Tag Archives: Thanksgiving

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.

Having Schizophrenia and my Take on Thanksgiving

21 Tuesday Nov 2017

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

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There is nothing original about typing up what you are thankful for this time of year; this is the season of Thanksgiving. People are making gratitude lists all over the Internet. I love to read these lists; I find them interesting. I’m not going to make a list. I am going to share a little about Thanksgiving and gratitude from the experience of someone who has schizophrenia.

It would be a lie if I said I never wanted to die. I have attempted suicide twice. It is true that those attempts happened before I was stable on medication, but they happened all the same.

Yesterday, I was unable to sit through a meeting because I had a panic attack. The day before that I was unable to eat spaghetti squash that my husband made because the unfamiliarity of it made me too paranoid to consume it. My mentor offered my husband, and I almost free room and board if we bought our airline tickets to Ireland (we would have stayed in a castle with catered meals), and I had to say no because I am afraid to go that far from home right now. She made a similar offer about France, and again, our answer was no.

I have so many limits, so many disappointments, and so many daily struggles and that list of negatives goes on. All of this, and I haven’t yet mentioned that my illness is the type people talk about in hushed voices. No one from the church or anywhere else sends us food when I am battling. It is so different than cancer, or heart disease. No pies, vegetarian meatloaf or mac and cheese.

I also have a disease where often the first thing people ask or think of when you tell them about it is, “Are you dangerous?” Those of us with schizophrenia, are frequently categorized as monsters by the media both in movies and on the news.

All of that, and it is a lot, and it wears me down, and it is difficult, but I want everyone to know, I am thankful. I am thankful beyond measure. I am married to the love of my life. I laugh and cry almost every day. I see the beauty and the pain on people’s faces as I pass them on the street. I take the time to look out the window, across the bay at the colors of the setting sun. I love eating potato chips with dip. I love apple and pumpkin pie. I am amused daily by Snapchat. I appreciate and savor a good cup of coffee, and there is more, so much more. The list goes on an on.

Yes, it is difficult to live with schizophrenia, but life unfolds its wonders and beauties to those of us who have a mental illness, too. Those of us with a brain disease have not been passed over by the glories of the universe, in fact, maybe at times we see them more clearly – it’s possible. Because of course, everything is possible even when you have schizophrenia.

Happy Thanksgiving. I sincerely wish you the best!

Misfits, Sugar Cookies, and Mental Illness

09 Thursday Nov 2017

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

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Wow, I can’t believe it is almost Thanksgiving. I made reservations today for my parents and my husband and me to go to a buffet that we have been to on many Thanksgivings in the past. I love this buffet. It is expensive (but much less expensive than any of the other buffets in town), and it has cookies. Yes, believe it or not, with all the turkey, cheese, potatoes, ham, seafood, eggs, bacon, and desserts, I get the most excited about the cookies. I am a nut for sugar cookies. I love them, and there was only one year when they didn’t have a couple of different kinds of sugar cookies.

I know the holidays can be tough for many people. Some people are alone. Some people get depressed. Some people are reminded of traumatic experiences of holidays past. If you are one of those people, I am sorry. I wish you lived in my city because I would invite you to go to the buffet with us and maybe my enthusiasm for sugar cookies would wear off on you. Maybe, you would find it quirky enough or silly enough to make you smile. Maybe, they would be serving something that is one of your favorite comfort foods. Maybe, the casual kindness and acceptance of the four of us would help you get through a hard day.

I just read the “Misfit’s Manifesto” by Lidia Yucknavitch, and I would welcome a Thanksgiving dinner of a group of misfits. If you have a few bucks (I know it is tough especially with Christmas coming up) I recommend buying this book if you have a mental illness. If you can’t buy the book, then you can download her TED talk that is a companion to the book. I think you will find a certain comfort in the fact that many “successful” people have taken some broken paths and winding detours to get where they are, and that those people often feel on the outside. As someone with schizophrenia, I always feel on the outside.

I can’t go anywhere where I completely shed the fact that I have schizophrenia. I am almost always (except for a few things I find very distracting) reminded of my illness and how it sets me apart from those I am around. It is always isolating to be aware that I am different. That my experiences, my brain, my diagnosis is something that most people can’t identify with. Sure, maybe they can identify with suffering (we all suffer). And maybe they can identify with having to take multiple medications every day, or go to get blood work all the time, or small things like that, but the experience of having your mind turn against you is not something the average person can relate to their experience.

Hopefully, there is a way or a time that many of us “misfits” can get together and share a holiday or just share a lunch, brunch or cup of coffee. But if we can’t be together in person to ease the discomfort of being the outsiders, maybe we can agree to meet here, and I will try to tell you how good those sugar cookies are so you can get a sense of how the smallest things can bring me great pleasure.

As the holidays near, I hope you can find those small things that please you too, even if it is as simple as a cookie. Also, know that us “misfits” are out there getting through the holidays, too – some probably better than others but each of us feeling different than those who surround us.

Happy Holidays fellow “misfits” I am thinking of you.

Realizing Your Value

15 Tuesday Mar 2016

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

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I am grateful for my friends and the other people in my life. I think I am particularly grateful because I have schizophrenia. I have some internalized stigma (I’m working on it), and that causes me to feel overly grateful that people want to be a part of my life.

When I look at who I am as a person, and who the people in my life are, I realize they are lucky to have me in their lives, too. Just as all the people in my life have to overlook some of my symptoms, or deal with them, I have to overlook their quirks, habits, flaws and love them as they are. None of the people in my life are perfect. I have some friends who lean toward the negative. I have some friends who are terrible listeners. I have some friends with quirks and idiosyncrasies. I have some friends who have big egos, and I have friends on the opposite side who have self-esteem problems.

In other words, I have real people in my life, and I fit into that category, too.  There are no more “things” to deal with regarding a relationship with me than there are with other people.

I think this is important for people who have a mental illness to realize. Those of us with a mental illness have so many things happen over the course of our lives that can shatter our self-esteem and leave us thankful for anyone who sticks around. The extreme case of this is staying in an abusive relationship, and the less extreme is bending over backward for people (lending them money, always doing what they want, picking up the tab for social events, helping them out in any way that presents itself, etc.).

Maybe, everyone with a mental illness should make a list of their positive qualities and then list their symptoms and see how much more they have to offer than the problems that arise from their symptoms.

I want to continue to feel blessed and lucky to have so many amazing people who are a part of my life, but I don’t want to feel that gratitude just because I have schizophrenia. I want to be grateful because friendship and love are always a reason for celebration, not because I am bruised, flawed, imperfect and lucky to have anyone (no matter whom they are) to be around me.

My hope for all people with a mental illness is that they will recognize and begin to celebrate those things that make them unique and wonderful people – those things about us that mental illness doesn’t touch, or enhances in some of us (like empathy, compassion, possibly creativity, etc.). I want us all to know we are valuable and cherished people in other’s lives just like they are of value to ours.

So, we aren’t perfect. No one is so that just makes us human, like all the people in our lives. We all have obstacles to overcome, and that can make us more alike than different. We can share our struggles and help each other along – we can make our relationships equal instead of lopsided. We can admit that we need each other. We can recognize against all odds that we are of value and people benefit from having us in their lives.

When Gratitude Lists Fall Short

21 Thursday Jan 2016

Posted by in Uncategorized, writing

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I have started a gratitude lists/journal many times so this article in the New York Times was a wake-up call to me that the typical forms of expressing gratitude are in fact self-centered.

The article title is, The Selfish Side of Gratitude, and it is worth a read to shake all of us up and out of some of our complacency and self-indulgence.

The article addresses the very popular notion of “an attitude of gratitude” and how proponents of positive thinking suggest that nourishing that attitude translates into increased happiness, better health, and overall wellbeing. The author points out that much of what we do to express gratitude does not require interactions with other people and is selfishness. An example of that selfishness is creating a gratitude journal and writing down things like being grateful for having a roof over your head and food on the table.

It is great to be thankful for having food on the table, but this type of gratitude doesn’t recognize all the people (the community) involved in putting food on our tables – farmers, laborers, truckers, and many others. The author suggests that instead of gratitude we should instead practice “solidarity” and try to get people a better working environment or conditions and higher wages – as a way of truly expressing gratitude that does much more than making a list.

I’m not going to throw out the idea of a gratitude journal or list. I like putting gratitude in the forefront of my thoughts every day, but the premise of the article is great to consider. I see how keeping a list does something to elevate my mood, but it doesn’t do anything for anyone else. A list may make me feel good, but it doesn’t make the world a better place.

As a writer, working alone in my living room most days of the week, it is important for me to do things for other people. It is important for me to get out of my thoughts and my world from time to time. Writing is a solitary experience and although I can write articles and essays that address inequality, marginalization, injustice, etc. it isn’t the same as talking to people, thanking them and finding out what it is that would make their life better.

And even if it turns out that there is little I can do to make someone’s life better, I can be kind to the people behind the counter at the grocery store. I can be kind to the baristas at the coffee shop. I can be kind to the mailperson, and the garbage collectors. I can wish them a good day, and maybe even ask them their name. I can keep my eyes and ears open for ways to make their lives better because their work makes my life better and being willing to act on that is true gratitude – a kind of thanksgiving- giving something to those who make our lives easier and more comfortable. It takes a community to create a working society, and every member’s contribution is valuable. Maybe keeping a list can be the beginning of not taking anyone for granted.

 

At Fifty, I Like What I See

05 Tuesday Jan 2016

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

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At fifty-years-old I have daily aches and pains. My lower back hurts, my shoulder hurts, and I have things happening with my body that I wouldn’t discuss in public. Getting older is tough on the body, but for me, there is something else that is happening – I am more comfortable with myself. I thought that the comfort that I am experiencing was universal for women over fifty. But it isn’t because many of the women my age are now scheduling Botox injections, touching up every picture they post to social media and spending money and time on treatments, tucks, creams, clothing, diets, gyms, etc.

I can understand the desire to be healthy and I can understand the desire to look good, but does looking good have to mean a youthful appearance?

I haven’t lived a very healthy life. I smoked for over twenty years. I have battled depression and schizophrenia. There was a time when I drank to excess. There was a time when I used drugs. All of these things have left their imprint on my face. I have dips, cracks and crevasses that tell a story of a turbulent adolescence and young adult life.

Okay, so I don’t look thirty anymore. I don’t even look forty. It is possible that I look older than I am, but I am happy. In fact, I have never been happier with myself, husband, creative work, my whole life.

I don’t want to be the kind of person that acts like mental illness isn’t tough. It is tough, and not every day is a happy, shiny, positive-feeling-type day.

But when I look at the facts and my face, I can’t help but feel gratitude and a sense of celebration. I have lived to be fifty-years-old. I have been fortunate enough to be alive for a half of a century. I have never been a victim of famine or war. I have enough money to pay my bills. My husband has a job. We both have had the opportunity to go to school. I can sit at my computer (I have a computer!) every day and write, and that is what I love to do.

On the good days, I can see past my illness and my aging body to the far off horizon. On the good days, the landscape is large, and I can see that so many people in the world have more struggles than me. There are people who don’t know where they will get their next meal. There are places where bombs and terrorism are everyday occurrences. There are people living without medical treatment, people living in fear, desperation, and in the cold.

I don’t want to deny people the struggles of a mental illness, but I don’t want to go to a pity party either. Yes, I have social anxiety. Yes, I have panic attacks. Yes, I often suffer from paranoia. Yes, I frequently am bed ridden by fatigue. Yes, I am no longer young. Yes, I look like a middle-aged woman.

All I can say is that I am thankful I am a middle-aged woman because the alternative means I didn’t make it, and the reality is that I did make it. I made it to fifty, and if you don’t think that is beautiful, then you don’t see the battles and demons I had to fight.

Fifty is cause for celebration, not Photoshop. I’m so much more than the folds, wrinkles and the beginning of a double chin.

Wellness This Holiday Season

25 Wednesday Nov 2015

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

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My husband and I have been doing a lot of visiting this holiday season (and will continue to do so until after the New Year). I thought staying in other people’s homes, and completely disrupting my routine would cause me to experience more symptoms than usual, but actually I haven’t. In fact, the reverse is true.

I think the reason I have been doing so well is that all the people we have been visiting with have known me since I was young, and before the onset of schizophrenia. I think this says a lot about support networks, familiarity and expectations.

I think most studies show that the treatment outcomes are the best for those people who are a part of a community. This would certainly prove true over the past week for me. Being around people that have known me almost my whole life, reminiscing with those people about shared memories, listening to them tell stories about things they have done since the last time I saw them, and having them expect me to help with grocery shopping, meal preparation, dishes, etc. has helped me to put my illness on the back burner somewhere and only think about it when it is time for medication, or in private conversations about the book I wrote (which has to do with living with schizophrenia).

I think being outside of my own head and having to concentrate on other people (what they are saying, what they are doing, and what they need, want, etc.) is good for me. I wouldn’t say that just being busy and being with people would always do me good though. I think the ingredient of trust and familiarity that I have with these people makes this such a winning combination.

At home, I give in to my desire to isolate socially, and to the symptoms round a lack of motivation. During this holiday season, I can’t isolate socially because people are always around, and not only do I want to visit with them, I am expected to visit with them. And not only do I want to contribute and make people’s lives easier, I am expected to contribute.

Because I have some insight into my condition and into social situations (not all people with schizophrenia do, and I lack that insight when psychotic) I am able to understand the expectations that others have of me, and to respond to those expectations in order to avoid negative social consequences like people thinking I am lazy, rude, inconsiderate, etc.

Experiencing those social expectations in an environment where I am safe has turned out to be positive – it keeps me engaged and it keeps me contributing to the community.

It is impossible for me to be around the people I have visited all year long, because our lives have taken all of us to different cities and in different directions, but if I was going to give advice to someone recently diagnosed with schizophrenia, I would say, surround yourself with people you can trust and people who knew you before your illness set in – those people will have ways of bringing you outside of your mind (great for those of us with a mental illness), they will have stories that can make you remember who and how you were, they will expect things of you that may help you to function at a higher level.

It is possible that these benefits will only last a short period of time and if I were around the same people all year, I would isolate myself, spend most of the time in my own mind, and lose my motivation for helping to do daily chores. I don’t know. I do know I have a lot to be thankful for this holiday season.

I have been a part of something larger than me. I have been a part of the lives of so many. It may be short lived, but I feel an increased level of hope for my today and my tomorrows. Hope is the gift I have received this holiday season and it wasn’t on my list. If it isn’t on your list, I hope you are surprised by its arrival like I was. I hope hope visits you as well.

Being Mentally Ill And The Holidays

19 Thursday Nov 2015

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

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Thanksgiving is one week away. I don’t know how it happened, but the holidays are here, and the stress of the holidays is about to go into fifth gear. The goal of anyone with a mental illness should be to keep it in neutral and coast down the hill to the New Year without anxiety, depression, paranoia, psychosis, or any other symptom (all of which can be made worse by stress).

As we move into the most stressful, and for many people depressing, time of the year please take care of yourself. No matter which holidays you celebrate (Thanksgiving, Christmas, Hanukah, Kwanza, The New Year), remember what the meaning behind these holidays are – gratefulness, hope, joy, peace, love, new beginnings, etc.) .  Try to focus on the bigger picture and not on the little things.

There have been many years when I have bought the most beautiful holiday cards, and I didn’t address or send one of those cards. I had the best intentions, but I failed at completing the task.

There have been many years when I bought all the ingredients to make five to ten holiday cookies to give out to coworkers and friends, and by the next holiday, I ended up throwing all the ingredients away.

There have been many years when I thought I would buy all my friends a holiday gift, but it ended up being too expensive to get them anything that wasn’t going to end up in the trash.

For people with a mental illness, the holidays can seem overwhelming and filled with high hopes, and big failures. These failures can end up making us feel worse about ourselves. All of this coupled with the social events or gatherings with family and friends that are not pleasant for everyone. Not everyone has good family relationships, and for all of us, extra people and social interactions mean added stress.

My holiday wish list for you:

That you will know you are enough with or without gifts.

That you will remember that taking care of yourself is a loving act.

That you will find joy in the little things like candy canes, mocha, or eggnog.

That you will remind yourself of all the things you have to be thankful for.

That you will know that at least one other person is thankful for you.

That you will feel the magic of the season in someone’s smile, or small act of kindness.

That you will feel like sharing part of what you have with someone less fortunate.

That your heart will grow bigger with compassion, empathy, and love for you fellow human beings.

I wish you the best holiday season you have ever had and I pray that means you are symptom free so you can enjoy some of the best ideas that life has to offer – joy, peace, hope, love.

I will be here on A Journey with You if you need me.

 

A Storm, The Holidays, And The Mentally Ill

04 Wednesday Nov 2015

Posted by in mental illness, schizophrenia

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Storms terrify me, and we had a big storm in Southern California yesterday. The wind was rattling all of our sliding glass windows (we live in an old condo, on the third floor, and the sliding glass doors are very loose and in need of weatherizing). The rain was coming down so hard it sounded like someone had turned on a very loud shower. The thunder would occasionally boom and rumble. I curled up in bed and in a pathetic attempt to drown out the sounds of the first winter storm, I turned on a fan.

As I was wrapped up in the covers of my bed, I thought about the people, over ten thousand of them, living on the streets, some within walking distance of where I was warm and dry. Many of the people without a roof over their head last night are mentally ill. I tried to imagine myself out on the street, in soaking wet clothes, shivering as thunder and lightning popped and crackled overhead. To be so cold, uncomfortable, and to have no option but to sit there shaking and alone is a reality for real live people in the city where I live.

On a night like last night it is impossible for me to imagine the depth of loneliness, and discomfort of the homeless. Do they feel as if the world has forgotten them? Do they feel as if they are still human, with dignity, and value? While so many of us sit in our houses, protected from the elements, playing on our computers or phones, eating a snack, watching television, reading a book or newspaper and casually wondering about the meaning of life or are we happy enough, some people are simply wondering where they can get a little less wet and be a little more shielded from the wind.

To try and imagine the thoughts of the people on the street breaks a part of me open. To try and imagine what it is really like to live such a hard life where even going to the bathroom is a struggle, and being thirsty means relying on the compassion of a shop owner to give you a cup so you can get some water, these thoughts give me pain.

I spend a good portion of every day reading about people’s experience with being mentally ill. And don’t get me wrong, being mentally ill can be like a road block, and battle at every turn, but being mentally ill and having the luxury to keep a blog, write articles about your symptoms, be in therapy, go to doctors, eat when you are hungry, turn up the heat when you are cold is a very different experience than being mentally ill and having nothing except what you can carry.

I hope that as I try to write about what it is like to have schizophrenia, and that while I am carving out a space for my voice on the Internet that I never forget that I have a responsibility to give voice to the truly voiceless – those living on the street and possibly being tortured by their symptoms.

We are moving into the season of Thanksgiving and the season of giving. If you can buy socks, or rain coats, or an umbrella for someone living without a home, that would be fantastic, but if you can’t afford to do that, you can use the power of your words to bring attention to those people who are so often overlooked and forgotten.

This blog post is for people living with schizophrenia whose names I may never know, but whose faces I see as I’m waiting for the bus. I’m writing for you today, because it is one of the few things I can give you to try and make people see that you are suffering and hopefully use their resources to help change it.

Welcome to the holiday season.