Tag Archives: love

The Miracle of a Day

25 Sunday Oct 2020

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All-day, it continues. Little blessings like a cool breeze coming through the open window. The light as it shines and brightens the whole room. I enjoy the fresh banana and nonfat yogurt with a cup of tea. The guided journals are encouraging gratitude, gratitude, gratitude. I receive a kiss from my husband, a soft word, some days a love note placed in the red mailbox we bought in the dollar section at Target.

All-day, it continues. A phone call to my parents still alive and doing well even with chronic conditions like Parkinson’s and leukemia. A snack of hummus and pita bread or Ritz crackers out of the box.

All-day, it continues an e-mail from a student saying, “Thank you.” A paycheck from a class I taught arrives in the mail. A text from one of my brothers or a friend. Plans to share a brunch date over Zoom to celebrate a friend’s birthday.

All-day, it continues. The smell of a tree with white flowers blooming just outside my window. A swarm of bees pollinating the plants. A dog barking as its owner plays fetch with it on the grass patch across the street.

All-day, it continues. My favorite pair of sweatpants and a worn-out t-shirt with soft cotton plush socks. A poem that I think is profound or beautiful or both. A photograph on Instagram of trees turning orange, red, yellow. The air pollution calculator is on green indicating the quality is good today.

All-day, it continues. Something sweet like oatmeal and chocolate chip cookies or a piece of dark chocolate with mint. My husband’s and my guilty pleasure of Red Vines while watching our favorite comedy series.

All-day, it continues. These little blessings. One pound less on the scale, making my BMI in the normal category. The sight of my toenails painted pink. My husband puts my hair up in rag curls. I finish a workout on the stationary bike. I stretch my body for thirty minutes easing some of the aches and pains.

All-day, it continues. I smell bread baking or the scent of a vanilla candle. I feel fabrics so soft on my skin or the touch of my husband. I see the bay out of the dining room window. I hear music from Pandora or YouTube. I taste fresh food like watermelon, apples, or beets.

All-day, it continues these little blessings that spring up everywhere along with each breath making me want to reach up and grab ahold of the sky.

Thanksgiving Post with a Twist

20 Tuesday Nov 2018

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

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I keep a gratitude list most days of the week, and there is nothing on any of my lists that you would find remarkable or surprising. As someone who has chronic paranoid schizophrenia not being psychotic and having a loving partner are reasons for intense and radical gratitude every day, along with the ability to appreciate and participate in what most people would find mundane.

So, this year my Thanksgiving post is not about me, but about you. It is not about giving thanks, but holding space for hope. As someone who frequently feels voiceless and on the outside of every community I try to fit in and belong to, I hope you find acceptance because acceptance can be a deep and sacred desire. I hope it for you.

I hope that no matter how violent, infuriating, discouraging, and stress-inducing the news is that you can find time to turn it off and enjoy reading, writing, watching a movie, having coffee or a conversation with a friend. I hope you make time for yourself and the pleasures in life despite the 24/7 cycle of bad news.

I hope that you have someone, near or far, that you can be your authentic self with. Someone who can see you in trying times, the best times, the worst times, your highs, your lows and everything in between.

I hope that this year you will make a new friend, learn a new skill, get a new job, publish an essay, sell a photograph or anything else that would fill your heart with joy.

Most of all, I hope you have love. I hope that you give it and receive it. I hope that you bask in its power and wake to its glory. I hope that it surrounds you day and night and that you never, not once, forget that it exists in the universe and is free and open to us all.

Bridging the Divide

14 Thursday Jun 2018

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The past two years have been surreal. I feel like reality is fluid. Reality used to be full of hard facts, things we could easily prove. Now, people we are supposed to trust throw conspiracy theories and “alternative facts” around regularly. Our country is changing at such a dizzying speed, and much of it is shocking, and some of it is alarming. One thing is for sure, as a group, as citizens, as a nation we are divided, and those divisions are causing people to feel hostile and angry. It is as though everyone is on the verge of snapping.
I discovered something, possibly one of the few things I can do to bring generosity, kindness, concern, love, goodness, friendliness, and all the positive things we can feel between two people back and that is to go small. I thought about it during breakfast this morning.
My husband and I had breakfast at a local hotel.  When we arrived, the whole room was loud, and every table was full. People were cutting in the buffet line, talking on video conferencing, having to raise their voices to hear their table mates. We learned from our server that ninety people eating in the restaurant were a part of a tour group. The people on tour were on a time limit, so it is easy to understand why they were in a hurry, not waiting in line, etc. but the impact this had on the servers as this person and that person asked for water, or coffee was noticeable.
Every time our server went by, we asked if she was okay. We told her it looked very stressful. We thanked her for everything she brought us and said we hoped her day started to look up. It was evident that our concern for her was going a long way because she made sure to come back to our table frequently to ask if we needed anything, or wanted anything.
My husband and I said working at a buffet when a large group comes in must be very hard. We didn’t see a single person tip their servers. We know from being on tours that the head of the tour should leave a big tip for all the servers to share, but there is no guarantee that that is the custom everywhere.
We decided to leave our server a larger than usual (about double) tip to make up for all the running around she had to do and for putting up with chaos with a smile on her face. When she received our tip, she was so grateful.
As we walked along the waterfront after our breakfast, I told my husband that the only thing I can think of to help out people right now is to go small – make every interaction, every conversation, every greeting, every time I talk or see another person an opportunity to show love and kindness. The only hope I see for rebuilding our relationships and communities and crossing this vast angry divide is to go small and take it one person at a time.

I know we can be the friendly and generous people we have a reputation of being if we heal each other one interaction at a time.
I’m going small, and hoping others will join me and that it can make all the difference.

Is it Possible to be Happy and Have Schizophrenia? Spoiler: Yes.

09 Wednesday May 2018

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

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Last night before going to bed, I read a long article about happiness. Of course, I thought I would remember which magazine it was in so I could write about it today, but I can’t. I tried Googling words and phrases from the article, but it turns out there are a lot of articles, essays, and general information about happiness on the internet.

What stood out about this article to me was the idea that you have to love the challenges and negative things in your life to be truly happy, and you have to look at life as a game. In the article, the author wrote about how if you view life as a game you wouldn’t want that game to be without challenges.

Okay, so before drifting off to sleep, I started thinking of my diverticulitis which has completely changed my life. I am so careful about what I eat, how much I eat, how much fiber I get, eating fruits and vegetables, and we used to go out to eat all of the time, and now I would prefer to eat at home. It also presents challenges when we are traveling, so we don’t travel as much.

What can I love about diverticulitis? Well, I eat 5-7 servings of fruits and vegetables every day. That is something to love about diverticulitis. Having the illness got me to eat a healthier diet. Also, I am by far more mindful of what I put in my body. This isn’t to say, I don’t eat potato chips and chocolate, I do, but I never engage in mindless eating now when before I did. Lastly, having diverticulitis helped me learn that I have willpower and a great deal of control over my actions. Okay, so those were the only things I thought I could stretch and say that I love about having diverticulitis.

After I did the exercise with diverticulitis, I had to try schizophrenia. Is there anything I can love about having schizophrenia? Even writing the word love and schizophrenia in the same sentence is difficult, but I am going to move past that and try the exercise.

I like the woman I am with schizophrenia, and I don’t know who that woman is anymore without schizophrenia. There are symptoms that I know are my illness, but there are other things about me where I can’t separate the illness from my personality. So, by loving/liking myself, I could also say I love/like schizophrenia (definitely not all of it!). But there are a few things worth mentioning; I think schizophrenia has increased my compassion, and having schizophrenia has made me more empathetic. Schizophrenia has helped me see the bigger picture which includes me, and many others who are both like, and not like, me. Schizophrenia has helped me make connections in my brain and my thinking that I might not otherwise make.

There you have it; I was able to love two of my biggest health concerns for some of the things they bring into my life. Am I one step closer to happiness? Well, I already consider myself happy, so no, but if I keep looking for the positive buried in the negative I might end up being deliriously happy, who knows?

Love, Marriage and Schizophrenia? You Bet!

21 Wednesday Mar 2018

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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 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.

 

A Nostalgic Christmas

24 Sunday Dec 2017

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My husband and I are sitting in our robes at our computers, listening to Christmas carols. Today is the first time this season I have heard the Christmas songs I grew up with. The songs are full of emotion for me. It started this morning on Snapchat when one of the filters had a halo and wings, and the song playing was Oh Holy Night. Tears filled my eyes and ran down my cheeks. I heard the same song when I clicked on a link from fellow blogger Outofagreatneed’s Facebook page.

It isn’t the songs about jingle bells, or frosty the snowman, or how cold it is outside that get me; it is the religious songs that get me crying. Those songs were such a part of my childhood, and they bring up the most powerful and wonderful memories. It makes me miss the child I used to be and the young version of all my brothers.

I love my life with my husband and the past twenty years with him have been the best of my life, but I have to admit there are things in my childhood that I miss and that I mourn. I miss having my three older brothers around. I miss believing in Santa Claus and magic. I miss my love of Sunday school, and I miss the simplicity of the 60’s and 70’s. I guess I miss being a kid even though my brothers and I had traumatic and tough things to deal with in our youth.

We attended church every Christmas Eve growing up and every year we sang the same songs. When it was time to sing, The First Noel, my oldest brother, Joel (who is seven years my senior), used to tell all of us younger kids that they were singing the FIRST JOEL. All four of us kids would be belting out “The first Joel, the angels did sing!” Joel would have a huge grin on his face when all of us younger kids loudly sang his name.

Not only do the religious songs bring up memories of my innocence and a simpler time, but they also bring up all the hope I have for my life and the lives of others. The songs remind me of all the best messages of a religion I hold dear: all people are created equal (even if they are homeless or have a mental illness), there is forgiveness for all, there is joy, there is the promise of peace. Not to mention a belief that I will someday see my beloved grandparents, and other people who have passed before me. Equality. Hope. Joy. Forgiveness. Meaning. Eternity. Love. Peace. Not a bad way to focus a troubled mind.

So, as I sing off key and loudly in my condominium this Christmas feeling both triumphant and nostalgic, I hope that a part or a piece of the season I celebrate enters your heart – imagine, equality. Imagine peace. Think love.

Merry Christmas from a very sentimental blogger who dares to hope for a better life for all – next year and all the years to come.

 

A Not So Gentle Reminder

14 Tuesday Nov 2017

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Last night my husband and I had to run some errands. One errand was picking up my medications, but there were several others as well – things that just couldn’t wait. I haven’t been on a regular sleep schedule (as you can see I am up at 2 AM). So, I ended up taking my medications at 4:30 AM yesterday morning which meant I needed to take them again at 4:30 PM. Like many people, I need to take my pills with food for them to be the most potent. It was past 5:00 PM when we got to the grocery store to do our shopping. I was irritated, hungry and I wanted to get home to eat and take my medication. I don’t like getting off a schedule with my meds.

When we go to the grocery store, I am very fast. I go quickly to the things I need and then I am ready to go. My husband likes to go down every aisle and look at everything. Although we are partnered well with most things in life, our grocery store shopping habits don’t match well together. Normally, this doesn’t bother either one of us too much, but I was cranky.

After finding everything on the list, I went to find my husband. He was in the spice aisle talking to a woman. The woman was asking him about spices. I thought she was drunk. My husband (being one of the nicest people you will ever meet) was helping this woman find chicken seasoning. Then she asked him to help her find sea salt. I was standing behind the two of them with my hand on my forehead fuming. I was so irritated with my husband. Did he have to help everyone even when he knows I need to get home and eat and take my medications?

My husband looked over and saw my irritated and angry face and said goodbye to the woman in the spice aisle. I said, “I need to get home and take my meds!” My husband said, “Okay. Okay. I didn’t realize it was an emergency. Let’s go.”

When we got home, and we were putting away the groceries my husband said, “The woman in the spice aisle was legally blind, she couldn’t read the labels.” That is when my heart sank, and I felt a burn of shame. I was so worried about myself and my needs; I couldn’t even relax and allow my husband to help someone who was visually impaired find and get the things she needed. It reminded me that I am often too quick to make judgments about people just like they are too quick to make them about me. I always want people to slow down, listen and learn with me, but I need to do the same for others.

To make matters worse, my husband, being rushed by me at the grocery store didn’t get to buy some of his favorite foods for this week. My impatience and concern for myself kept the person I love the most from having the things he enjoys.

It reminds me of the lyrics of a Kinks song that I loved in college, “Stop. Hold on. Stay in control.”

I guess I needed a few lessons yesterday, and I learned them the hard way.

Finding Love Despite a Mental Illness

06 Monday Nov 2017

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In the past few days, I have seen several posts and articles written by authors hoping to find love/partner after a mental health diagnosis. All of the authors have said that they want to find someone who can love them as they are. I don’t think that is unusual I think most of us long to find someone who will accept us – good and bad – flaws and strengths.

As someone with one of the most stigmatized of the mental illnesses who is happily married and has been for almost twenty years, I can say finding that someone is possible. But is it likely? I think it is if the person looking can think about what they have to offer instead of what the other person has to give.

If we concentrate on building our world and our lives, the more appealing we will be to a potential partner and the less they will have to bring to the relationship. Building our world can be everything from reading more books to working at hobbies (or picking one up), attending classes, working a full or part-time job, getting out more, traveling, exploring the city or town you live in, etc.

There are times when our illness can be a pit where care by the person we love is needed 24/7. I assume this is the reality that most people fear when they think about becoming a couple. Will he/she be willing to stick with me through the really hard stuff? Will he/she leave me when things are mostly dark, and the signs of light might not be obvious?

It is difficult to say how any one person will behave when they are in the role of caregiver, but anyone can become disabled at any time, and that is a risk we take when finding and committing to a partner too – to care for them in sickness and in health. If you can imagine yourself caring for someone who had a stroke, had a heart attack, or develops Parkinson’s or cancer, then why is it so hard for you to imagine that someone would stand by and care for you when depression, or psychosis overtake you?

What have I learned as I’ve gotten older and been married for almost two decades? Life is fragile, health is fragile, circumstances are fragile, but love is strong, and there is no reason why everyone can’t find a love to survive all of the fragile parts and give them strength to get out of bed every day, keep going, and put joy in their hearts against all odds.

Can Something as Simple as Cupcakes and Humor Hold a Marriage Together Under The Pressure of Incredible Odds?

30 Tuesday Aug 2016

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My husband suffers so much disappointment due to my illness, but he would never say that, or even show it. I know and can see that it is true, though. When we first met, I would drive from Seattle to Los Angeles by myself to visit him. I haven’t driven a car in the last eight months. My husband and friends drive, or I take the bus or walk whenever I have to go out.

Cupcakes and humor.

When we first started dating, I would fly (even overseas) by myself. Now, when we travel we have to plan the trip around certain times of day (less anxiety), and we have to pack and prepare in ways to try to make the trip as pleasant and as smooth as possible. I almost always am overcome by anxiety at some point in every trip (usually at the airport and on the airplane).

Cupcakes and humor.

I was once so independent compared to how I am now. I was once so social and active. Now, we spend a lot of energy to make sure that my life is as stress-free as possible to keep symptoms at a minimum. I stay at home and have very little stress or interactions during the day. I even limit what I post on social media to avoid confrontation with others (stress).

Cupcakes and humor.

I know my husband would enjoy socializing more, but I will rarely agree to go with him (isolating socially is a real symptom of schizophrenia and one that has increased in me every year). There is so much my husband enjoys that he has given up to help provide me with the kind of environment I need to give me the most symptom-free existence.

Cupcakes and humor.

For all the sacrifices my husband makes, I try to be a supportive partner when I can. Once a month my husband asks me to make cupcakes because he has taken it upon himself to celebrate the birthdays of everyone in his office. My husband reminds me on the last Monday of every month, “If you feel up to it tomorrow, can you please make cupcakes?” It wouldn’t matter if I were suffering from my worst symptoms I would try not to let him down by having the kitchen counter free of the little cakes that help him lift the morale of his coworkers. It is so little to ask of me. In the past six years, I have never once let him down.

Cupcakes and humor.

When I am comfortable, I make up random songs and sing them constantly. I am a terrible dancer, but I love to shake a little booty with absolutely no sense of rhythm while walking from one room to the other in the house. I love to tell a lively story about anything and everything. To make this simple, I love to see my husband break into a belly laugh or at least a big smile, and no one can do that to him the way I can. So yes, it is the simple ingredients that hold even strained marriages together. May I suggest Cupcakes and humor?