Tag Archives: dreams

A Dream to be Fearless

24 Friday Feb 2017

Posted by in mental illness, schizophrenia, Uncategorized, writing

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Suffering. I suffer. You suffer. We all suffer. An illness. A loss. Hunger. No shelter. Bombs. Loneliness.

I frequently say, “Why can’t suffering be doled out equally?” Like if you have a severe mental illness you don’t also get a chronic physical illness, or if you lose your child, you don’t also lose a spouse. The world doesn’t work that way, though. And you can’t equate the loss of a child, or war, or starvation to schizophrenia. Suffering is not equal.

My diagnosis of diverticulitis almost two weeks ago, made me momentarily think that I shouldn’t have to deal with physical illnesses and a severe mental illness, too. For a short period, I felt bitter and sorry for myself.

I don’t like feeling bitter, or sorry for myself. Bitterness and self-pity do not suit me or feel right for any length of time, but beyond these feelings is an even more destructive force: fear.

Feelings don’t just fly away. There are times when we need to work to get our feelings on track (I certainly don’t mean you can think your way out of a mental illness, only that you can think your way out of some feelings both negative and positive).

So, I need to find a way back. A way to put my troubles in perspective, lighten my mind, heart, and soul. What I want to be is fearless.

When I was in the emergency room at the hospital, anxiety overcame me. My pulse rate was well above 100. I have felt that same anxiousness since that time. I am hyper concerned about the diverticulitis acting up again and sending me back to the hospital. During this time, I have had back problems for two months. I can lay down and stand up, but I can’t sit. I even stand at restaurants to eat (we haven’t gone out much lately). I am standing while typing this.

But back to fearless. I don’t want to be anxious or afraid anymore. I want to develop a skin of steel. Going to the doctor and hospital terrifies me. I want to overcome that. I want to be strong and brave and courageous. I want to laugh in the doctor’s office and make them laugh, too. I want to whistle no matter what the diagnosis or outcome. I don’t want to be afraid. I don’t want to be concerned.

Concern, anxiety, fear and worry have taken over my life these last two months. I have stopped doing the things that bring me joy because I feel an ache here and pain there and the worry begins. I am concerned by every bite of food I put in my mouth, thinking it may cause another infection in my intestines. I fear sitting down because it can cause my back to hurt for hours or even days.

I know it will take small steps to get me back to the laughter I so frequently enjoy. I know it will take time removed from these illnesses and pains to help my mind heal from their impact. I know all of this, and yet, today, I am going to get out of the house, experience a little living, get on with things.

Today, I step out, slowly, surely, and purposefully. I am re-entering the world. I miss my joy, and I want it back. I may never be completely fearless like I dream and desire, but I’m moving toward that goal – one toe out front – the rest of me is not far behind.

Having Schizophrenia Doesn’t Mean the Stars are out of Reach

25 Tuesday Oct 2016

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

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The last two nights while we were eating dinner, my husband and I did some “couple’s exercises” just for fun. One of the things we were asked to do was tell each other our whole life story in four minutes. My husband started. He said he came from a traditional Catholic home in Lebanon. He talked about the stability of his life up until the war broke out when he was ten. He went on to talk about boarding schools and the American high school he went to in Cairo. He spoke about college in the United States and moving to Southern California. He went on to meeting me, getting married and ended with the present day.

When it was my turn, I talked about one of the things I love most about my life and that is spending the first eleven years in a small town in a blue collar environment and then when my mother remarried starting to travel and see the world. Having both of these vastly different experiences has made it possible for me to relate to the working class and also the more privileged.  Spending time living in Egypt helped me to understand different parts of the world and to look at American culture from the outside. I also talked about my first marriage and divorce, and then meeting the love of my life my husband/partner and up to the current day.

As soon as I was finished telling my condensed version of my life story, it occurred to me that I never mentioned schizophrenia. I said to my husband, “I never once mentioned my illness. It never came up in my story.”  Surprised, he said, “I didn’t mention it either.”

Even though we live each day around schizophrenia; we schedule our meals around medications, try to limit my stress, make sure I get enough sleep, deal with my symptoms when they are present and one hundred other life-disrupting things, none of that seems to matter in our bigger life story.

I find the fact that neither one of us thought to bring up schizophrenia in our brief telling of our history as an encouraging and hopeful truth. My illness isn’t what is important or significant or memorable about our lives. Even though we manage it in as responsible of a way as possible, it doesn’t run or rule our lives the way I thought it did. It is an afterthought to the things we find important.

I think my husband and I have truly found a balance with living with a severe mental illness. On the one hand, we do everything possible to limit the negative impact of that illness on our lives which means sticking to routines and making many choices about travel, events, etc. On the other hand, none of those choices and sacrifices is what we focus on when we are considering our whole life; the precautions we take and hours we spend trying to get me through a tough patch of symptoms doesn’t even warrant a mention in the telling of the story of our life.

I have always said that my life is more than schizophrenia and I have proved to myself that I  believe that and behave in a way that makes that statement true. Those of us with a severe mental illness must create a life that reaches beyond our diagnosis – we need to stretch up and out and cultivate experiences that have nothing to do with our illnesses. Let’s do what exceptional people all over the world do, let’s reach for the stars and even if we never touch them think of all the benefits we will gain from trying. Tonight’s sky will be full of stars, let’s all look up at them when it turns dark and dream our most creative dreams and then let’s take the first step to making those dreams happen. If we do this, we will be one step closer to touching a star and that step can be the one that puts us within reach.

 

My First Literary Essay (not about schizophrenia)

22 Friday Jul 2016

Posted by in articles I wrote, mental illness, schizophrenia, Uncategorized, writing

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If you have been following me for a while you will know that I have been trying to break out of mental health writing. Don’t get me wrong, I love mental health writing and all the positive things it can do by educating, raising awareness and saving lives. I love that stuff, but I have always wanted to be a writer. Just that, a writer. Not a woman with schizophrenia that writes.  Please read my latest essay on Angels Flight literary west. It is about death, David Bowie, and how we mourn our losses.  The title is The Extraordinary Ordinary Death.    I hope you will read it and share it.  It looks like I have made it to the title of, writer. I also have schizophrenia and will always write about that, but today, I am celebrating being an artist among other artists – disability or not.

Thoughts For The Day

06 Sunday Mar 2016

Posted by in Uncategorized, writing

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I am thinking about a couple of things today.

Physical health:

I am sick and when I am sick it is hard to focus on anything but the feeling of being sick. On days like this, it is easy to feel grateful for all the days that may not go the way you wanted them to but at least you were or are physically well.

 

Relationships:

It is easy to take people who you see every day for granted. It is easy to assume they will always be there and always feel the same way about you as they do today. Last night for the first time in my almost eighteen years of marriage it occurred to me that it is possible for my husband to fall out of love with me. Many times I have thought about the possibility of something happening to him, but this was the first time I thought that maybe there would be a time when he would discover that he wanted to be alone or with someone else.  The thought of it broke my heart, but it did something else, too. It made me realize to pay close attention to the things my husband says, to listen when he talks, to care about the things he cares about, and to try and create long-term dreams together that we can both see ourselves in the future together.

My thoughts are not new or original, but something to think about on a Sunday afternoon that might give you an idea that makes you feel more gratitude, create more dreams, or be more loving and attentive to the people in your life.  These things are all good to consider this day or any other.

Inspiration From Supercross

21 Sunday Feb 2016

Posted by in hope, Uncategorized, writing

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My nephew is twenty-three-years-old and living his passion and following his dream.

When he came to San Diego just over a week ago, he wrecked his dirt bike and ended up in the emergency room. The very next week he drove from California to Texas, got back on his bike and did better than the week before.

It is true that he holds the world record for a dirt to dirt jump, but at other times, his body has been bruised, broken, and hurting. He gets back up, though. He travels long distances to try again. He commits his time, his money and his talent to being the best rider he can be.

I love that spirit.

I had a minor meltdown the other day. I ended up crying that I couldn’t keep up my current schedule (two blogs, articles, essays, and other school work). I thought of my nephew, and all he does to live out his passion and try to make his dreams come true.

I don’t have the grit, the determination, or the physical strength of my nephew, but I can learn from the one thing he does over and over again – he wrecks that bike and gets back on to race.

I have to let something go, and for many reasons, what I am going to let go is school, but it is just a minor wreck. I’m hurt, but I’m getting back on the bike right now – typing these words.

I wish I was like my nephew and followed my dreams when I was young, but there is no guarantee I would have a trophy or first place race behind me now. I am fifty. I am slower and more cautious than when I was younger. I am less likely to risk it all and throw my whole self into the process. I am wiser now, though, and I need wisdom more than strength for my dream to come true.

I’m a bit roughed up today. It could be my ego that is hurt worst of all, realizing that my limitations are far more than I previously understood. I can push limits, though, and I’ll do my best to go as far as I can.

Both my nephew and I are moving toward dreams – he wants to be the fastest, and I want to make words sound like a symphony.

He needs to get back on the bike and ride, and I need to spend time forming sentences at my computer.

We are both going to get a little dirty, a little sore, but in the process, we’ll gain experience.

I hold that young man in my heart, and say under my breath like a mantra to us both, “Ride Alex, ride.”

Dust Off Your Dreams And Take The First Step

15 Friday Jan 2016

Posted by in hope, mental illness, schizophrenia, writing

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I bought a pair of boots on Etsy as one of my Christmas presents. I think they are fabulous. They are black cowboy boots and the artist who made them glued a purple lace flower on the tip of each boot. They have carnation pink lace, and one boot has a pink felt belt looped around it. They both have black, pink and white flower fabric on them.

The boots are on a shelf in the hallway by my front door. Every time I go out, I see them. I have only worn them once. They are gathering dust.

My boots are like dreams.

What colorful, creative, dreams do you have tucked on a shelf in your life? What passion, hope, joy is gathering dust in your life?

I started this blog ten months ago. I have written on it all but thirteen days. It hasn’t always been easy to come up with an idea, but I have worked hard and loved the process. Many times I told myself, “Just keep going.”

Yesterday, I was offered a job writing articles about schizophrenia for a mental health site. It is a part time job. It won’t pay the rent, but it will buy my coffee and help pay for my Internet and phone bills.

When I started ten months ago, I knew I wanted to be a writer. I knew there were certain magazines that I dreamed of having  publish my work. I knew I needed a paycheck. Since that time, I am 1/3 of the way through school. I have posted over 250 short essays on A Journey with You. I have posted 26 essays on Psych Central. I have had 8-10 essays published by The Mighty. I have three essays published in Role Reboot. I have one essay published in Manifest Station. I had three writers interview me for magazine articles (on Christmas Eve, my story was in People). I have written guest blogs, and essays for other mental health sites. I have had poetry and tributes published.

And then yesterday, I was offered money in exchange for articles.

Money isn’t the only reason I write. I write to bring understanding and hope to people who are touched by mental illness particularly schizophrenia. I write because I like to think of ideas and put them into sentences and try to form a coherent essay. I write because it heals me. I write because it helps me figure out who I am and my place in the world. I write to reach out to people and not feel so alone in this world. I write because it is a dream of mine to be a writer.

So, please go to the hallway of your heart and mind, pick out those colorful dream boots, dust them off and put those babies on. It has been said a million times, “If I can do it, you can too.” I have my boots on while I type this. And I am waiting for you. Your dreams are waiting too.

Come on, put your socks on and put your feet in and start walking toward your destiny. I’ll walk with you if you don’t mind me wearing the most colorful boots you’ve ever seen.

Getting Past Internalized Stigma

06 Wednesday Jan 2016

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

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I kept my illness a secret for almost twenty years. It is probably obvious to everyone who knows that I kept it a secret, that I have some internalized stigma. If I didn’t have internalized stigma, there would have been no reason to hide my illness all those years.

I felt embarrassment. I felt shame. I felt different. I felt broken. And then there are all the ways I felt people would treat me differently and how they would see me as “crazy.”

Over the past year, as I have become more open and public about my diagnosis, I have learned a lot. In fact, I continue to learn every day. I have learned about the issues involving the disability community, the issues, and policies regarding treatment of the people with mental illnesses, and most importantly I have learned a lot about myself.

I am no longer ashamed of my diagnosis. I don’t feel different or broken. I feel like I have used my illness to try and make schizophrenia more mainstream and less “creepy” “scary” and stereotypical. Everyone who is reading my blog or the dozens of websites I have written for knows that not everyone with schizophrenia is on the street or in the hospital. I hope people also know that although schizophrenia is serious and can be debilitating, many people living with the illness are leading average or “normal” lives.

I have used my diagnosis and the personal knowledge I have of it to try and make people more aware and accepting of an illness that has been, and continues to be, wildly misunderstood.

I am the woman next door. I am the woman in the grocery store. I am the woman in the park. I am the woman waiting at the doctor’s office.

I frequently point out that I am a wife, a daughter, a sister, a friend, and an aunt.

And it is that last title that recently grabbed ahold of what was left of my internalized stigma and tried to chase it away. After twenty years of fear, shame and embarrassment, I have opened up my life to the world and that opening up also included people I have loved and cared about for years.

The other day my niece, who is eighteen, told me she looked up to me more than I would ever know.

The woman who was too ashamed to tell people that she had a chronic mental illness has a niece, who is young, smart, and beautiful that looks up to her.

Internalized stigma gripped my life and kept me down for over twenty years, but as I’ve started to overcome it, I have to begin to internalize other things. Someone very special looks up to me and instead of hiding that for twenty years, I am going to show it off to the world in any way that I can. I’m losing the negative and embracing the positive.

I never dreamed of being an example of a strong woman. I never dreamed that I would write daily about schizophrenia. I never dreamed that living openly and honestly would bring about healing and strength. There is so much I never dreamed of because of stigma, stereotypes, and shame. I have a completely different life than a year ago and to be honest with you, I love it. I have schizophrenia, but it doesn’t have me.

Daring To Dream

04 Monday Jan 2016

Posted by in bipolar, hope, mental illness, schizophrenia, writing

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I’m ready to work. I am 1/3 of the way through my writing certificate at UCLA, and I think it is time to start earning a paycheck. I have to be careful, though. I don’t want to set myself up for failure. I can’t work full time anymore. I need to start with part time. I have applied for about twenty freelance writing jobs, but other people out-bid me (I am not going to write a blog post for $5. That is outrageous considering coming up with an idea, research, and then writing).

I have one interview with a company, and the job is to write two articles for them every week. If I could get two jobs like that, it would be perfect. I also applied to work at a thrift store part time. (Once when I was recovering from a psychotic episode, I went to work at a thrift store and loved it.) I recently went for an interview for the thrift store job. They called my references. I received a call back for a second interview. I’m not going to go to the second interview. I realized I can’t do it. I think I could handle it if it were two to three days a week, but the woman who interviewed me said it could be four to five hours a day five days a week. There is no way I can do that. I don’t think I would last a month.

It is going to take a lot of work on my part, but I need to work from home. My social anxiety, fatigue from medication and symptoms of paranoia are going to make it difficult, if not impossible, to work five days a week. It is painful to realize that I have gotten worse over the years. I used to be able to do more. I am far more aware of my limitations now, though. In the past, taking a job, and leaving it after six months didn’t bother me. Now, I don’t want to do that. I want to succeed.

There is a part of me that is sad that I am aware that I can’t work in a thrift store anymore, but there is a part of me that is amazed at my strength, and determination to find a profession where I can be successful. I could have just given up after my last job, but I have worked almost every day of the past year trying to become better at writing, going to school and workshops, and building up my portfolio. I am in school, blog almost every day on this site, blog bi-weekly at Psych Central, blog at-will on The Mighty (I have nine articles/essays up there) and I write at-will for a site called She Knows. I have also published three articles on Role Reboot and been a guest blogger on many sites.

Many vocational training programs take two years. I have been working toward a career in writing on a regular basis for one year. I think at the two-year mark I will be writing and making a paycheck.

When I started this blog, not only did I do it to practice my writing, I wanted people to know that people with schizophrenia aren’t all that different from anyone with a chronic illness.

I haven’t wanted very much in my life. I haven’t had too many hopes or dreams. I have two dreams now, though, and I want them more than anything I can remember. I want to be a writer with a paycheck, and I want everyone to know people with schizophrenia are capable of having a dream, and taking the steps to make it come true. I’m not all the way there yet, but I hope you see my dreams taking shape. I’m going to make it. I know I am going to make it.

5 Ways To Keep Your New Year’s Resolutions

06 Sunday Dec 2015

Posted by in hope, Uncategorized, writing

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My husband and I don’t go to Vegas, book tickets on a cruise, or head for the tropics to celebrate New Year’s. We don’t go to a fancy party, or drink champagne. I am usually in bed by nine and my husband gently wakes me up at midnight to give me a kiss and wish me a joyous, successful, healthy, and happy new year.

Although we don’t ring in the New Year with a fancy party, for several hours before midnight we bring out the list of the resolutions we made the past year, and create a new list for the year we are ringing in. Last night we got out the list for 2015 in preparation, and we were both surprised. This is the first time in seventeen years that we accomplished over half of the items on our list.

Here are the five things you can do to help keep your resolutions in 2016.

  1. List specific goals not resolutions. Instead of writing, “Go to the gym more.” Try writing things like, “I will take a walk three times a week.”
  1. List details about your goals or the steps necessary to make them happen. One of our goals was to publish a book of poetry that included all of the poets in a workshop I attended. We wrote down three steps to make that happen. The first one was to ask all the poets for three poems. The second was to format the book. The third was to find a publisher. I am happy to report that the book, Sunday’s at Liberty Station was published by my husband and me in 2015.
  1. Keep the list in plain sight. In previous years, we made the list and then put it in a pile of papers somewhere and forgot about it until New Year’s Eve. This year, we kept the list in plain sight. We frequently referred to it, checked it, and crossed off the goals we had accomplished. One of the things we completed in 2015, because we reminded ourselves by checking the list, was to consolidate our finances. Just like the poetry book, we had several steps to take to make that happen, and as we accomplished the steps, we checked them off.
  1. Make it an active part of your life. By keeping the list in plain sight and checking off the steps you have accomplished, your resolutions (goals) become more like your yearly to-do list and less like a vague list of wishes you hope somehow to accomplish.
  1. Make the list team work. If you have a partner, this step is easier, but if not ask a friend or a relative to go over your list with you. Let them know what you hope to accomplish. Make them a buddy in your resolutions (goals) and ask them to help hold you accountable.

As you accomplish all of your resolutions (goals) in 2016, don’t forget to celebrate. Those small celebrations throughout the year can make up for dozing off before midnight on New Year’s Eve.

The Joy Robbers

01 Tuesday Dec 2015

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

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I often write about the struggle I have between wanting to be treated like everyone else, and wanting people to make accommodations for me, because I have a mental illness.

Most of the time, I want to be treated like everyone else. I don’t want any special treatment, help, or attention, because I am mentally ill. I think I function at my highest level when people treat me like they treat everyone else. I think this is why I have fewer symptoms around my family, because they definitely don’t give me special treatment. They expect me to participate at the level that anyone would – do chores, entertain guests, be polite, be aware of other people’s needs, etc. I don’t get cut any slack for having schizophrenia. I may get cut some slack for being the only sister in a team-sized group of brothers, but that is about it (well, that and the fact that I am frequently paranoid and people do have to respond to my fears occasionally, or deal with irregular sleeping patterns). But overall, I am treated like a full functioning member of my family. I think that is great.

What I don’t understand, and don’t think is great is when people are in competition with me, or envy me, and treat me poorly because of that envy or competitive spirit. I think that I have a great life, and I constantly am thankful and grateful for that, but seriously, I have schizophrenia. Schizophrenia is not a death sentence. It doesn’t have to define me. It doesn’t have to keep me from achieving my dreams, but having schizophrenia is tough. It isn’t just tough when you get admitted to a psych ward it is tough most days of the week. Being psychotic is the most terrifying thing I can imagine. Being suicidal is a risk to your life.

Why then, would anyone be in competition with me, or envy me? I do not understand people like that.  Even if I get something published, or get to go on a cool trip, or have a more supportive partner, or whatever it is they decide I have that they want, or want to be better at, the fact is, I still have schizophrenia. In those cases, I wish people would treat me differently. I dislike competition and the way envy makes people act. Having people in competition with me makes me feel bad, and most people who are envious treat the people they envy like dirt. I have a difficult enough time dealing with my symptoms without dealing with people who are insecure, or want what others have, or have to be the best at something.

I am not in high school. I do not like drama, and I do not like mean spiritedness. What I think people who are in competition with others, and envy others, lack is self-confidence, and when they have these feelings toward me, I feel that they lack the ability to reason. Why shouldn’t I have some great things happen in my life? I have been through hell with an illness that is terrifying, disabling, requires medication that causes other illnesses, etc. What I am saying here is, yes, my life is great, but it isn’t all green grass and lush pastures. There are definitely some dirt patches where the grass has died. I just don’t focus on that. If I focused on the dirt life would be bleak and I would lose my joy.

I know that would make those who want to see me fail, or who want what I have very happy, but I’m not going to lose my joy. It is my secret weapon against having schizophrenia, and it is almost like a super power. I’m not giving up or giving in. I’m going to win and those who hate that are just going to have to hate that – I’m not going to curl up and stop trying because someone is in competition or envious of a woman who has schizophrenia. See how ridiculous that sounds? It sounds that way, because it is.