych ward, I was someone they didn’t want to be. I was someone they hoped they would never become.

I am going to try to be more aware of people in social settings I find myself in. I am going to look for those people that hang on the fringes, that sit by themselves, that seem awkward, anxious, or scared. And if I know something about someone like that they are battling an illness, or have recently lost someone, or anything that can make other people feel uncomfortable talking to them, I am going to gravitate in their direction.

I know you have heard it a thousand times, I have heard it that many too, but it truly is the little things that make the difference. I am capable of small things, and let’s hope those small things I give, and that we all give, turn into the force that keeps others from feeling lost or alone.

No matter what, we all have the little things to give. Give them with wild abandon.

 

 

When the Bad News Turns Hopeful

02 Friday Feb 2018

Posted by in bipolar, caregivers, mental illness, relationships, schizophrenia, Uncategorized

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I have a picture on my desk of my husband and me in Paris. My husband’s hair was long and is standing on end because of the wind. He is wearing a black winter jacket, and I am wearing a pink one. We have our arms around each other, and we are smiling. I love this photograph taken almost thirteen years ago. It was taken at a time when we still thought I had bipolar disorder.

Our lives would change so much with the diagnosis of paranoid schizophrenia, and I’m not sure of all the reasons why. I never had issues with anxiety back then, and I certainly didn’t have to take medication to relieve it on a daily basis. In fact, I took a very small dose of an antipsychotic and that kept me relatively symptom-free for seven years.

Now, I take an antipsychotic and an anti-anxiety medication. My doses are higher, as well. I know that the symptoms of schizophrenia can change over time, and I am sure that is part of my issue, but I think the biggest part of my problem (except the added anxiety) is the way we lived with and dealt with my mental illness when we thought I had bipolar disorder.

This whole thing just occurred to me today, and I think I am right about some of it. The symptoms I know that have gotten worse as I’ve aged are anxiety, a lack of motivation, and the desire to isolate socially. I can’t deny or change that these things have become increasingly prevalent in my life and have impacted my quality of life. But those things alone are not enough to account for all the changes in my lifestyle since the picture in Paris was taken.

I think the actual diagnosis of paranoid schizophrenia has changed the way my husband and I live and responds and take care of my illness. The last time I was psychotic was so traumatic for both my husband and I that I think both of us would do anything not to go through a similar episode (it lasted six months and almost led to our divorce). I was on the verge of losing everything I care about during my last episode. It was not only frightening to be psychotic and eventually suicidal, the real world consequences (outside of my brain) were significant. I know my husband feels the same way. My last episode was heart-wrenching and terrifying for him as well, and like I said it lasted six months. Six months is a long time to deal with something painful and scary.

I haven’t talked to my doctor about it, but I will the next time I see him, but I am wondering if my husband and I have a form of PTSD caused by my last episode of psychosis. It may sound like an over-reach to call it PTSD, but I am serious. During my last psychotic episode, I left home. My husband was able to track me from my credit card but could never quite catch up to me. I eventually came home, and when I did, I thought I wanted to get a divorce. My husband believed that we were in the process of separating from one another. Then for the next six months, we lived together with me actively trying to untie our finances from one another and talking to God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit (I wasn’t praying, I heard voices).

It was after that last psychotic episode that I was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia. My husband and I didn’t know any more than most people about what paranoid schizophrenia is, what it meant for me or us as a couple, the symptoms, etc. All we knew was that the doctor who diagnosed me considered it “bad news,” Because that is how she told me, “I have some bad news for you…”  And my husband and I have considered it “bad news” ever since. Not the worst news, not horrible news, but bad news.

So, considering the emotional trauma of those six months and the way the doctor presented my new diagnosis to me, is it any wonder that my husband and I go to great lengths to keep me from having another break? No. It is no surprise. The thought of another break is terrifying to both of us and threatens the life we have built together. So, I think we have gone overboard on keeping me from feeling stress both emotional and physical.

In other words, I think I am stronger than either of us know. And this realization is going to change the way I live my life from this day forward.

 

 

Technology Diet? I Need A Scale for That.

29 Monday Jan 2018

Posted by in mental illness, relationships, schizophrenia, Uncategorized

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Yesterday it was eighty-one degrees in San Diego. We went to the bay side of Coronado and walked along the waterfront. It was like summer. People were riding bikes, eating ice cream, walking dogs, pushing children in strollers, eating on restaurant’s patios, and listening to the music of a live band. The whole scene had a festival-type atmosphere.

I haven’t been out for a while because of a pinched nerve in my back, and because I tend to isolate socially, but it was wonderful to be out among people who weren’t checking their phones, or clicking away on laptops or tablets. People were outside, enjoying the beautiful weather and enjoying activities together. It felt like another world.

I realized something about myself. I like to talk to strangers. I asked everyone who had an English Bulldog, ( one couple, and one family) the name of their dog if they had health problems and other questions. I told the barista at the coffee stand that I loved her eye makeup, and she told me she had watched hundreds of YouTube videos to learn how to achieve that look. Jokingly, I asked her if she would come to my house and do my eyes, and she said, “Yes, of course!”

After we had returned home from the bay, we had dinner and then decided to go to the grocery store to shop for our weekly groceries. I had a summer dress on and with the sun already down it was starting to get cool, so I threw a sweatshirt over my dress and put on some pants underneath. I looked very disheveled. At the store, one of the clerks and I started up a conversation, and I asked him how he liked my clothing ensemble. I told him I called it my, “I am going to the grocery store on a Sunday night and why not put everything in the closet on.” We both laughed, and he told me no one would notice. It’s true we shop in a pretty rough area, so maybe nobody did pay any attention to the woman with several outfits on.

I was so surprised how much I liked talking to strangers. I especially love getting them to laugh or smile. Even though San Diego is supposed to have the highest rate of road rage; it seems like people are friendly when you meet them in person. I have spent so much time on social media, and away from face-to-face interactions, I didn’t realize how much more civil and delightful people are in person.

To keep perspective on humanity, I need to commit to seeing people more. It may be difficult to force myself out of the house when I have active symptoms, but it is so necessary for my head and heart.

Spending too much time in the world of technology (social media) got under my skin. Getting outdoors, in summer-like weather, when people want to laugh and enjoy themselves is like a balm for the soul. I forgot about politics, angry tweets, and name-calling. I forgot about the polarization of our country and how easy it is to bash one another in a faceless land (social media).

I like it outside where good hearts show up in every direction. I’ve heard of technology fasting and technology diets. I think they are as critical to good health as eating vegetables.

Schizophrenia: Writing and Writers

26 Friday Jan 2018

Posted by in caregivers, hope, mental illness, relationships, schizophrenia, Uncategorized

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I haven’t had to use the app that blocks social media this week. I have been productive most days and able to curb my addiction. I need social media for my writing so I can network and find out about publishing opportunities, but the way I was using it was not useful. In fact, I think it was harming me. I wrote about it a couple of days ago and mentioned all the negativity and fighting, public shaming, call out culture, etc. that was making me angry. Anyway, I’ve made progress, and for that, I am thankful and happy.

I pitched four essays/articles this week (wish me luck that a couple of them will be assigned/accepted). I found a new idea for brainstorming articles and essays that was a breakthrough in thinking for me, and I read way more articles and essays so that I can improve my writing (Every writer I know says to be a better writer you need to read more).

I like to promote the work of fellow writers. I especially like to promote the work of people living with schizophrenia. So, here are a few writers that I follow, that write about the experience of living with schizophrenia. I don’t agree with everything they say, but I respect all of them. I assume they wouldn’t agree with everything I say either, and that is not a negative thing.

Most of them are much younger than me, and I find that interesting. I hope you will check out these writers and their work.

Bethany Yeiser

Allie Burke

Mike Hedrick

 

Schizophrenia and Establishing Relationships

24 Wednesday Jan 2018

Posted by in bipolar, hope, relationships, schizophrenia, stigma, Uncategorized

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I have read many blogs and books by people with schizophrenia, and many of the writers express a desire to date and eventually get married. Unlike me, there are many people with schizophrenia who live in hiding (not disclosing their illness for fear of the consequences), and many of those people are married. I assume their spouses must know of their illness even if most people in their lives don’t.

On the other hand, I am open about my schizophrenia, and I am married, but it may not be like someone would assume. I was married early in my twenties and divorced before my first psychotic break. I don’t think my first husband would have stayed with me and worked with me if he had experienced my illness. (I say this not knowing for certain because he never had that opportunity, chance, test, whatever it is someone would call it).

I met my second husband after my first psychotic break, but at that time my diagnosis was bipolar disorder. If we had both known at the time that my true illness was paranoid schizophrenia, would we have made it to our wedding? I don’t know. I can’t say. I wasn’t diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia until I was in my early forties. By the time I had the correct diagnosis my husband, and I had been together for at least ten years.

During ten years of marriage, my husband had grown to know a lot about me. The diagnosis of schizophrenia came as a shock to us, and I suppose it could have caused some people to throw their relationship away, but not us. When I received my diagnosis, I had just started to recover from a six-month episode of psychosis. Our marriage was on wobbly ground during that period. I thought during that time that I wanted a divorce. My husband thought that is where we would end up – in front of a judge with a no-fault divorce.

Once I was on medication and started to return to my old self, my husband started to heal from the injuries I caused him during my psychosis, and he started to understand the difference between schizophrenia and me. I am one person when I am on the right medication and someone quite different when I slip into psychosis. This period is where I find my husband to be remarkable. Not while we were dating and thought I had bipolar disorder, but when he had lived with me as someone who was psychotic for six-moths and received no love, or understanding, or connection from me, and then, when I recovered, he stayed and helped me rebuild my life.

Even though my husband and I had a whole history together before discovering I had schizophrenia, I think it is possible for people to find a lifelong partner if they already know that they have schizophrenia before meeting their potential mate. I think having the opportunity to get to know each other is the critical step in the process. Two people need to have some feelings and history together to be able to navigate and process a diagnosis of severe mental illness.

I think the same is true for making new friends. If those of us with schizophrenia let people get to know us a little bit before we tell them our diagnosis, then they will have already developed their impression of us, and first impressions are powerful. Many people meet me, and they know about my schizophrenia before even shaking my hand because other people have told them and many saw an article about me in People Magazine a couple of years ago.

I would prefer that people get to know me before they know my diagnosis, but I don’t always have control of that. I think if you do have control over when and where to tell someone about your illness that it is beneficial to wait until they see who and how you are so that stereotypes and stigma don’t overpower their decision to stay in a relationship.

Everything that is possible for people without schizophrenia is possible for people with schizophrenia we just have to be more creative to make some things work.

 

Stigma, it Gets in Our Hearts and in Our Heads

17 Wednesday Jan 2018

Posted by in bipolar, mental illness, relationships, schizophrenia, stigma, Uncategorized

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The worst thing I have seen when it comes to the treatment of the mentally ill was the video of the Fullerton police beating Kelly Thomas on July 10, 2011. I am not going to post the video here. It is so violent and so disturbing it could cause some people emotional distress to watch it. Kelly had schizophrenia, and the beating resulted in his death.

Last week we had the video (again, I’m not going to post it although it is not violent, but upsetting) of the woman with bipolar disorder left outside of a Baltimore hospital with a hospital gown on in freezing weather. Articles came out discussing the lack of humanity in healthcare.

But who is it that the police and the healthcare system get caught on camera mistreating? The majority of the time, it is someone with a mental illness. Why is it so hard to see our humanity? Why once again are we reading about hospitals “dumping” the mentally ill off at bus stations with a one-way ticket? When those people “dumped” get to their destination, they have no contacts, no family, no way to get the medication and treatment they need. If I were in that situation, I would be as vulnerable as a lost child in an unknown city. Why can’t people say to themselves, “what if this were my mom, aunt, dad, uncle, cousin, sister, brother?”

Why is it so hard for some people to feel compassion and empathy for the mentally ill?

I recently read a study put out in 2008 by the Canadian Medical Association that found that one in four Canadians are fearful of being around someone with a serious mental illness. I saw another study (Canadian) circulating on Facebook (I can’t find it now, so I won’t be able to quote it exactly) that claimed a high percentage of people wouldn’t be friends with someone with a severe mental illness.

I have to ask myself what is serious and what is severe? I frequently read from parents who have a child with schizophrenia that it is “every parent’s nightmare.” I also frequently read that it is the most “dreaded diagnosis.”

How am I supposed to keep my head up or fight the urge to isolate or my lack of motivation (both symptoms of schizophrenia) if people aren’t going to see me as a valuable member of society or as their friend, or even as a fellow human with wants, dreams, desires, etc.?

Sure, you can tell me, it is getting better, those studies were conducted a decade ago, but is it? If those needing treatment the most are “dumped” at bus stations so that they can become “someone else’s problem.” Is that better?

I know, you can tell me, “You are different, Rebecca. You are married. You have a family. You have friends.” But it is precisely those things that I have (a support network) that keep me from being issued one of those bus tickets.

I never want to be a passenger on a bus to a city I don’t know. I never want to be in that bus seat as that passenger, but in a way, I travel with all of those victims because it is our diagnosis that others are responding to and I have that “dreaded diagnosis,” too.

Stigma, it gets in our hearts and in our heads.