Tag Archives: cars

It Could Have Been Anyone’s Day (not related to schizophrenia)

18 Sunday Oct 2015

Posted by in hope, mental illness, schizophrenia

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There are times when I am great at keeping perspective, and there are other times when I lose all sense of what matters and what is important in a brain fog or in the tunnel vision of anger.

All last week, I was dealing with the car dealership where we bought our new car (Honda Civic 2012, 30,000 miles). For my husband and me, this car is a beauty. We are used to buying cars that are five to six years old and keeping them for ten to twelve years. Well, we bought this car that is new for us, under warranty. It is a certified pre-owned vehicle. Last week my husband was driving it and when he hit the brakes he heard metal on metal. He drove it to the nearest dealership (not the one we bought it at).

The dealership where we bought it wanted to see the problem, so they had it towed to their dealership which is far from our house. Several days without a car and many phone calls later, we have an all new brake system (I would name the parts here, but I am not very knowledgeable about cars or their working parts). Let’s just say that metal on metal sound was real and ruined several pieces.

Yesterday morning, we had a friend drive us out of the city to a neighboring town to pick up our car. The man who did the service thanked us for being so reasonable and not going “sideways” on him (as he called it).

We felt good. We handled it with reason, kindness and patience.

Later in the day, I received two packages, both from online shops.  I was expecting these retro corduroy pants with a patchwork pattern on them from one shop. I received three cheap t-shirts (maybe worth a buck each at a thrift store). I had used a gift certificate I received from my mom to buy the pants and they cost $76 with shipping. I received $3 worth of merchandise that I didn’t order and I didn’t want.  I felt ripped off. I felt pissed off. I sent the seller three letters in rapid succession. I asked her what the junk was. I wasn’t very nice.

The second package I received was a pair of black pants that were supposed to be a designer pair of leggings. The black pants were total junk and full of white cat or dog hair. I again sent off three e-mails in rapid succession.

I don’t know why the major issue of our car that went on for days, did not raise my blood pressure or irritation level but two purchases of clothes on the Internet gone horribly wrong, sent me to a place of snarky, sarcastic, and mean responses.

I am not proud that I was unable to deal with all three interactions with a level head. I feel disappointed in myself for that.  After all, is getting some ugly, dirty clothing really a big deal in the overall scheme of things? No. It isn’t.  It is quite possibly hysterical. I feel a grin coming on as I type this…trash by mail – trash that came by mail that I actually paid good money for.  It is rather humorous.

I write this simply as a reminder that we all have a breaking point for courtesy. We all have a breaking point for kindness. I hit mine today, because it had been building all week.

When I hear back from the two places that messed up my orders (or ripped me off – not sure the true situation yet), I will have taken a breath and regained my calm.

If you run into a grumpy person today, or if someone snaps at you, try to think of me instead of taking it personally.

I don’t wish anyone harm, and I don’t wish to hurt any feelings. Bad days build up for us like blocks of stress stacked one on top of the other. It is possible someone may just be at that place when the blocks are falling – duck, cover your head, and don’t let that person or incident become a building block of stress for you.

A Tough day in the Life: Living with Schizophrenia

20 Thursday Aug 2015

Posted by in bipolar, mental illness, schizophrenia, stigma

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Yesterday I was exhausted. I was so tired and beat.

I wrote a letter to Cosmopolitan about this article. 

The article is about a woman who has bipolar disorder and she has a psychotic episode and walks herself and her niece and nephew into on-coming traffic. They all die. The mother of the two children that died was the mentally ill woman’s twin sister. The article says the mother of the children has forgiven her sister and has started an advocacy organization to raise awareness about mental illness. The article uses a sensational headline, and of course, the mentally ill woman in the story committed a murder/suicide.

I pointed out the stereotypes in the article, the sensational title, and asked Cosmo if they really wanted to contribute to the stigma already surrounding mental illness. I also asked them to do a fair and balanced story of someone living successfully with a severe mental illness.  Who knows who will read my letter, and if they consider what I wrote.

I also heard from that writing organization I wrote about a couple of weeks ago that I said discriminated against me (I had to take the post down due to paranoia, otherwise I would link to it here). The woman who called was very sweet and sincere and told me all of the people she works with felt awful about what had transpired with me and my application for a mentor. She told me the program was set up to reach people who normally are under-represented and don’t have a voice. Of course I explained that people with a severe mental illness are one of the most marginalized groups in the country.  We spoke for a long time. She listened to me. She heard me, and I told her she was brave and courageous to call me not knowing what kind of response she was going to receive from me.  I really appreciated the call. I felt validated. I felt included. I felt I had spoken my truth and been heard. I was weepy on the call and all day long. I am still a little bit weepy.

Then I had to take care of a household situation. I may not be good at housework, and I may not be good at cooking, but in my house if something comes up with a medical bill, insurance, credit card fraud (it has happened to us five or six times in the past two to three years), or anything like that, I am the one who handles it.

Well, the car we just bought had a rattle. We took it to a Honda dealer and they said it had been in an accident. This wasn’t disclosed to us when we purchased it. I spent most of the day on the phone with people trying to figure out how to handle this situation. I called attorneys, I called the corporate office of Honda, and I called the dealership where we bought it. Because of the possibility of severe paranoia, I did not want to hire an attorney. I finally found a way to resolve the issue directly with the dealership. They said they will inspect the car again and if they made an error, they will make it right with us. The calls and fact gathering took a good part of my day. It was draining to be continually weighing the consequences of a deep and long lasting bout of paranoia if the situation got confrontational or hostile.  Thankfully, I think it is going to be resolved in the most positive way possible – directly between the two parties involved – us and the dealership.

Lastly, over a week ago we had a heat wave and moved a mattress from the spare room into the living room so we could sleep near the air conditioner. The weather has cooled down, but I am having so much fun sleeping in the living room. It is like a camping trip. Last night, after all that had gone on during my day, my husband didn’t have the heart to move us back into the bedroom.

I slept in the living room again last night and my husband made me popcorn to eat while I was curled up in front of the television. Then he told me, “There are times when I think you are twelve.” And we both laughed, because the child in me is so alive and so present even after one of the toughest days I have had in my recent memory.

It is hard to know your limitations when you are mentally ill – the limits that keep you from crossing the line in your mind and losing touch with reality, but it is essential to try and find them, honor them, respect them, and live inside them.  And when you are successful at it, allow yourself to sleep in the living room and eat popcorn. Who cares if people think you act like a twelve year old? I can’t have my armor of protection on all the time – I need to be allowed to play so I have the energy for the next round.

I hope we sleep in the living room through the weekend.

Is that you, or Schizophrenia?

16 Thursday Jul 2015

Posted by in mental illness, schizophrenia

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After over ten years, we decided to sell our 1997 Honda Civic. We bought a 2012 Civic as our upgrade. My husband is the kind of person who keeps very good care of his vehicles and we drive them long and hard.

My husband put a for sale sign in the window of our old Civic and the next day a man who is working on a construction site across the street called to make an appointment to see it.  I had asked my husband to give it away to a service that sells cars and gives the majority of the sale price to your favorite charity. But my husband insisted we would be able to give more to our favorite charity if we sold it ourselves.

I didn’t want him to meet with strangers, drive with strangers, and be alone with strangers, because I have heard of several people who have been killed selling cars on Craigslist.

I was happy someone that worked across the street wanted to see the car before my husband put the ad up on Craigslist.

The night my husband was going to show the car, we talked on our cell phones to each other. I opened the window of our third floor condo and looked at my husband as he stood on the street. A man in a white truck pulled up. I said into my cell phone, “Is that him?” My husband asked the man a question, and then told me, “Gotta go.”

I stood in our window and mentally noted the way the man and the woman with him looked. She weighed 100-110 pounds. She had straight black hair pulled into a ponytail. She was less than 5 feet tall. He was wearing a muscleman white t-shirt and jeans that were baggy without a belt. He wore plastic sandals with socks. His hair was in a crew cut. They drove a newer model large white truck.

I made these notes, because I knew that these people were about to get in our car with my husband and drive off. And if anything happened I wanted to be able to give the best details I could to the police.

At one point both the man and woman looked up at me in the window. “Good,” I thought. “They know I am watching.”

The man took the driver’s seat of our car, and drove off, the woman stayed behind. I closed the window and went to my desk to check my e-mail.  Not too much time passed and my husband came running into the condo with the thumbs up sign. “You sold it? Does he have to go get the money?” I asked.

On his way out the door, my husband said, “No, he has the money with him.”

At dinner that night my husband asked, “Was it your illness or your personality that made you watch those people so closely?”

“I don’t know.”  I said, and then continued, “When I was in my early twenties, before I ever got sick, I trusted everyone. I would bring strangers home who I had met in the park, or on the ferry, or at a restaurant. I wasn’t afraid or suspicious back then.”

“Were you really scared?” He asked.

“No. I was just considering the possibilities and being cautious. If I was really scared, I would have been with you.” I said.

Old cars, new cars, old ways, new ways, this illness changes and morphs over time. Yes, I am paranoid every day. I guess it comes with the diagnosis, but when I’m not psychotic I can often keep the paranoia from causing me problems or being too disruptive in my life.

Maybe, in ten years, when we are ready to sell our new car, I will have to ride along in the car with my husband to reassure myself that he is safe. For now, I am comfortable at the window which is far from where I would have been ten years earlier – I wouldn’t have concerned myself at all.

Like time, the illness marches on. I only hope it doesn’t destroy all the best parts of me.