Tag Archives: writing

A Seismic Shift

19 Thursday Apr 2018

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

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Along with many other people, I am a person who is always trying to make myself better. I don’t want to stagnate in my relationships, my learning, my life. I would consider myself a life-long learner, a phrase I first heard my uncle use approximately three decades ago.

Since I graduated from college, I have almost always been in one kind of class or training program. I graduated from college with a BA in Liberal Arts in 1989 and since that time I have taken diversity training, non-profit organization training, numerous writing classes, a year-long leadership training program, a culinary arts program, etc.

Occasionally throughout the years, there has been a teacher, a statement, an exercise that has changed the course of my life. I can name these people, quotes, and experiences on two hands. Last night I had one of those experiences in a class I am taking online from Lidia Yuknavitch.

When I received my first diagnosis of bipolar disorder in my twenties, I spent a lot of time romanticizing the illness. I thought maybe having bipolar disorder made me more creative or more intelligent, or unique in other ways. I spent many days reading about famous people with the disorder.

At nearly forty, when I received a diagnosis of schizophrenia, I didn’t romanticize the illness at all. Schizophrenia, unlike bipolar disorder, is rarely romanticized in writing, or in the media. I adapted an attitude that many people have about mental illness in general which is that people who are creative would be creative with or without the illness and it is possible that if they weren’t sick, they would be far more productive. I adapted this attitude because it was far better than the messages society gave about schizophrenia.

I internalized some of those societal messages, too. In other words, I could find a silver lining in being someone with bipolar disorder, but I only saw hardship and struggle in the diagnosis of schizophrenia.

Last night, for the first time since my diagnosis over a decade ago, this attitude shifted a little bit. Some of my internalized stigmas shook loose, and I looked at schizophrenia a bit differently than I ever have in the past.

Just to let you know, Lidia Yuknavitch is a bestselling author. She is magnetic in her beliefs and has an amazing spirit of creativity, and wildness. She is generous and kind, and she wrote the book, “The Misfit’s Manifesto.” (I recommend that anyone with a mental illness read this book to find acceptance and a way forward despite what society tells you.)

So, what did Lidia say to me last night that shifted my perspective? I can’t quote her exactly, but she said that I have characters, voices, and things to write because of schizophrenia that no one else can write and that there is deep creativity in that.

I don’t like that I once romanticized bipolar disorder. And I don’t want to romanticize any mental illness, but when you live with a diagnosis that so many people consider the “worst” thing that can happen to you and someone you respect says that that illness gave you a gift in a way you care deeply about, you take it.

You take it, you look at it, you circle it, you inspect it, and you write as you have never written before because gosh darn no one has ever said anything positive about schizophrenia, and you heard it. You heard it from her.

The Positive Mental Health Boost of Having a Routine

18 Wednesday Apr 2018

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

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I found something that is life-changing for me. What is it? Routine. I imagine the concept of a routine sounds simplistic to some of you, and obvious to others, but I never knew what kind of difference it could make to my mental health.

I am not talking about a routine that is designed from the time I wake up to the time I go to bed, my routine is way more flexible than that, but it does pop up in and out of my day.

In the morning, if I am the last one to get out of bed, I make the bed. I know that sounds simple, but it helps me feel like I have tidied up a little bit and accomplished something before I even leave the bedroom. I also take care of my teeth not long after waking up, then make coffee, eat a banana and take my medications.

While I am having my first cup of coffee, I work through my day planner (set up to help with productivity). And I work one exercise in a book of lists that I write that are supposed to increase happiness. I also work in another book that is supposed to increase creativity, and then I write a paragraph or two from a writing prompt out of a huge writing prompt book I have.  All of these exercises, take about a half of an hour, and that completes my morning routine.

Later in the day, I try to take two 15 minute walks in between writing, watching the news, reading or whatever else I am doing.

I have dinner around six o’clock every night and take my second dose of medication.

Before bed, I fill up my water jugs for the next day and put them in the refrigerator so they will be cold. I also clean out the coffee pot and floss and brush my teeth.

There is a lot of room during the day to do whatever else I want, need, or feel like doing, or handling a nap or panic attack or any symptoms that come up.

I have found since I have started this routine that I am far more productive (writing at least one essay, homework assignment, or blog post a day). I also get out and take walks more frequently (from 2-4 times a day), and I work on two projects (books) that I am working on with my writing buddy.

I just can’t stress how much happier I am now that I stick to a routine and I get so much more done during the day. Not every day runs perfectly because of symptoms of schizophrenia or one of my other health issues (back and stomach), but about 90% of the time I feel good about my day, my progress, and how I spent my time.

I never knew how much better I would feel with a little bit of work and structure. I’m all for the familiarity and boundaries of a routine!

 

 

Does it Scare You When I am Just Like You?

07 Saturday Apr 2018

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

When Schizophrenia is not Your Only Challenge

30 Friday Mar 2018

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

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My writing partner, Joyce, is here from Virginia. We are creating a week-long writing retreat at my house. Last night, my husband, who loves to show people around our city, wanted to take Joyce out to Old Town. Old Town is the area where the Spanish first settled here. It is considered the “birthplace” of California. In Old Town there are dozens of Mexican restaurants, so we planned to go to one of the largest.

Joyce had never heard of or tried, potato tacos, and I happen to love potato tacos, so I told her all the wonders of them while we were driving in the car to the restaurant. When we arrived the line for seating was long, but we talked with each other and other people waiting in line, so the time went quickly.

Once we were seated and looked at the menu, Joyce decided to order the three taco plate, and she asked me if I wanted one of the potato tacos. I was going to order a side of refried beans and a taco, so Joyce’s suggestion was perfect.

The service was rather slow because the restaurant was packed (Spring break in Southern California), but when our food arrived Joyce offered me a taco off of her plate. There were tomatoes, and many other things mixed in with the potato that I can’t eat due to my diverticulitis. At first I tried scrapping the toppings off and away from the potatoes but there were too mixed up, so finally, I apologized and said, “I’ll have my beans. I’m sorry. I can’t eat that.”

In the past year, with health issues (diverticulitis and my back) I have had to say no, or no thank you, or sorry, I’ll have to pass, on more occasions than I can count. At first, I felt a lot of disappointment at not being able to indulge in things that I normally enjoy or consider my favorites. Now, I am so used to having to say no, that the disappointment doesn’t hit me very hard. Trust me, I wanted that potato taco, but for health reasons, it was a better choice not to take a risk and eat it.

I am learning through some of life’s challenges to be happy with what I can eat, enjoy, experience and not dwell on the things I miss out on. Not being able to eat popcorn (one of my favorite comfort foods), or tomatoes, or strawberries, or a whole list of other foods is not the worst thing that has happened to me. Me having to say no every day to things I want and enjoy has become like a meditation in gratitude.

I might not be able to have everything I want, but I am thankful for the things I can have, and I am starting to believe I take greater pleasure in the simplest things. Not being able to have everything I want is not a bad thing, it can build character and appreciation. I believe in self-care, but always saying yes to ourselves can lead to money problems, health problems, and other negative things. I’m getting good at looking for the positive in adversity and challenges, and I think it is serving me well. I’m happy, grateful and as healthy as can be expected and that is more important than handful after handful of buttery popcorn, or that scrumptious potato taco.

007, Schizophrenia, and Writing

02 Friday Mar 2018

Posted by in mental illness, schizophrenia, Uncategorized

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I type out the last sentence, sit back, take a sip of my coffee and read the whole essay through one more time. “I think this is good,” I tell myself. I make sure to save it one more time. It is under the file on my computer that no one else sees, the one named after the James Bond film, “For Your Eyes Only.” I sing a few words from the theme song out loud and try not to think how my work, probably my best work, is in that file that only I will see.

I once tried to post one of the files from “For Your Eyes Only” on my blog, but I couldn’t stop the racing thoughts. The article was about a company that makes video games. I thought one of their games was demeaning to people with schizophrenia. I wanted to have my voice heard. I wanted to publish my views on the game so others could read it and decide for themselves. I wanted to express another side of their story. The article was up for approximately one hour before the thoughts about internet trolls and how they make death threats and harass writers they don’t agree with defeated my publishing attempt.

This past year is different from every year prior. I watch the news every day. I feel strongly about and am outraged by many things. There are essays and articles that I don’t see written about the hypocrisy of so many politicians. I am a Christian and the things some of the most vocal Christian are saying about politicians being “ordained by God,” make me feel like Christianity has fractured more than just Methodist and Lutheran – there are fundamental beliefs that some people hold that are in direct opposition to the ones other’s hold. At this point, it is clearly a separate religion. I have an essay about it, but I fear to take a stand against the Christian Right.

So many people romanticize being an artist and having a severe mental illness. I once did the same thing. I thought reading the poems of Anne Sexton, and Sylvia Plath made me dark and edgy. I thought artists needed to be dark and edgy, especially poets which is what my younger twenty-something-self desired to be. I used to tell people that I thought I could drive myself over the edge, make myself crazy  – like really crazy, like “Girl Interrupted,” crazy. That was all before I had my first psychotic episode. That was all before there was no more “acting” edgy, or “acting” dark. My mind was dark, and I wouldn’t call hallucinations, delusions, or suicidal tendencies “edgy.”

My first diagnosis was bipolar disorder. I still held on to some of the romance of mental illness – brilliance. I looked up every famous person with bipolar disorder. I read books about them. So much talent, so much intelligence. I might not be able to play at being edgy anymore, but I could show signs of intense creativity and intelligence. I wanted so hard to believe like so many people do, that mental illness is somehow a gift. Gift of the gods they say. I gave up all notion of romance when I ended up in a hospital room with doctor and nurses using paddles to start my heart. This illness, this disease of the mind, was trying its hardest to kill me and as far as I can tell there is no great evidence of creativity or genius after death.

I started taking my medication regularly, even though on the medication I no longer felt like writing poetry, or writing anything for that matter. I put the romance behind me to stay alive, and that included my desire to be a poet and identify with the ill geniuses, creative and otherwise. I married my boyfriend and lived a pretty quiet life for some years. My psychiatrist at the time said I was “too well” to be mentally ill and said that my previous psychotic episodes were caused by trauma. He took me off all medication. Within one year, I was having conversations with God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit. I believed the second coming was just days away and I spent six months believing I was a healer. I made cakes. I made more cakes. I made three cakes a day. I gave them to the mailman. I gave them to everyone living in our apartment building. I believed my cakes could cure anything from cancer to MS. I wanted everyone well. The hall of our building smelled like a bakery for months. I ended up in the E.R. with suicidal thoughts, and that led to a diagnosis of paranoid schizophrenia.

It took almost twenty years to discover the root of my problem, but here we were, my husband and I, with a diagnosis that seemed bigger and scarier than either of us knew how to handle. The two words paranoid and schizophrenia even sound scary. Having them placed on me as an identifier as in, “I am someone with paranoid schizophrenia,” was almost more than I could take.  But as with any illness, you keep moving forward – a step here, a movement there, a jump, and then without realizing it you have been living with that illness for a month, six months, a year, ten years, and you go on.

Even though I had received my bachelor of arts long ago, I was never one to give up learning. I enrolled in several poetry classes at UCLA’s Online Extension and Gotham Writer’s Workshop, and I even joined a local poetry group. I was rusty, but I wasn’t dead. I started publishing again and getting support and feedback from poets I trusted and respected. I applied and was accepted to an MFA program.

Once in the MFA program, I was required to take classes beyond poetry. Having never thought of an idea for a novel in my life, I avoided the fiction classes and took a non-fiction class. I fell in love with the longer form. I fell in love with writing essays instead poems. I asked to change majors but found out I would have to start the program over. I wasn’t willing to do that. I kept taking writing classes online, but this time they were non-fiction classes instead of poetry classes. I started to publish some of those pieces. And the more I learned, the more I wanted to write about what I saw, how I felt, and responses to popular culture and the world around me. I thought my biggest obstacle would be going public with my new diagnosis, but that wasn’t it. My biggest obstacle was a symptom of the illness I had thus far been hiding.

I went public with my diagnosis in an essay posted to Facebook by a mentor and friend. The post was how all of my friends and my husband’s family found out about me having paranoid schizophrenia. My husband and I planned for a year before we agreed to the announcement date. We thought people would disappear. We thought people would be angry, confused, and we braced ourselves for people making an exodus from our lives. Well, people were far more graceful than we could have imagined and if those two words that make up my diagnosis scared anyone away, we haven’t missed them, but what all this writing and exposing of myself did was make me hyper-aware of my symptoms.

Paranoia means I can’t publish essays that devel into my feelings about this president or any other. I am terrified of openly criticizing corporations; I fear their reach and power is so much bigger than a person like me. I’m not currently suffering from delusions like that the government is wire taping me (I have believed this and feared it in the past), or that I am in contact with aliens or hearing the voice of God. I do not hear voices at all. But I do live in a fragile state where I am afraid of what people will do to me if I oppose them, challenge them, or offend them.

Living with paranoia is my biggest challenge as a writer/artist. Not being able to fully express myself because I fear being targeted by internet trolls, the government or large corporations can keep me silent, and it can kill creativity. I might not be able to speak up, but I’m grateful my creativity isn’t dead.  The proof of it is for my eyes only in a folder that sits on my hard drive where only me and James Bond, or someone posing as him, can gain access.

I Need to Drop the Comparisons and Just be Me.

22 Thursday Feb 2018

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

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I watched a video today by a life coach who has spent twenty years working with what she called, “creatives.” Her message was about getting unblocked and doing the work you are meant to do. One of the things she said was that some people have all the tools and all the resources, but they don’t do the work. I thought to myself, “that’s me!”

I have a writing coach; I participate in many Facebook groups for writers, I go to writing conferences, I buy resource books about writing, I have a writing buddy, and on and on but I have a difficult time sitting down in my chair every day to write.

I feel like I am one of the best-prepared writers that I know of who isn’t producing essays, or articles, blog posts, or working on a book. Boy, do I have the tools, though. At this point, I could easily be a writing coach for someone else, and I make an excellent writing buddy that is good at sharing resources, but there is resistance on my part to putting words on the page.

When do you blame the lack of motivation which is a symptom of schizophrenia, and when do you accept that you have something else going on? That is the thing with schizophrenia; it is hard to determine if you are experiencing a symptom or a variety of symptoms or if there is something else holding you back, causing anxiety, keeping you at home, etc.

I don’t think anyone thinks it is easy to have a mental illness, but the things that are difficult about it aren’t always obvious.  I think everyone would recognize that psychosis, or hallucinations, or hearing voices, etc. are difficult to manage. But the other symptoms, like anxiety, depression, social isolation, lack of motivation, weight gain (from medications), health problems (also from medications) make creating a “normal” life challenging too.

I know that a lack of motivation is a common symptom of schizophrenia, but when I look back over my days where I haven’t accomplished much, I think to myself, “You are lazy.” When I compare myself to other writers, I tell myself, “You should be doing that too! Look at them; they are so much more accomplished than you.”

I think that self-talk is possibly the biggest hurdle of all because in that self-talk is the comparison of me to others. Most of the people I know on social media and in real life do not have schizophrenia (a few of them do), and yet, I find that I compare myself to them all the time. Comparing ourselves to others is never a healthy pass time, but it can be extremely detrimental when you have a giant obstacle to overcome that many people do not.

I like to pass myself off as someone without a mental illness. I like to blend into a crowd or participate in everyday activities with others, but the truth is, I can’t always do that. I am not capable of planning out a day and anticipating what my symptoms will be. I have good days and bad days. I have days where I am overrun by symptoms and days where I am almost symptom-free. How then, with this reality can I compare me to someone else…apples to oranges.

I don’t know what it is like to work from home with small children or to work from home with chronic physical illness; I only know what it is like to be me; a person with schizophrenia who likes to imagine nothing is holding her back. Well, there is a hurdle I have to jump every day, most people have one, but if it isn’t the same height as mine, or the same width as mine and my legs are shorter, and I can’t run as fast, is it the same hurdle we are jumping? Nope. I need to learn to jump my hurdles and stop looking in the other lane at the runners who are faster or can jump higher than me.

Broadening the Narrative of Severe Mental Illness

30 Tuesday Jan 2018

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

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*I am not referring to the horrible and tragic stories where family members have tried again and again to get a loved one help and have been unsuccessful (those stories need to be told over and over until we can change the system).

It seems remarkable to me that there is still stigma and stereotypes that are so prevalent surrounding mental illness. I feel like everywhere I turn someone is writing a memoir, essay or novel with a mentally ill character. The most common stories involve a child of a mentally ill parent or a parent of a mentally ill child. The stories an adult child of a mentally ill parent can tell are very different than the stories someone can tell about themselves. The same is also true when parents write about their children.

I understand how scary a mentally ill parent’s episode of psychosis can be to a child. I also understand the grief associated with having a child go from one level of functioning to another, but somehow other stories need to be told as well. I’m not saying these stories aren’t important or true, only that they seem to be the most common narrative. Many of them lack originality and don’t further our understanding of the range of what people with a severe mental illness are capable of doing, being, contributing.

I know with mental illness comes pain, sorrow, suffering. I know that those things do not just visit the person with the illness. I know these stories can interest a reader, but I think we need to advocate for and support writers who have a severe mental illness and help them tell their stories whenever we can (if you love someone with schizophrenia or schizoaffective disorder, please encourage them to write). Even with the surge of writers brought on by the Internet and digital culture, I feel like there still aren’t enough people who have a severe mental illness telling their stories, what their lives are like and their successes, dreams, etc.

It’s frustrating that editors seem to either love the “feel good story” or the “sensational story.” When I say a “feel good story,” I mean that I or someone else is an inspiration to others rather than just a common person doing their thing. When I say “sensational,” I mean that the editor wants me to include the details of hallucinations, delusions, etc. even though that isn’t always a huge part of having schizophrenia. It is the worst part, I will admit, but not always the most frequent symptoms especially if the person is on antipsychotics and isn’t medication resistant.

I will do my part to get more stories out there. If you have a unique story, or your loved one has a unique story, I will share resources with you to help get you/them published. We can either communicate via Skype or e-mail. Hit me up; I’ll help if I can. Let’s change this narrative and give a broader perspective of severe mental illness.

Ramblings About Identity, Brand, Courage and Fear

28 Sunday Jan 2018

Posted by in mental illness, schizophrenia, Uncategorized

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My husband told me that when he was in college, many of the architecture students would dress in black turtlenecks, and black pants. It was what students wore to look like architects. Many people that are poets and artists do the same thing, they try and develop a “look” so everyone will know their preferred identity as an artist.

On social media, people frequently try to “brand” themselves. I think this is quite successful if done intentionally or not. I know if you showed me a hundred posts written on social media there are several dozen people who, without any identifying information, I would know because of the way they said something or the words they used to say it. Some people who I have followed for years just have their own style of writing.

I don’t have a unique style on social media. I post other writer’s books. I post other writer’s articles. I post workshops and classes put on by writers. I sometimes will post a call for submissions, writing contest, or a residency. So many times I have posted something political, either something that outraged me or an article I read on an online news source, only to take it down within a few minutes to an hour later. A few years ago, I posted much more personal stuff on social media (I can tell by the memories that Facebook shows me on a daily basis), but I stopped that when I started using social media as a networking tool.

I know why I am willing to write my inner life and daily happenings on a blog but not on social media. I am afraid of the “call out culture” on social media, and what people will think, do, or say. I have strong opinions on most of the things happening in our society right now. I have strong opinions about politics, about disability, about the use of the word, “schizophrenic” (which I happen to see far too often). I have strong opinions about a lot of things, but I am not willing to fight and take heat for those opinions. I know it sounds like I am a coward, but it has to do with schizophrenia.

Making enemies (which seems to be easy online these days) and getting threats (I know many writers this has happened to) is not something I can tolerate when I already battle paranoia. So many people tell me how brave I am and how courageous I am and honestly, those words make me feel like a fraud.

I think it is easier to talk about living with the most misunderstood and feared of the severe mental illnesses than it is to post something I feel strongly about on social media. Although people often unfriend me when they find out I have schizophrenia, they don’t usually argue with me about it, the worst thing that happens is people give me advice about how to “cure” it or “treat” it or they will go on a tangent about “Big Pharma.”  I can handle most of those things, although they are disheartening, at least they aren’t hateful.

I think people who put what they believe out there in public no matter what the consequences, are bold, brave and courageous. We all have a different tolerance for what we create and share about ourselves, and that is what makes the landscape of the Internet such diverse terrain – you can find every type of person, opinion, lifestyle, hobby, obsession, etc.

No one should feel alone on the World Wide Web, and as far as bravery and courage go, well that means something different to different people. If you want courage and bravery to be part of your identity or “brand” you can’t count on it the way you can an outfit that defines you as an artist or architect. Bravery and courage have to do with our own tolerance for dealing with fear and what one person fears, another person craves. I happen to fear too much and crave very little.

Schizophrenia: Writing and Writers

26 Friday Jan 2018

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

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

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

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

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

Bethany Yeiser

Allie Burke

Mike Hedrick

 

Hope for the New Year

27 Wednesday Dec 2017

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

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My husband and I sit down every year before January, 1st and write down our resolutions for the following year.  On New Year’s Eve we look at the list, we wrote twelve months earlier. We are usually a little bummed out because there are only one or two things from our list that we managed to accomplish. The past two years, those accomplishments have been big things (like financial planning), but still, most of our list is left undone.

This year, we decided to do something a little differently and hopefully when we look at what we have written twelve months from now, we will be pleased instead of disappointed. This year, instead of a list we are going to write down our intentions, and choose a word for the year.

My word for the year is WORK, and my husband’s word for the year is INSPIRATION. What does work mean to me? I want to be stable enough and committed enough to commit wholeheartedly to writing. I have started a memoir with a writing mentor (she expects at least ten pages a week starting in the New Year). I would also like to keep up with this blog and sell a few essays every month. For me, that is a lot of writing and a lot of work, but I feel hopeful that I can achieve it. I am also working together with my husband on a project that is the basis for his word, and I can’t wait to share the details, but we need to have it partially completed before I do that. One hint, it also has to do with writing (so excited about this!)

Underneath our words, we wrote our intentions. We both included things like getting out more, socialize more, and watch less news. To my list, I added to be on social media less and to read more books and essays. Reading more is the only place I included details – I would like to read a chapter a day and an essay a day (excluding blogs – I will read as many of those as I have time for).

2017 was a tough year for so many reasons. One of which was that my husband and I had almost continuous health problems throughout the year, add that on top of schizophrenia and my husband’s chronic illness and we were feeling miserable, worried, and down most of the year. When you throw in the daily news of disasters, terrorism, healthcare, etc.  Oh, boy! It is surprising that we were able to manage a low-grade depression and not a full on can’t-get-out-of-bed depression. When people say, your health is the most valuable thing (including mental health) they aren’t kidding. If you don’t have your health, it is difficult to get anything else accomplished or to focus on other things.

So, with that in mind, the best I can wish for all of you in the New Year is a healthy mind and body. Here is to a symptom-free year from your head to your toes (a New Year miracle, I know, but let’s aim high!)  To 2018 and beyond!