Work- Attitude really is everything

Those of you who don't already know, I recently got a new job. It isn't anything glamorous, but it is in the behavioral health field, which is the field I want to progress in, and they hired me regardless of my lack of experience. I am excited to finally get my foot in the door and with tuition reimbursement as one of their benefits, I am also excited to go to school and earn my degree in either clinical psychology or counseling.

I work for a non-profit at a transitional/homeless shelter for men. Its not a typical shelter, where random men crash for the night and then are never seen again. The men at this shelter are semi-permanent residents who call the center their home during their stay there. Some are fresh out of prison with somewhat disturbing charges, some have been homeless for years and have called the center their home for a long time, others, not as long. Others are young, much younger than myself, most of them being young men who simply aged out of the foster care system and had no where to go.

There are a lot of cons that I can see so far. The graveyard shift is enough to make most people weary. The small, gray, florescent-lit office that I am confined to most of my shift leaves a lot to be desired. The property rounds made through out the middle of the night, in not such a great neighborhood, is straight-up frightening. And the employee moral, not to mention the moral of the residents, is the worst I have ever seen in any place that I have worked in.

And on top of all of that, my first day was uncomfortable to say the least. Knowing the background of many of these men (convicted rapists... even a murderer just released from a 20 year sentence only 3 days ago, etc), it was hard to feel safe and comfortable as these men stared me down, many of them showing a lot of anger and aggression expressed on their faces. I was really upset after my first day and wondered if this job was worth having and if I was going to be safe while doing it. I wondered if perhaps the behavioral health field is the field for me or not. I wondered if maybe I'm just a glutton for punishment, constantly surrounding myself with unstable people because it is what I have become used to. The job that I was so excited to get suddenly became a major source of stress during the rest of my Sunday, all of Monday, and all of Tuesday before my shift started.

Last night was my first overnight shift and I made a promise to myself to give these men a chance. I promised to go in with a positive attitude and be happy and cheerful, regardless of my previous judgments. But as I pulled up in the parking lot at 11:30 pm, the same feelings of fear and anxiety began to rise up within me again, and I practically dragged my feet as I made my way to the depressing office that I now work in.

The night was slow, and boring, since the men are asleep during at least 80% of my shift, but I was happy to be free of the stares. Only a few stragglers drifted in shortly after midnight and the rest of my shift was uneventful. One young man, mid-20s I would say, came in from work around 12:30 am, asking for a 4 am wake up. I commented how little sleep he was getting, especially considering how tired he already looked. All he said was, "I get 3 1/2 hours of sleep a night. I go to school full time and work full time with overtime. I'm exhausted, but I know it will be worth it. I'm excited to have the opportunity to make something of myself."

After his brief explanation, he simply left, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Here this young man lives in a homeless shelter, works constantly, whose only mode of transportation is a bicycle, and only has 3 1/2 hours to recover from his 20 hour days... and he is grateful for the opportunity he has to do it.

Wow...

I don't know about you, but it really makes me think. It forced me to take a look at my life and the things that I have been blessed with and the many wonderful things that I am ungrateful for. It also forced me to take a second look at how I had judged these men from my only experience of them thus far... that being my first day.

I decided right then and there that I must have something to learn from these men, regardless of their past transgressions. After all, I've made my share of mistakes, and still turned out to be a pretty decent person. Was I simply too hasty in making my decisions about them?

As the men woke up, made their way to the dining room for breakfast, and lined up at my table to take their morning medications, I made it a point to be genuine and kind to each and every one of them, even the ones that gave me the frightening stare-down my first day and the ones I know to be convicted rapists and whatnot.

I greeted them cheerfully, asking them how they slept, what their plans were for the day, made small talk with them, joked, and made it a point to remember each of their names (that will take a while, there are 85 residents after all).

It was amazing to see how many of these men were caught off guard by my interaction with them, like they had never been talked to that way, or had never had anyone (or at least a woman) treat them like they were just normal people. Many looked at me like I was crazy when I greeted them, and shot me dirty looks. But as I continued on with the questions about them and kept a good attitude, they actually started to smile and open up a little bit. One man even commented that he was going to like waking up to see me in the mornings. How sweet is that?!

Please don't think that I am saying any of this to brag or to boast about myself. My point is, on Sunday I was ready to quit, not wanting anything to do with the "types" that lived there. But then I made a conscious decision to change my attitude and leave behind my judgments, and you know what? It was a pretty awesome morning and I can tell that I made a difference in a lot of the men's lives today :)

This is what I've wanted for a really long time. I've wanted a chance to make a difference in this world, even if it was just in the smallest of ways or to only one person. And it seems that I have found it.

I am GRATEFUL for the OPPORTUNITY I have to learn and grow with these men and live up to my job title as a "Support Partner". I am grateful that I had gained enough self-awareness when I talked to that tired guy with the 4 am wake up and was able to then change my perspective and change my attitude, and that by changing those things, and putting a genuine smile on my face, I was able to brighten someone's day, even just a little. Oh, and my day too :)

My Book :)

Its been a while so I thought I would put up a quick post.

I've started my book! Yay!

Anyways, I had started a book about my life, yet kept running into problems (writer's block, bad memory, etc) and nothing was getting done.

So I pretty much gave up. Thought maybe I had more to learn and discover before writing the book, and I left it alone.

One night I was laying in bed. I think its safe to say that it was around 2 am, when I suddenly had an idea for a fiction instead (although as I write, I realize that I really am writing about myself and my relationship with my mom). Its funny, I really have learned a lot about myself, and at times I can't help but laugh out loud reading what I wrote. I think I wrote 3 chapters the first night.

Maybe everyone should write a fiction... because since you're the one writing it, then I have no doubt that parts of you will come out on the pages. Just a thought ;)

Anyways, now I have about 11 chapters done, even though I had to skip ahead, so I have chapters from the beginning and chapters from the middle/end done.

I'm still pretty excited. Every time I write a chapter I read it to my husband, who I'm sure now knows the plot by heart. He assures me that its good, I hope he's not just lying to be nice.

So I won't get into the plot... you're going to have to wait for the book. I have a goal to have it done and sent to publishers by the end of the year. I will tell you a few things about the book however....

I want this to be a book that anyone could relate to, even if they have never met, or will never know some who suffers from Schizophrenia. I am doing this because I want to reach the people who have no experience with it, so I can help them understand. And the people who do have experience with it, can have something to relate to.

Anyways, here are some of the points that I want to make in the book.

-How negative stigmas attached to Schizophrenia keep sufferers from seeking help.
-How family and friends of Schizophrenics are effected by refusal of treatment.
-How Schizophrenics often suffer lonely lives because of friends and families abandonment.
-How at times, the only way for loved ones to lead their own happy life is to say goodbye.
-Raise the question of: Who is capable of being held accountable? At what point should there be intervention if any at all?
-The HUGE ripple effect that this disease causes in people's lives.
-That Schizophrenia is a disease, no less than Cancer, yet there is still so much taboo thinking attached to it amongst the general public.
-The possibilities of the outcome of non-treatment and possibilities of outcomes with treatment.
-The power of choice and taking responsibility for our choices.

That's it for now, there is more, but that's what is coming off the top of my head.

I will admit that I am biased. I don't think its a secret that I am more in favor of involuntary treatment rather than no treatment at all. However, in this book I am doing my best to show the reader ALL the viewpoints and remain as neutral as possible so that the reader can come to their own conclusions based on what they read.

Cross your fingers for me! How cool would it be if my book became a best seller?! Hey, it could happen!

The Fourth of July!

It occurred to me today that it is July 3rd, the day before Independence Day and the day before Susan's birthday. She will be 61 this year.

Growing up, the Fourth of July was never a day of celebrating. While we would have cake and ice cream in celebration of Susan's birthday, no plans were ever made to celebrate the National Holiday. While other kids went off with their parents to park roadside and watch fireworks, we were stuck at home, usually watching whatever sitcom Susan was into at the moment.

Its not that we didn't want to go see the fireworks, take trips to the lake or grill on a Bar-B-Que, It was that Susan didn't want to.

Because of Susan's illness she avoided being in public at all costs. I always found that funny, since she could hear the voices anywhere she was, whether is be home or the grocery store. I never understood why she avoided people if she heard them all of the time anyway.

Anyways, whatever Susan wanted to do, we did, it was her Birthday after all. At the same time we were deprived of celebrating what most Americans would consider a big Holiday.

None of this is to say that we never tried to get Susan out of the house. When we all had jobs and were bringing in money we would offer to take her out to dinner. We would promise her that we wouldn't let anyone talk about her. We would tell her that we would park the car away from the others so that we could see the fireworks. Of course, none of it ever convinced her, and the night would year after year would be spent by her side, in our house.

When we were teens, and Royce had the freedom of driving, we would contemplate getting into the car and sneaking off to find some fireworks. It never happened. The guilt of leaving Susan alone on her birthday, or any other time for that matter, was heart wrenching for us.

Its little things like this that really make me realize how much Susan needed us, especially for emotional support. While most mothers are there for their children in times of need, we were there for Susan. Without us she had no friendship, no love. Without us we knew that she would shrivel into a severe state of depression and spend her days slowly dying in a darkened room all alone.

As we all got older and began to get out on our own and live our own lives, the guilt and resentment I felt for Susan only deepened. Anytime I went off with friends or my husband at the time, the entire night would be spoiled with internal dialogue buzzing in my brain. "You're a horrible daughter", I would think, "Who do you think you are to have fun when your mother is all alone?" By the time I would arrive back home, little remembrance of the fireworks and fun would remain, only the daunting thoughts that filled my head.

Many times, I found it less painful to be stuck at the house with Susan rather than go out and have fun like most people my age would have. Dealing with the monotony of our house was much easier than dealing with the remorse of leaving Susan behind.

Looking back, I am saddened to see how much time and energy I wasted on pitying her and her lonely life. For I truly created a lonely life for myself by doing so.

It is said that we must all be responsible for all of the things that have happened in our lives. We all have made choices and each choice has a consequence. In taking responsibility for the lonely life I have created for myself, I still feel that I cannot hold Susan accountable for where she was in her life.

While I am mentally and emotionally capable of making decisions and accepting the consequences that come with them, I feel that Susan was not. Her emotions so incredibly crippled and broken, her mental state, so disfigured that it was incapable of grasping reality.

Would it be fair to say that Susan was responsible for her lonely life? I think not, that is my personal opinion though. When you think about it from her point of view, would you want to surround yourself with people who openly gossip about you and say hateful and hurtful things right to your face? If you were surrounded by that, would you also make it a point to stay within the walls of your home so as to avoid all the hurtful words? In all honesty, I think I would. I would hide away too.

In my journey of forgiving Susan and accepting her illness I find more and more that looking at the world from her point of view is the most beneficial way to reach my goal of total forgiveness.

Perhaps, if you have someone to forgive and are having a difficult time, it may benefit you to live their life from their point of view sometime. Just a thought :)

Until then, have a great Holiday and enjoy the lake, grilling, fireworks, friends, family, whatever it may be. As for me, I am sure that much of my night will be full of the same old internal dialogue that has been rambling in my brain for many years come every Fourth of July. Funny how when someone is no longer in your life, they are always there.

Story Time: Church

In my new journey of writing my book about my strange life, I have found it hard to simply start writing away. While many different stories and memories pop up in my head, I am having a difficult time linking it all together. For now, I have been writing my stories and memories down. I will link them all together in my book later. For now, here is one for you to read if you have got the time...

"Church"

I never understood why Susan ever went to church. She despised every person she came across, especially the church members, with the Bishopric always being at the top of her list for the most hated.

I recall a very vivid memory of an outing to church with Susan when I was 9 years old. At this time, we had had little to do with the church. My parent's divorce and all of the issues that led up to it left very little desire to seek any kind of spiritual enlightenment.

For whatever reason, one Sunday, Susan took me to church. As usual, we sat in the over-flow area, in the very back away from the pews. I hated how she insisted that we sit on the hard, metal, chairs for what seemed like hours as the Sacrament Meeting carried on and on.

As usual, my hair was tangled and un-brushed. My dress was something that resembled a Navy Blue, crushed velvet, garbage bag and It made me uncomfortable and sweat. Looking down at my shoes I could see where the white leather of my tennis shoes had turned to a wrinkly and dingy brown. Looking about I could see all the other people, wearing bright, cheerful dresses and freshly shined dress shoes. How I envied them and there beautiful clothes. How I envied them and their perfect appearance.

My concentration was broken when I heard the muttering begin, "You're nothing. You lose, I win." Without even looking up I knew what was happening. There Susan sat, shaking her head is disagreement, as usual, muttering strange ramblings under her breath. "You are nothing!" she shouted as the surrounding church goers looked to see what all the fuss was about. She continued to shake her head, saying hateful things to whoever it was she was talking to. As her voice gradually got louder and louder, I could feel more eyes upon me. People looking at me as if I was the one who was rambling.

I looked up at Susan. She had that wild, fiery look in her eyes again. Her matted hair striking her cheeks as she shook her head violently back and forth. "You're all Looooosers! She called out, "You're sick, you think you're better than me? You're evil! You're corrupt! Stop persecuting me. Leave me and my family alone! Evil fucked up sickos!!"

The stares were too much for me to handle. The look on Susan's face was too much for me to handle, and I quietly got up out of my chair. At that moment I prayed to God that he would make me invisible. I looked down at my dirty shoes and ragged dress as I held my head in shame, walking towards the door.

I slipped out into the lobby as I heard Susan's voice fade behind me. "I've got to get out of here" I thought, "I need to hide where she can never find me." The lobby was brightly lit and empty but I knew I had to go somewhere that Susan couldn't simply walk out and get me. As I walked down the hallway, a dark staircase was to my left. Not totally sure what it led to, I followed it anyway. I would go anywhere to escape from the shame and embarrassment of Susan's wild behavior. Each step felt like some kind of victory. Every step I took was just another step away from her and the stares.

At the top of the stairs was one single door. Upon opening it, the stair way lit up, from the light that illuminated the second story room. I entered the door and found a long, narrow room. A single green pew stretched the length of it and faced a long window. Looking out of the window, I could see that I was above the pews of the chapel. I could see the podium and the organ, the Bishopric intently listening to the speaker on the microphone whose voice echoed through the speakers above me.

Afraid of being seen I walked to the pew and lay down. I rolled on my back and stared at the ceiling tiles above me. "Why does she have to do this?" I thought, "Why does she always have to embarrass me?" I lay there, thinking about the looks on people's faces. The look on Susan's face. Even the ceiling tiles seemed to have eyes, throwing sharp, judgmental darts into my soul.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I lay there thinking about Susan and how much I hated her. I was so angry that she brought me here. It was as if she had brought me to church just to have the opportunity to once again publicly humiliate me.

I turned on my side, facing the window and curled up in a little ball. I felt so lonely and small. I thought if I could curl up enough I could just shrink and disappear and no one could ever stare at me again. I closed my eyes and prayed, asking God to take me away from this living nightmare.

My mind went blank as I heard the organ from the chapel play music, and the congregation began to sing in unison "The Battle Hymn of the Republic." I intently listened to the song and all at once I felt so peaceful. It was as if the only thing that really existed was me and the music and I felt so happy being so isolated, being in my own little world.

Abruptly I sat up. My ears perked up as I heard a familiar voice. It was Susan. I looked around only to see that I was alone, yet her voice continued. I questioned what I was hearing, as I could hear her loud and clear, yet there was nothing to show evidence of her presence. The voices of the congregation and the music of the organ began to trail off, and it was then that I realized that her voice was very real, and that it was coming from the microphone.

I began to shake as I stood and walked to the window. I could feel my heart pumping faster and faster with every step that I took. I came to the window and looked down. There at the podium was Susan, microphone in hand.

"You are all evil! You should be ashamed of yourselves! Because of you my daughter is out walking the streets and she'll never be seen again. Someone took her! You're all evil! Why do you persecute us? Why do you want to hurt us? You're all Losers! I win!"

I thought, "I must be dreaming, this isn't happening, I'm dreaming." The moment felt so surreal, almost as if it were a dream. I looked down at Susan, as the men of the Bishopric began to surround her and pull her away from the podium. Kicking and screaming, they carried Susan out of the side door, the congregation left in a state of confusion as their commotion roared faintly through the speakers.

I stood there staring out of the window. I couldn't move. I wasn't sure of where I was or what I had just seen. Had I fallen asleep and dreamt this whole fiasco? Was I ever even at church at all? I slowly backed up and sat back down on the pew behind me.

Slowly sensations began to return to my body. The light breeze of the air conditioning grazing my tear-soaked cheeks. The weight of my body sinking into the pew. The rough material that rested beneath my fingertips. They all came back as my mind re-entered the room. It was then that I realized that what had just happened was in fact real.

I sat there for a minute, not sure what to do. I knew I had to do something, these people thought I was missing and out walking the streets. I had to get down stairs before there was anymore of a scene.

I opened the door and peered down the dark stairway, my heart racing in my chest. Every step down those stairs were crippling as more and more of what had just happened sank in. Upon taking my last step, and finding myself in the hallway, there was still no one to be found. I was alone.

I quietly walked out into the lobby and stood silently. To my left was two double doors that led out to the parking lot. The bright sun flooded in and I could feel its warmth. They looked so inviting, as if beckoning me to come to them and go outside. Once outside I could run away and hide. Maybe they would never find me, maybe someone would come take me away and I would never be seen again.

To my right was the hard and dark double doors leading back into the chapel. The doors could have been the gateway to hell as far as I am concerned. I could hear the hushed commotion that was still going on just beyond the doors. The voices of all the people in the cheerful clothes and shiny shoes. I knew that going through this door would mean going back to Susan, going back to the shame and embarrassment, and stares. Going back to the woman who I hated so much.

Even at 9 years old, I knew that I could not run away. I knew that running away would only make the situation worse and that I had to make things right. I slowly walked to the door and pulled on the large, brass handle. Only opening it a few inches, I peeked inside. everyone was up and out of their seats, chattering about Susan. I looked around as much of the room as I could see when suddenly my searching eyes were met with the eyes of an elderly woman. I stood and looked at her, peeking through the cracked door. She had blue eyes that were magnified by her thick glass lenses.and white hair that was curled up on the top of her head. She had a gentle smile that was so warm and inviting.

We stood looking at each other for what seemed like hours until she lifted her hand and motioned for me to come over to her. I felt as if my feet were rooted into the floor as pure terror took over me. She continued to motion until my body finally surrendered and I slipped through the door and walked over to her.

Her warm hand clasped my shoulder as her gentle eyes looked into mine.

"Was that your mother up there?" She asked. Looking at the floor, my head held in shame, I nodded my head. "Come with me" she said. She led me through the sea of people from one side of the room to the other. Everyone talking, chattering, inquiring about the crazy lady on the microphone and what little girl she was talking about.

Walking through the room it was as if no one even noticed me. As if I was only visible to the gentle old lady. They were so caught up in their chatter and gossip that they didn't even see me, and for that I was grateful. The lady led me to a door and she opened it for me.

I stepped out into the hallway, staring at the floor. As the door closed behind me, the gossip faded and my new surroundings came into focus. I looked up and saw Susan down at the far end of the hallway.

AS I took in the scene being played out, I fell back into a place of shock and surreality. Time seemed to slow down as I watched Susan's dramatic scene play out. I could see Susan screaming, yet she made no noise. I could see the men around her struggling to hold her down, yet I could hear nothing besides a faint buzzing in my ears.

I could see Susan's arms flailing wildly through the air as she fought off the 4 or 5 men who were trying to hold her down. It was a strange thing to see a woman of Susan's strength effortlessly throw the men off of her body. Their ripped clothes and red, sweaty faces only revealed how long they had been at her, trying to calm her down and keep her from hurting anyone.

She threw another man off and he fell to his knees on the floor. Panting, sweating, adrenaline rushing, he looked up and our eyes locked. Without hesitation he stood up and walked quickly over to me. Dropping back down to his knees, he gripped my shoulders in his hands. I looked up at him and could see tears in his eyes. His face and neck was wet and red and his veins protruded from this skin. His shirt had been pulled from its neatly tucked state and his jacket had torn seams.

I could suddenly hear his panting as he knelt in front of me. I could tell that he had been in quite a scuffle. As he caught his breath, he began to speak in a ragged voice, "Laurie, your mom is sick. She needs help. You need to help her."

I looked into his eyes as he spoke and I could see the dramatic scene coming to an end at the end of the hallway.

I looked up and standing next to the man was Susan, staring down at me, with the same redness and sweat upon her face and chest. She grabbed my hand and yanked me off of the floor and we quickly walked outside into the parking lot. I looked back at the old lady, still standing in the hallway, tears rolling down her face. We reached the car and Susan got in as fast as she could. I hesitated to get in but realized that I had no other choice. Still getting into the car she sped off like a bat out of hell, the open door nearly missing another car parked closely by.

As we hit the main road she began to rant again as she swerved frantically in and out of traffic. She ranted about the evil people in the church who were persecuting our family. Her voice was faint as I thought to myself, "Laurie, mom is sick. She needs help. You need to help her."

STRESS!!!

As a child and through out my teenage years, Susan was the only consistent adult in my life. Most things that I either consciously or sub-consciously learned about life and how to handle situations that may arise, were all learned from her and her personal reactions to those situations.

Susan had three ways of handling stress....
1. Eating
2. Sleeping
3. Have a complete mental/emotional breakdown

Yes, this was the example that I learned from, and I unfortunately picked up these reactions to stress as well.

Honestly, I was never taught how one should appropriately deal with stress. While some people journal, take a walk, or get lost in their favorite hobby for a few hours, I automatically go straight to "Mom mode".

I really do react to stress the same way that Susan did. Not to the same degree, however the same nonetheless. While Susan would sometimes sleep 20 hours a day, I will sleep 12 to 14. While she would hide in her bedroom and eat an entire box of donuts, I would veg in front of the TV with a bowl of ice cream . And while Susan would dash to the streets and freak out at the neighbors is a fit of psychotic fury, I simply just "blow up" once the stress inside of me has built up too much and there is no where else for it to go besides "out".

It is frustrating to say the least. I would say that for the most part, given my upbringing, I am actually a very "normal" person. I think the one thing that really sets me aside from most people are my coping mechanisms as far as stress is concerned.

More often than not, when I see others experiencing stress, I see them as handling it in a very healthy way. Oh, how I envy them.

Another issue for me as far as stress in concerned are the physical and medical repercussions. They say that stress is the number one killer in the world and the reason for most medical conditions, whether they be a mild common cold or a fatal heart attack. Even Cancer has been linked to stress. The list could go on for miles.

As for me, when an especially stressful situation arises, a migraine headache is eminent. Sometimes within mere seconds of the stressful occurrence, other times it takes days for the pressure in my temples to finally grow into a full blown migraine that could last for up to 3 weeks.

Also, being only 25 years old, I have a slew of medical problems. Migraines, chest pains, Gull Bladder attacks, Severe Endometriosis, Infertility, and benign, internal growths are among those issues.

I can honestly say with no doubt in my mind that these are ALL directly related to the high amount of stress in my life. I have yet to get a handle on my stress as I am not sure how to appropriately deal with it. Funny thing is, my unhealthy coping mechanisms in regards to stress actually cause me more stress. Being over weight from coping by eating causes more stress. Sleeping too much to cope and never getting what I need to get done done also causes stress. Well, you get the point...

Its funny how who we are are our little miniature parents, whether we like to admit it or not. I think that if everyone was really honest with themselves and really looked at their beliefs, morals, or behaviors, they would see that all those things relate directly back to their parents and their upbringing. Whether they formed their lives around their parents behaviors, or formed behaviors in direct opposition of their parents.

It's frustrating, especially when your parent is completely psychotic. Great to know that 90% of my makeup was molded after Susan. Sigh.... What can I do though? It is what it is.

Try as I might, I always revert back to my bad coping mechanisms and behaviors. It is hard to simply "re-program" oneself.

More and more I find other ways to deal with my stress, however, I know it will take years for me to effectively replace old habits with new ones. Its a long and strenuous process, however, my daughter deserves a good example of what healthy stress management looks like.

So for now, just going along, doing my best to fight old habits and find ways to purposely deal with my stress rather than automatically deal with it the way I always have. Its a journey.

Thanks for reading.

Catching up

Wow, I haven't blogged in a really long time!

Long story short, recent events have pushed me to realize one of my dreams and finally take action towards it, writing a book. And what better thing to write about than my bazarre yet somehow entertaining life?

Really, anytime I tell people a little about my life and the things I have been through with Susan, people end up starry eyed, hanging on to every word I say and are usually full of questions. Sad as it is, Mental Illness and the odd symptoms that accompany it, tend to trigger a lot of interest among the public.

Funny thing is, I don't think my story is all that strange. While I know full well that I did in fact have a very strange and disturbing life experience, one must keep in mind that I was born into it. Logically, I know that my childhood wasn't normal. Emotionally, however, it was very, well, normal, since that it all I have ever known.

Anyways, back to the book thing...

My sister has always been a writer, and I must say, she is pretty darn good at it. For years we have questioned why on earth she never attempted to publish any of her work. Funny that I have always wanted to write, however, always felt that I sucked at it. I thought, "What the heck?" Can it hurt to give it a go, write a book, and see what happens?

There is one problem though...

I have mentally blocked out much of my childhood. While there are still hundreds of very vivid memories, they do not begin to even scratch the surface. More and more I do recall more memories though.

Mental Health experts say that we start to have memories or perhaps flashbacks, to traumatizing events in our lives when we finally feel that we are in a safe place emotionally to be able to experience those things. So more and more, things come back to me, just not enough to really convey my story in the form of a book. I'm not totally sure how to get over this little bump in the road, however, I am hoping that as I write, more and more thing will come up for me.

So here's hoping that for once I finish what I start! Ha ha, yes, I am infamous for getting these great ideas, getting off to a great start, and then slowly let go of them.

I will keep you all posted with the progress! Thanks for reading!

The Company You Keep...

I've been told what I should or shouldn't do my entire life.

I think this is ok when you're a child, since it is a parents' responsibility to tell you what to so that you know what to do. Otherwise you would have just gone and thrown your hand on that hot stove in the kitchen.

My issue was that it never stopped. Well into my teen years and my early adulthood I have been told how to live my life. Even sadder, I always did what I was told regardless of my gut feelings or intuition.

My reason for going out and just doing what I was told was because I did not have faith in my self. I did not trust myself enough to make the right decisions for me. I thought that I was an unintelligent person not capable of making the right decisions for me.

I have been beaten down my entire life, not physically, more of a mental and emotional beating. Beatings that told me that I wasn't good enough, smart enough, and that I was worthless. That my ideas and my feelings didn't matter and that whatever ideas that I had for myself were awful simply because they came from me.

Obviously, this caused to me close up and basically shut my mouth. I lost all trust in everyone and myself. Whatever I had to say, whatever I felt, was bogus because I was a worthless idiot.

This self discovery came to me last July when I attended a Seminar (I have mentioned it in other Blogs) and it really opened my eyes as to why I am where I am in my life. Realizing that I had a choice to not always do what others tell me to do, and doing what I felt was right for myself, for the first time in my life has been a liberating discovery. Realizing that I am an intelligent, capable woman has given me control over my life.

Since then I have had much more faith and belief in my own ideas and my own choices. My confidence has sky-rocketed and I realized that people who do not value what I have to say are simply not worth my time. I have had enough of that in my life and I know that I am beyond that now. I know that being surrounded with those kinds of people does not serve me now, and never will.

I come across people on a regular basis who tell me that my feelings don't matter. I've had people tell me that my feelings are "B.S." when I have been brave enough to open up about them. I have had people complain that I am too negative, or a "downer" when I do express my feelings. I continue to have people tell me what is best for me and that I am not good enough to make my own decisions.

I think there are A LOT of people who have these types of people in their lives, and let me tell you, it does not have to be so. You can make a decision to surround yourself with people who believe in you and your capabilities. You can surround yourself with people who embrace your crazy ideas even though those ideas may fail. You can surround yourself with people who know that the sky is the limit for you and who you know will never hold you back from what you truly want.

I have had a huge support system in my life... a lot of people who have supported me 110% in mediocrity. People who have supported my being a waitress for 8 years (and continue to support me in it) rather than do what I am capable of.

Choosing to have those people out of my life will be best for me in the long run, because I have had those people in my life my entire life, and listening to them has gotten me to where I am today, which is not where I ever pictured myself being.

Why continue to take the beating when you do not have to?

Why surround yourself with people who think they know what is best for you?

You are capable of handling your own life!! Does this mean that you will do everything perfectly?! NO! Will you fail sometimes?! YES! Will you learn from your failures?! I certainly hope so! Does this mean shutting out everyone's ideas?! NO! Take them into consideration, just do what you know is best for you regardless of what they say or don't say! Does this mean you have to do it on your own?! NO! Just make sure you surround yourself with the right people!

I suppose this Blog has nothing to do with Mental Illness or Susan or anything like that, however, I think everyone can learn from it, regardless of your upbringing. I ask that you think about what I have said here. It may save your life. It may save your self esteem! It may save your belief in what you are capable of! Because... YOU ARE CAPABLE OF ANYTHING!!!

Cheesy?! HELL NO! Its the truth! Now get out there and live your life! Have faith in yourself! Take risks! And don't let anyone tell you that what you feel and think is worthless!

Hopefully this Blog reached someone. I suppose its kind of a rant. I am in ranting mode right now so please forgive me!

Here's to a life full of your awesome feelings, opinions, ideas, and crazy, unreasonable schemes! Don't be afraid to put them out there! The people who do not support you in these things are not worth your time, because you are worth so much more.

Trust

I'm pretty confident that everyone has some kind of trust issue. We've all been hurt at some point in our lives, we've all been lied to, we've all had someone back out on us. Question is...

How are your trust issues effecting you?

I have MAJOR trust issues....

I carry many "side effects" of being solely raised by a Schizophrenic. Since Susan always thought that everyone, everywhere was after her and had it out for her, I was raised in that mind set. I was raised not to trust ANYONE, especially men. According to Susan 99% of the male population is either a rapist or pedophile... just for your information... That's a whole other story though.

Susan really believed that the ENTIRE WORLD wanted to hurt her. I really mean that... She really believed that every single person on the face of this planet wanted to hurt her. If someone cut her off in traffic it was because they wanted to cut HER off. It wasn't just a coincidence that some bad driver just happened to cut her off without knowing who she was, it was always a direct attack on her specifically.

Being raised in this mindset, along with hurtful past experiences, hasn't helped me to be a very trusting person. I personally am trustworthy, however, I find it nearly impossible to trust anyone else.

Allow me to answer my own question... How are MY trust issues effecting ME?

First of all, I have very few close and deep relationships. Most of my relationships, whether it be friends or family members, are very shallow and kept on the "surface". Being intimate and vulnerable and trusting of someone, to me, means an inevitable attack.

Secondly, In the few "deep" relationships I do have, I am always on the defense, ready for someone to use something they know about me against me. This keeps me from trusting those who have proven time and time again that they are worthy of my trust. This also effects those around me, since they do their best to be trustworthy and I do not even give them the time of day, although that have worked very hard for it and are deserving of it.

Really, my list of how my trust issues effect me could go on and on and on and on and... well, you get the point.

I have realized that my trust issues do not serve me. They only cause harm in my life and the lives of those around me. It would make sense for me to trust others, because I know it would have a positive effect in my life. (This applies to all of you by the way).

So why is it that I choose to hang on to my trust issues? Because it keeps me safe I suppose, and I also get to be right when someone down the road does end up hurting me.

This is an issue that I would LOVE to offer advice on and shed light upon, however, trust is not really something that I understand yet.

Susan really programmed into my mind, since the beginning of my life, that everyone, everywhere is out to hurt me. Its nuts, I know. However, getting out of that mindset is going to be a very long and frustrating journey for me.

In the meantime, I am making little baby steps. I understand that I have trust issues. I understand why I have them, and I understand how they are effecting me and my loved ones in a very negative way.

As I said before, I am pretty positive that everyone has trust issues, so by entertaining my opinion, I ask that you look at your own trust issues. Are you aware of them? Do you know why you have them? Do you know how they are effecting you? What can you do to stop negative events in your past from corrupting your future and present life and relationships?

Just something I thought I would throw out there, something I have been thinking about the past couple of days and something for you to think about a little bit too...

The Voices

Susan heard voices all the time.

Many people who suffer with Schizophrenia, have been diagnosed, or are somewhat aware of their disorder, become aware that they hear voices. Many learn a lot about their voices and learn to identify them, giving them different names and personalities. They have voices that they like and voices that they don't like. The hear both male and female, and voices that change noticeably between the two sexes. Encouraging and kind voices are just as likely as the mean and demeaning ones. Some hear God Himself, while others hear Satan.

Some voices are given names, or they simply made their names or titles known to the person who is hearing them. I remember reading about a lady who had a "friend voice" named Tiffany. While sitting in her room one evening, she heard Tiffany for the first time. Tiffany simply introduced herself and began to ask questions about her, which made her feel loved and important. Feeling that she now had a friend, she embraced Tiffany and looked forward to hearing from her. They would have conversations and girl talk. They would tell jokes and gossip about the other voices that she heard. She talked about Tiffany on several occasions, as if she were a real person.

On the other hand, I remember reading from another lady, whose voices were vicious and threatening. They would threaten to hurt her or her family if she were to fall asleep. She would contemplate if she herself should kill her family off first so that she could make sure that they went in a more humane way than what the voices had planned for them. Fortunately, she never acted on these thoughts. While to her they were real, she knew logically that they were not. That they were something that her Schizophrenia had created.

I could go forever about the different voices I have heard/read about.

My experience with voices was obviously the ones that my mom heard. My mom was in total denial of her illness, so to her the voices were in fact real, 100% real, and no one could ever convince her otherwise. Over the years I noticed the different voices that Susan heard. While she never identified them, I would listen to her conversations with them and from that, I was able to figure out what kinds of voices she was hearing.

She had a voice(s) that she watched T.V. with. I liked that voice the best. She would joke with it/them and laugh with it/them. She would talk about the show and the different characters and actors with the voice(s). The T.V. voice(s) seemed to be the only friendly one(s) that she had. She was happy talking to the T.V. voice(s). It was nice to see Susan happy every once in a while, while talking T.V and actors with her "friend(s)".

Then there was the "neighbor" voices. Voices that she believed to be, well, the neighbors. These seemed to be the most common. They would talk about her, insult her and make fun at her expense. I always found it very interesting that the insults and mean things that the "neighbors" would say were usually very childish and immature. Things like "Witch warts", "Green Face", "Old Lady", "Four", "Dog" and so on were the most common insults it seemed. This has brought me to believe that possibly, these voices were children.

There were the voices that she heard out in public, they were comparable to the neighbor voices. They were insulting in an immature manner. The grocery store was a mega center for these voices. Trips to the grocery store, when I was a young child, often times led to Security and Police Officers arriving at the scene.

There were the voices that she argued with. When I say argue, I mean, full on screaming-at-the-top-of-her-lungs. I think these voices insulted her the most, and from what I could tell, they were very hateful and especially nasty. She would scream incoherent things at them, and while I understood the individual words she said to them, the sentences made no sense. This made it hard to determine what kinds of things they may have been saying to her.

It is hard to say what REAL people she heard voices from, however, I know that those existed as well. She use to hear my, at the time, 2 year old daughter say very disturbing things of a sexual nature. This led her to believe that my daughter was being molested. Most of the time, she was very offish towards me and always seemed to have an eye on me. I am not sure if it because of what the voices had said about me, or if it was stuff she heard "me" saying. Much of that is unclear.

Convincing Susan that there were no voices was literally an impossible task. Think about it... if you were having a conversation with someone and I did everything that I could to convince you that they weren't really there, would you believe me? I think not. How does one convince another that voices that they really are hearing aren't real? It is a very strange concept to grasp, and many, unless they have personal experience with it, never will.

Hearing voices is the most common type of hallucinations among Schizophrenics. While seeing, smelling, feeling, and tasting things do occur, they are not reported as often.

Schizophrenia is described as a "thought disorder". This has made me wonder... Could people who suffer with Schizophrenia be "hearing" their own thoughts? Think about it. We all have that little voice in our head. Voices that help us relive events and memories. That voice of your Grandfather talking to you when you were a child, for example. The voice of the singer who sings our favorite songs. We all hear them, however, we do not physically hear them as if they were an outside voice.

Is it possible that because of a thought disorder, the inflicted brain may mix up signals and manifest a thought as an outside voice? Strange to think about, however, this is my perception of the voices.

What do you believe could cause this strange phenomenon? When you hear your voices, do they come from inside of your head , or outside as if a person was talking to you? I am happy to report that all my voices of my memories and such are all inside my head and I have complete control over them. I think it is safe to assume that you are the same. If not, you may want to start looking into what it is you are hearing!

Are we all insane?!

They say that one of the definitions of insanity is to do the same thing over and over while expecting different results. So my question is...

Who DOESN'T do that?!

Are we all insane on some subtle level?! I mean, think about it. The married couple who does nothing besides arguing and fighting thinks that one day their marriage will just magically turn around without them putting any action into it. The man who has been working for a promotion for the past 10 years at his job and has not yet put any extra effort forth in order to earn that promotion... ITS EVERYWHERE!!!

I've noticed this a lot in my life. While my little "insane" moments are not something that can be defined as a happening or an event, they are more behaviors and attitudes.

As I had shared in an earlier Blog, going into "victim mode" is one of my little insanities. I have spent the majority of my life as a victim. While living on a daily basis in "victim mode" I always wondered why bad things always happened to me or why things always had to be so hard and wouldn't change. I now know why I spent so many years in distress. It is because I did not change my attitude!

Had I changed my attitude towards life, I have no doubt that then, and only then, things would have started to turn around for me. Living life as a victim was insane. I did the same thing day in and day out and still expected a magic Lamp with a Genie to appear and suddenly give me the life I wanted.

The truth is (And this goes for everyone) that no one's life can change until they do something different. This may mean going to a Marriage Counselor or working harder than any other person in order to earn that promotion. This may mean changing your attitude and outlook on life. This may mean doing things that you have never done before and that make you feel incredibly uncomfortable.

If where you are in your life at this very moment is not where you want to be, I have some good news for you...

YOU CAN CHANGE IT!

It is amazing to know that many countless people live their lives in insanity! Why do people insist on being insane?!

When talking about actual Mental Illnesses, this issue is majorly intensified. In another recent Blog I talked about Anosognosia, or the inability for a Mentally Ill person to recognize their illness. While many Mentally Ill suffer with this harmful problem, I find that many "sane" people do as well.

While it is a nice thought to know that you can change your life by doing things differently, it is not going to be done until one realizes what it is about them that needs to be changed. Unless you know what is limiting you, you will never be able to change it. Much like a Schizophrenic who does not recognize their illness therefore they do not take needed medications. It is difficult to recognize these flaws within yourself and often takes years for one to recognize what it is that keeps them trapped in the vicious cycle of insanity.

I challenge you all to do a little soul searching. Are you living your life in insanity? Are you stuck on the metaphoric Hampster Wheel that seems to get you no where near what you want in your life? Great, you've got that answer down, now keep rolling with it, see where else it leads you.

Here's to a life of Sanity! :)

Diet changes: A cure for Schizophrenia?

I hung out with my sister a little bit today. Normally we don't talk about Susan but some how it came up.

She had said that Susan was GETTING BETTER! Not like, just for the past few months, but her symptoms are significantly and CONSISTENTLY improving!

I was really surprised to hear this and I asked my sister why things seemed to be better.

Apparently Susan is on one of those Blood Type Diets. I'm not sure if any of you have heard anything about the BTDs, But they are diets that are unique to your Blood Type. I have heard good things about them. I have even looked into myself before.

So apparently Susan is really sticking to this diet and new way of eating. Not only is she healthier and losing weight, she is actually mentally more focused and clear and her normally present signs of Schizophrenia are consistently diminishing.

Can a change in diet really be a source for curing Schizophrenia?

Of course, I had to look this up and find out for myself. I'm actually pretty excited by all of this, since besides medication and the usual psychotherapy treatments, I have not heard of any other way to treat Schizophrenia.

After browsing some different websites, these are some of the most consistent findings...

People with Schizophrenia generally have a diet high in Sugar, Carbohydrates, Fat and even Caffeine. Decreasing the amounts of Carbs, Sugars, Fats and Caffeine and replacing them with higher levels of Protein and Fiber has shown improvement in symptoms.

It is known that in general, people who suffer with Schizophrenia, as well as depression, show abnormally low levels of Omega 3 Fatty acids and other essential Fatty Acids.

Since the 1970s studies have shown that when Gluten is cut out of the diet, symptoms noticeably improve. Mental Illness consistently shows a sensitivity to Gluten and is believed to trigger psychotic symptoms.

Increasing intake of Antioxidants will decrease Oxidation that occurs in your body and brain.

"Take a daily multivitamin. Niacin deficiency can produce thought disorders, hallucinations and depression, so taking a megadose of niacin daily can help you reduce these symptoms associated with your schizophrenia. Your doctor will work with you on how much you should get daily. In addition, adequate intake of B vitamins and folic acid is responsible for maintaining the chemical balance in your brain. Increasing your intake can help you achieve this balance, thereby alleviating the severity of your schizophrenia symptoms. Finally, many mental illnesses result in a zinc deficiency, so your doctor may recommend taking a multivitamin containing zinc. In some cases, you may have to take these nutrients separately in supplement form because a traditional multivitamin might not have the high levels of the vitamins that you need "

Find more info at: http://www.livestrong.com/article/248779-how-to-use-diet-as-a-treatment-for-schizophrenia/

Pretty freakin' cool if you ask me. I'm digging this. I mean, EVERYONE, no matter who you are should be on a good diet anyways. Its easy and simple to do and it has shown to have great affects on all different kinds of Mental Illness!

Sigh... however... there is one downfall....

Many times, those who suffer with Schizophrenia are very wary of any recommendations made by Mental Health Care Professionals, even when its just a few simple diets changes. Often times, a delusional person may think that there is some kind of conspiracy being cooked up against them that somehow implements the recommended diets. Also, many delusions revolve around the belief of certain (if not all) foods being poisoned.

Even so, I am pretty happy to hear this news. To know first hand from my sister that there are noticeable improvements when some very simple changes are made.

Spread the word!

Parents... Just a vent.

I have some serious parental figure issues. I've known it for while but lately, since the beginning of our move into my MIL's house, its really been rearing its ugly head.

My husband and I are from two totally different worlds. He is an only child, came from a devout Catholic family who spent practically every minute of the day, out side of work, together. Their threesome was very tight knit and he enjoyed his time, activities and vacations with his parents. They were always there to help him whether it be with money or other things. They were just always there... like... all the time.

Me on the other hand, am the youngest of the 9 children in my family. My family's religious practices were barely existant and we hardly saw each other. We were all always on our own doing our own thing. Our family was estranged, even though we all lived under the same roof. I didn't know my older brothers well and never spent time with them. My dad was always gone for work, and during my teen years had pretty much no involvement in my life. I helped to take care of Susan as if she were my child, so she really was never viewed as a parent at all...

I think you get the point... the list goes on and on... my husband and I are just totally opposites...

But, OPPOSITES attract!

So that's good news. We really get along great. In fact, we are head-over-heels in love with each other!! We have all the same interests, same sense of humor, same hobbies, same hopes and dreams... Our personalities however, are largely based on how we were raised.

Let me cut to the chase, cause I really could go on forever about this...

His mom drives me NUTS! Oh yes, I said it, and I don't regret it either.

She is always in our business, telling us what to do, doing everything in her power to control how we live our lives. Constantly calling, wanting to know where we are and what we are doing. What our work schedules are, did we get our bills paid on time... etc etc...

I on the other hand have a mother that really couldn't care less what I do, where I go or where I work. While she made her opinions about her paranoid ideas very well known, she really minded her own business once I moved out on my own. When I did talk to her, it was brief, "how's the weather" kind of thing, and phone calls were only made when she needed help with something.

I think, and this is just my opinion, that my MIL will always see her son as a little child and my mom will always see me as an adult, or at the very least, her equal.

I really could go on pages and pages about the differences between my upbringing and his upbringing, my mom and his mom, my ideas of what parenting should be and his ideas of what it should be, etc... But I won't...

I've always wondered what having a "normal" mother would be like. Then I take a look at my MIL and the way she is with me and my husband and I am just in shock! Are we ALL nuts?! What is normal anyways? Neither Susan or my MIL is normal by any standards. They are both one extreme to another. One way too involved and the other not ever really involved at all.

Being a mother myself, I often wonder what a "normal" mother would be... I often wonder what I can do to be in the happy medium of where my Mom and my MIL currently are.

So what is right and what is normal? Are us parents just destined to screw up and be crazy no matter what we do?!

Schizophrenia: Science Vs. Religion

Through out my years of discussing Susan's condition, and the matter of Schizophrenia, I have repeatedly been asked the same question... Could Schizophrenia be linked to spiritual possession?

My automatic answer would be no, that Schizophrenia is a mental illness and nothing more. But when I really think about it, and look back at my own personal experiences with Susan, I can't help but wonder if there is any truth to the possibility of possession by an evil spirit.

I am a religious person, but I am not fanatical. While I have a basic belief in Christianity, the majority of my beliefs are based on my own thoughts, feelings, and experiences. I am very interested in people's beliefs of things (or lack thereof) and befriend those with many different religious backgrounds. Religion has always fascinated me, especially because it seems that no one person has the exact same beliefs as any other person on the planet.

I personally, do believe that Possession is possible. I suppose that I believe this based on some of my personal experiences growing up. During my teen years, while moving between different houses and apartments, there always seemed to be a creepy and evil feeling that followed us around. I was not the only one who noticed it. My brother and sister noticed as much as I did and we talked about it on a regular basis. We all had our strange encounters and experiences with the evil feeling, but there are far too many to discuss. We would talk about the "haunting" like it was just another thing that happened that day. We were very frank and matter of fact about it.

There was one house in particular that we believed to be "haunted". Haunted by what, I do not know. I am not saying that there were ghosts in my house, but I am not saying that there weren't. Without going into detail (I could write a full Blog just about the things that happened in that house) I can at least say that a very evil feeling permeated every square inch of that house.

Strange and unnatural noises came from other rooms, the ceilings, walls, etc. We all heard them, and they were bone-chilling. While me and my siblings believed that they were supernatural, Susan did not. It was Susan's belief that the strange noises, especially the ones that came from the ceilings, were due to the "Mexicans who danced on our roof and laughed at her". Whenever there was a lot of noise going on through out the house she would run out in to the front and back yards and examined the roof. She would yell up at the "Dancing Mexicans" or whoever she believed was up there at the time, and ask them why they were bothering us and yell at them to go away and leave her alone. On some occasions she would see the Mexicans on our roof, other times she only heard them.

I only bring up the house because of the "evil" feeling, since possession and evil go hand in hand. It also illustrates some of the reasons I believe that Possession is possible. If evil can come into a house, then why not a person?

After growing tired of the awful feeling in our house, my brother took it upon himself to have a man from our church come and give our house a blessing. I was present, yet skeptical, and to my surprise the energy and feeling in the house vastly improved immediately after the blessing. Susan later revealed something strange to my sister, that during the blessing she felt something inside her stir, as if it were disturbed by what had just taken place. She physically felt something move inside of her. When asked about what she had said later, she refused to have ever made such a comment.

I often wondered through out the years if my mom was possessed. I mentioned in an earlier Blog that during her Psychotic Episodes, her eyes would dramatically change. When Susan was experiencing Psychosis, her eyes looked like they did not belong to her, they were, in a word, Demonic. We have all heard the saying that "The eyes are the window to the soul". If this saying holds any truth, then I can't help but wonder what was in Mom's soul, for her eyes were nothing short of frightening.

I heard a story from an older brother of mine. When he was a teenager, he had a strange confrontation with Susan. Susan is a large woman and possesses little strength. Moving something heavier than 10 lbs was difficult for her. My brother, even as a teenager, is a very tall man. He weighed a nice healthy weight for his height so he had a pretty solid build.

During this confrontation, it is said that Susan picked my brother up off the floor by his throat and pinned him up against the wall, feet off of the floor. Unable to pry her fingers from around his throat, and unable to run away since he had no contact with the ground, he was at Mom's mercy and looked down into her eyes. To his dismay, he found a blank face, mouth hanging open, and eyes that flickered back and forth in her sockets at an unnatural speed. To this day he remains convinced that Susan is possessed by an evil spirit, based on this and other experiences.

The description is strange and since I was not there, I cannot describe any of the story in great accuracy or detail. However, knowing Susan, it is not surprising or unbelievable. During the times that she was experiencing Psychosis, I often felt a very frightening and unsettling feeling as I watched her shout and throw things around.

It is a controversial subject, especially for those who do not have religious beliefs or do not believe in the possibility of spiritual possession. In the online support forums that I follow, religion is NOT a good subject to ever bring up, especially among the Schizophrenics. Religion is met with much resistance and anger and any chance of open mindedness on the topic simply does not exist. However, as I said, based on my experiences, I would not rule Possession out as a possibility.

So which is it? Mental Illness or Spiritual Possession? I personally believe, that they both can exist separately, and can also exist simultaneously in a person. I believe that Susan was both a victim of Mental Illness as well as Possession, based on my experiences of her.

I have been taught, as I'm sure others who have been raised with a religious background, that Satan preys on a person during times of darkness or vulnerability. If a Mentally Ill person is not vulnerable, then I don't know what is! Could it be possible that because of Susan's Illness she was susceptible to being Possessed? I suppose that I will never know.

I know that the question will be asked again and again as I continue to share my story through out my life, and my answer will always be, "I have considered that, but its hard to say". Mental Illness is a very real thing, and Possession? To many, not so much. I guess it just depends on your take of it. While Mental Illness seems a more believable cause, since it is backed up by medical and scientific facts, I would choose not to rule out other possibilities.

Statistics: Poverty, Crime, and Violence

Today I was checking out one of my favorite websites, www.Schizophrenia.com I've learned most of what I have learned about Schizophrenia, and other Mental Illnesses, from this one site. There is information about everything from the symptoms, to laws and Statistics about Schizophrenia. If you ever have some time on your hands, and would like to learn more about Schizophrenia, its a great resource.

While checking out the site, I found some pretty interesting information. Information that I think will help show how serious and negative the effects of Schizophrenia are. Here are some brief facts surrounding poverty, crime, and violence linked to Schizophrenia.

Schizophrenia and Poverty

Approximately 200,000 individuals with schizophrenia or manic-depressive (bipolar disorder) illness are homeless, constituting one-third of the approximately 600,000 homeless population (total homeless population statistic based on data from Department of Health and Human Services). These 200,000 individuals comprise more than the entire population of many U.S. cities, such as Hartford, Connecticut; Charleston, South Carolina; Reno, Nevada; Boise, Idaho; Scottsdale, Arizona; Orlando, Florida; Winston Salem, North Carolina; Ann Arbor, Michigan; Abilene, Texas or Topeka, Kansas. At any given time, there are more people with untreated severe psychiatric illnesses living on America’s streets than are receiving care in hospitals. Approximately 90,000 individuals with schizophrenia or manic-depressive illness are in hospitals receiving treatment for their disease.

Schizophrenia and Violence

People with schizophrenia are far more likely to harm themselves than be violent toward the public. Violence is not a symptom of schizophrenia.

News and entertainment media tend to link mental illnesses including schizophrenia to criminal violence. Most people with schizophrenia, however, are not violent toward others but are withdrawn and prefer to be left alone. Drug or alcohol abuse raises the risk of violence in people with schizophrenia, particularly if the illness is untreated, but also in people who have no mental illness. When violence does occur, it is most frequently targeted at family members and friends, and more often takes place at home.

Substance abuse (i.e. street drugs and alcohol) significantly raises the rate of violence in people with schizophrenia, as is also the case with people who do not have any mental illness. People with paranoid and psychotic symptoms, which can become worse if medications are discontinued, may also be at higher risk for violent behavior.

Schizophrenia and Homicide

In Out of the Shadows, published by John Wiley & Sons earlier this year, I estimated that there are now approximately 1000 homicides a year committed by individuals with schizophrenia and bipolar disorder, almost all of whom were not taking medication at the time of the homicide. My estimate was based on all cases in a metropolitan area of 4 million people for 1 year, then extrapolated to the whole country. Anecdotal evidence suggests that such cases are not unique to urban areas so I think such extrapolation is reasonable. To date, nobody has challenged this 1000/year estimate. Altogether in the US there are approximately 24,000 homicides a year.

Schizophrenia and Jail

The vast majority of people with schizophrenia who are in jail have been charged with misdemeanors such as trespassing.

As many as one in five (20%) of the 2.1 million Americans in jail and prison are seriously mentally ill, far outnumbering the number of mentally ill who are in mental hospitals, according to a comprehensive study. Source: Human Rights Watch

The American Psychiatric Association estimated in 2000 that one in five prisoners were seriously mentally ill, with up to 5 percent actively psychotic at any given moment.

In 1999, the statistical arm of the Justice Department estimated that 16 percent of state and federal prisoners and inmates in jails were suffering from mental illness. These illnesses included schizophrenia, manic depression (or bipolar disorder) and major depression.

The figures are higher for female inmates, the report says. The Justice Department study found that 29 percent of white female inmates, 22 percent of Hispanic female inmates and 20 percent of black female inmates were identified as mentally ill.

Many individuals with schizophrenia revolve between hospitals, jails and shelters. In Illinois 30% of patients discharged from state psychiatric hospitals are re-hospitalized within 30 days. In New York 60% of discharged patients are re-hospitalized within a year.

As you can see, the numbers are alarming. And many of these issues are a direct result of non-treatment, or improper treatment, of Mental Illnesses.

Keeping in mind that the majority of these types of issues are committed by those who are NOT mentally ill is important. Not all people who suffer with Schizophrenia fit into this category. However, I find it sad that any person with a serious Mental Illness, fits into this category at all. I wonder what the numbers would look like if there were better treatments and courses of action to aide those in need?

March...

Ah Spring! A time for new beginnings and new life! I love the spring, especially March. Here in the desert, March holds the perfect weather. Its not too hot, not too cold. The wild flowers start to bloom and driving down a once brown and rocky road becomes so simply wonderful. The purples, oranges and yellows are everywhere, lining the highways and the gravel yards in the neighborhoods. I can honestly say that March is possibly the most beautiful month in all of Arizona!

As much as I love March, it marks a very dark time for me. Two years ago, this March, marks the last time I ever saw or spoke to Susan. It marks a very defining time for me.

Growing up with my mom was strange to say the least. My sister, brother, and I were the heads of the household. We were the ones that kept things functioning. My sister worked a full time job at a Bakery to pay the majority of our bills. My brother and his seemingly optimistic attitude was the glue that held us all together and kept us from killing each other. I had babysitting jobs after school and on the weekends so that I could buy my own necessities and help pitch in to the household finances.

In a very strange, and very real way, we raised Susan. Susan was never capable of taking care of herself, and her dependence on us for love, shelter and food was very apparent. She relied on us to survive, for without us, she would not be able to live a somewhat normal life on her own.

This did not change, even when we all grew up and went our own ways. Simply going to college or moving out with roommates, or on our own, was not an option. For every time you turned around, there was Susan, always needing something; a place to live, a car to drive, a meal to eat, a shower to take... We would take turns bringing Susan in, like a bad fruit cake that is passed around and re-gifted every Christmas. She would spend a few months with a roommate, then at my apartment, then in her Van out in a parking lot, then at my sister's, then at my brother's, and so on and so on in a long and vicious cycle.

In January of 2009, it was my turn. Susan was homeless again. Her illness made her incapable of holding a job, or a place to live for that matter. Her 500 dollar disability check did little for her, and any spending money she had went to car insurance and weekly trips to the Dollar Store.

I never wanted her to live with me, and I always promised myself that each time would be the last, yet time after time, I took her in. I felt an enoromous obligation to taking care of her. The guilt was indescribable and unbearable. She was like a 58 year old child that just never left their parent's house. How do you turn your child away? How do you throw them out on the street to fend for themselves when you know they are not ready?

Seeing Susan alone and homeless was heartbreaking, yet maddening and the same time. I hated her so much that I couldn't stand to even hear her voice, but at the same time, loved her so much that I couldn't stand the thought of her not having a bed to lay on at night.

When I brought Susan in the final time, I already knew that it would not last. Past cohabitation had always ended badly. I knew that it was only a matter of time before I would have to kick her out and it would be someone elses' turn to deal with her for as long as they could stand.

I told her, "Mom, you can come stay with us, but you have to promise to see a counselor. You seem very depressed". Of course, this was only my way of trying to force her into some kind of professional's office. If I had told her that she had to see a Psychiatrist then she would have refused outright. I was still clinging to a thread of hope that somehow, I could help her get the help she needed. She agreed to my conditions, but of course, it never happened.

At first things were fine (that's how it always started out) and my husband didn't even seem to mind her presence. He had never seen Susan "in action" and while he had heard stories of her illness, and knew that there was something not right with her, he seemed happy and content with her staying with us. My daughter was ecstatic at the concept of "GrandSue" staying with us. I, on the other hand, was constantly on edge, waiting for the ticking time bomb to explode.

Over the next few weeks, my house seemed to darken with her presence. Her good behavior started to fade and she started acting strange again. I could hear her conversations with the voices through the walls and wouldn't see her for days at a time while she hid out in her bedroom. I remember lying in bed one night and I told my husband, "Just so you know, she is going to accuse you of molesting Kaitlyn. Get ready".

I can honestly say that 80% of Susan's delusions and hallucinations were of a sexual nature. She was OBSESSED with the idea of children being molested and raped. As a child she used to follow me around the house, interrogating me, trying to find out who was molesting me and who was hurting me. As a teenager she did not allow me to leave the house, since the voices told her that I was performing oral sex on all the male neighbors. She was convinced that I was a sex addict, who was hooked on drugs and alcohol, and ran around with all the men in the neighborhood, having sex with every single one of them. I was an "Evil Slut" in her eyes, and she was not afraid to make it known. As far as she was concerned, any man who would associate themselves with an evil and repulsive person such as me, must be either a Rapist or a Pedophile.

She had filed CPS reports before. Once against my ex-husband, and at other times threatened to report my ex-father-in-law and a guy that I dated for a short period. She filed reports against me, claiming that I was aiding in molesting my own daughter. She heard voices tell her that horrible and unspeakable things were happening to my daughter. It made me sick to my stomach.

Things took a turn for the worst when she started following my husband around the house. It was like the only place he could be alone was the bathroom. I was so mad and I would yell at her, "Leave him alone! You have no right to follow him around! He's not hurting anyone!" It didn't seem to phase her delusions, and her belief in his Pedophilia only strengthened with each day that went by.

One day, as my husband read our daughter a book in her room, Susan stood outside the door, staring at him. Staring as if she was trying to kill him with her eyes. I told her, "Mom, he is not molesting Kaitlyn. Leave him alone. He was kind enough to take you into his house and this is how you thank him? How dare you!" She stormed off in a huff to the kitchen, but that didn't stop me from following her. I was trying to plead with her that whatever it was she was seeing or hearing, was not real, As I had done what seems to be a hundred times before.

She shouted, "Well, SOMEONE around here has to protect her!"

That was it, that was the moment. That was the one thing that I needed to hear. That was my "OK" to get her the hell out of my house.

I don't remember much after that. I remember screaming at her. Unloading all the hatred and rage I had for her. My anger took over and it seemed that I had no control over what was happening next.

That's when Kaitlyn walked in. She saw me, she saw "GrandSue", and she began to cry. Susan pointed, "Look at her! Look at what you are doing to her!"

I lost it....

"Look at what YOU are doing to her! Look at what you have done to me! My whole life I have put up with you, you crazy bitch! NO MORE! I am done with you! I hate you! Get the fuck out of my house! I never want to see you again!"

The memory is very vague. I don't remember many details besides that. I remember shoving her out of my front door, almost knocking her over, and slamming the door in her face. I ran into her room and started to throw all her things into garbage bags. I grabbed her clothes, and threw everything outside on the front step.

After I closed the door for the last time I stopped dead in my tracks. Looking back, I think I must have been in shock. It took me a minute to realize that what had just happened was real. Realization of the situation hit me like a Semi-truck and I crumpled into my husbands arms. The pain and relief I felt was overwhelming. I knew that it was over. I knew that I would never see her or hear her again.

And that was it...

23 years of living in a living hell. 23 years of taking care of her. 23 years of guilt and obligation. 23 years of coexisting love and hate. 23 years of living on the brink of my own insanity... all gone and over within 3 minutes. One argument, one last time. The time that enough was enough and I was not strong enough to hold on any longer. The time I was finally ready to let go and realize that my happiness mattered. That I deserved a normal life, a normal family. It all just fell into place. I was finally done with her, finally free of her...

I cannot say that I am proud of the events of that day two years ago. I cannot say that I was the bigger person in the whole thing. I can say one thing. For the first time in my life I made a choice to let go of all hope for her. I realized her fate and accepted it. I knew once and for all that I could never help her, that no one ever could. That holding on to any hope was only fooling myself.

I let go of Susan. The most wonderful, difficult, horrible, blissful, painful, liberating thing I have ever done in my life. There is not a single day that goes by that I don't think of my mom. There is not a day that goes by that I don't think to myself, "Maybe I could try one last time. Maybe I can still save her. Maybe this time will be different".

I still suffer a deep pain for Susan, I think I always will. If only I could have helped her.