Does Donald Trump Sleep? And Other Questions Of Self-Care.

Tonight, I took a moment to reflect on something a republican said to me: “I’m not a whiny fucking liberal.”

I like generating theories–even if they aren’t correct. At least  I can say I tried to understand.

My assumption here is that the media this person consumes tells him that liberals are whiny. And that there may be differences between the explicitly-stated liberal and conservative view of humanity.

Conservatives, I take it, seem to assume that we can pull ourselves up by our very own bootstraps; that we have no mental, emotional or physical limitations. This is what their comments often suggest.

Liberals, I suggest, take the opposite to be true.

I would try to explain these things to the person who insinuated that liberals are whiny, but this particular person isn’t prone to have productive conversations.

Donald Trump seems like a grouchy, old man to me. However, he does in fact have limits and he knows it. For example, he goes golfing very regularly. This is, I suppose, to let off steam and to refresh and rejuvenate. This is basic self care. Yes, Donald Trump engages in self care.

But, at a more basic, human level, we can ask if Donald Trump eats, sleeps and shits. (We know he has sex!)

All of these things suggest the limitations of humans. We have physical, emotional and mental limitations and needs. Donald Trump, if he is to stay anywhere near sane (which is doubted by some, but I think he’s somewhat sane), needs to attend to these basic needs.

This is the liberal point of view. And it seems true as evidenced in Trump’s behaviors. When liberals “whine,” we are often suggesting that we–and you–are human and have needs that have to be met in order to stay physically and mentally healthy.

Yes, Donald Trump sleeps. Meditate on that. And remind yourself that you also sleep next time you think someone is “whiny.”

 

This Portfolio Is a Relic Of What I Once Was

This is my blog. The rest of this website is my e-portfolio. I made it several years ago. You can browse around and see my various, mostly professional, accomplishments.

At this point in my life, the portfolio part seems to be a relic of what I once was.

Around 2008, I had my first psychotic break. It just hasn’t been the same since then. I was on the path to become an academic–aiming for a PhD in Philosophy, with the goal of becoming a professor. I had to leave school, which I loved, and go through the years-long process of recovery. I don’t know that full recovery from my diagnosis of schizophrenia is possible for me.

I have a long-time counselor who suggests I simply modify my expectations in life; to live life as a disabled person. I resisted that for a long time, but now I think, after various trials and tribulations, that this is wise advice.

I plan to still maintain this blog and keep this website for a while. It goes to show that someone with promise–someone very career-oriented, who excelled in school and work–can become disabled and have their dreams dashed.

People with disabilities are often looked down upon. People don’t often take kindly towards them, especially if one has a disability like mine, which is heavily stigmatized. However, writing is one thing I can do (when I have the energy) and it’s something I love. So, I aim to continue doing that here if and when I can.

The past year has had its ups and downs. I started an online magazine which did pretty well but that I can’t keep up anymore. I tried to start an organization, but I simply cannot do the work necessary to follow through. It’s not my choice to be disabled. I simply am. All the evidence here will show I tried my darndest to be anything but disabled. My family can attest to my disability and the evidence–as well as my family and friends–can testify to my constant desire to try to keep plodding through.

This isn’t a pity party. This is how I feel right now.

For now, I leave you with this image I found on the internet. I post it partly tongue-in-cheek. But it’s how I will be remembered, having been a pretty good philosopher, an award-winning poet, and a “failure” nevertheless.

I Gave It My Best Shot

I just got off the phone with Social Security to report that I have stopped working. Some people in my life know that last month, April, I tried to work. And I really tried.

I ended up in bed for a week and a half. Utterly exhausted, I wasn’t showering or brushing my teeth and I was quickly going downhill mentally.

This was my best shot at working.

Psychiatrists have told me not to work. My counselor has told me not to work. But I got to feeling that perhaps I could work, so I tried. Well, I hate to say it, but the psychiatrist and counselor are correct. I cannot work.

I have done my best to tie up loose ends and get myself back to where I was before I started working–focused on self-care, fitness and keeping myself healthy.

Some people just cannot work. I guess I happen to be one of them.

Transcending My First Memory

I’m going to share with you some things that have been kept quiet in my family for many years. It starts with my first memory. My first memory is of my dad beating my mom. It’s a sad memory and I’ve rarely told it to many people. I can still see my mom, in desperation, trying to fend off my dad.

We never talked much about abuse in my family, but it regularly occurred. It’s time to shine a light on this and move forward.

I am a survivor of traumatic neglect and a witness to domestic violence and child abuse.

I was a quiet and somber child, very observant. I rarely got in trouble. I also experienced a lot of anxiety.

At about the age of 8, I was asked by a judge who I wanted to live with–mom or dad–as my parents went through a divorce. I picked my mom. I thought this would be better and in some ways it was. However, my mom soon married another abusive man, who not only chased her around the room with an ax, but who also abused, in various ways, my two younger brothers.

As a bystander, as a child, I didn’t know what I could do. But when the man my mom married came into my room and told me to pull down my panties, I knew what to do. I pushed him off the bed. But there was little I could do to prevent the abuse happening to my mom and brothers. Occasionally, the man my mom married would want us other kids to participate in abuse and torment. I always refused.

The man my mom married died in a blizzard. I’m sure this was sad for my mom, but it was liberating for me. I attended his funeral and, when a box of Kleenex was passed to me, I looked at it like, “What do I need this for?”

However, I had to live with my dad again for a while. It was during this time I experienced neglect. I was about 12 years old. Although my dad sometimes cooked–and I remember the things he did cook–there was often very little in the fridge. I remember ketchup sandwiches. I even remember stealing money from my dad to buy food from Taco Delight.  Some of my friends’ parents noticed these things and reported them to my mom, who was doing her best to tie up loose ends with the man who had died in the blizzard.

When I was about 13, while living back with my mom, I experienced my first bout of extreme sadness. It was depression.

At 14, I became pregnant. I also moved to a different state–Florida.

Florida has a law which states that every county has to have a school for teen parents. I attended one–now called The Chiles Academy. Of course, I gained a high school diploma, but I also took parenting classes and learned about various kinds of abuse and neglect. I tried to raise my daughter differently from how I was raised. I went by the book. I never, ever wanted her to experience the things I experienced.

My time at The Chiles Academy was great. My relationship with my daughter, I think, was great. After four years–and after meeting many different politicians and leaders–I graduated with a high school diploma.

I decided to go to college. I applied for Daytona Beach Community College (now, Daytona State College). I did fairly well in all my classes–except Math. However, I decided I was ready to transfer, so I applied to Stetson University. I was accepted.

Being a non-traditional, working class, commuter student at Stetson was, well, different. I didn’t come across many other students with my background. Very few of them could related to the experiences of being a young parent.

And, all the while, I was barely treated for the abuse and neglect I experienced growing up.

However, even though I didn’t make too many friends on campus, I did find solidarity and support in the campus culture. Many Stetson faculty, staff and students are involved in the community and social justice activities. I got involved in social justice issues.

I wrote two theses: one on facial affect (for psychology) and one on colonialism (for philosophy).

Not long after I graduated undergrad, my dad got sick with cancer. I had to travel back to Texas to deal with his death.

Soon, I applied for graduate school at the University of North Florida. While there, I did very, very well in academics, teaching and research.

Still I had not gotten help for my abuse.

I had learned to be distant from my feelings. I didn’t take time to process things and transcend them. However, I spoke out about injustice toward anyone else whenever I could. This was empowerment for me. It was as if I was making up for all the times I couldn’t do anything for my brothers and mom. I sometimes wonder if other people who are passionate about social justice are survivors like me.

While in graduate school, I had my first experience of psychosis. Of course, the current routine is: drug them up and hospitalize them.

I wasn’t seen as a survivor of horrific things who had accomplished so much. I was seen as a “schizophrenic.”

New research sheds light on the traumatic experiences people have which lead to psychosis. Instead of seeing these as “ill people” with an “incurable brain disease,” we should look at them as potential survivors of domestic torment and adversity. After all, if you don’t think I experienced adversity, you don’t know the statistics on teen moms. Merely graduating high school is a very real accomplishment for people with my background, let alone going on to college and grad school.

If you glance around my portfolio, you’ll find I have indeed accomplished a lot. My most recent accomplishment is what I’m doing now: transcending my negative childhood experiences.

 

 

On Stigma

Stigma–or, rather, discrimination–regarding mental illness is very common. Most people, alas, are unaware of the stereotypes and biases they hold in their head regarding mental illness.

I have been an advocate against stigma and discrimination for several years. I’ve seen far too many instances of bias and discrimination. I couldn’t help but be an advocate.

I have volunteered with organizations and have watched others grow. The organization I am currently watching–and it’s one to look out for–is Students With Schizophrenia. Founded by Cecilia McGough (Penn), Students With Schizophrenia aims to assist and help college students diagnosed with schizophrenia. Look for Students With Schizophrenia at a campus near you.

PsyCom.Net

Recently, a representative from PsyCom.Net contacted me. If you haven’t heard of PsyCom, it’s a mental health website that was started by the renowned Ivan Goldberg, who developed a depression assessment. The representative from PsyNet thought my readers may be interested in checking out the site. So I encourage you to check it out!

Does Finding Truth Require The Right Attitude?

I’ve become laid-back in my old age. I think I’ve also become more receptive to truth. In my quest to treat and think about schizophrenia, for example, I’ve turned in my old, piercing, rigorous mind and exchanged it for a more humble yet adventurous attitude.

In the world of academia, we often find disparate conversations going on. We find scholars who are unable to communicate with non-academics–but, worse, we find academics unable to communicate with each other.

Since I’ve always taken an interdisciplinary approach, I have tried my best to keep up with conversations in many areas of study. Interdisciplinary work is difficult. One reason why is because one has to become a translator of academic jargon–from psychology to philosophy–and then, for me, a translator from academic jargon into ordinary language.

I do my best, as any translator does, but I may miss the tiny nuances when I translate into ordinary language.

These piercing minds–which I used to possess–give us these conversations. It’s an attitude toward truth that most scholars have which constructs towers of babble upwards towards to heavens.

As I mentioned previously, I’ve taken a different approach to truth these days. I’m fond of pragmatism–in a nutshell, what is true is what works. Pragmatism is a world-centered approach. It isn’t looking for some abstract truth-in-the-sky. It is looking for truth in the world.

But is there a specific attitude one must have in order to be receptive to truth? I think there may be. One must, first of all, be an adventurous explorer, willing to try new things. In my quest for treating schizophrenia, for instance, I have had to be open to trying new medications, seeing if they work, and trying new therapies. I even prayed and undertook an exploration of Christianity because Christian psychology can re-structure cognitive processes. My exploration and willingness to try new things will be proven to work for me if my symptoms diminish over the long term.

In addition to being an explorer, one must have the attitude of a shred of skepticism, too. I know that treatments that may work for me may not work for everyone. I have to discuss progress with other people with mental illness and explore large-scale studies to see whether my treatments work for others.

Notice I focus on what works for me. Whatever works is what is true. Truth is what happens to an idea I may have. My idea becomes true just when it works.

I don’t think I need to have the piercing mind, engaged in the harsh minutia of conversations in academia in order to find truth. I just need the right attitude and the ability to explore.

Call Me C.S. Lewis: An Unlikely Convert

Long time readers may wonder about my sudden shift to writing about Christianity. I’ve converted. You may wonder why. So, I’ll tell you.

About six months ago, I had a psychotic break. It was severe and there are possibly some readers here who witnessed parts of it.

One evening during my psychosis, which lasts usually a week or two, my mind felt like it was going to shatter. It’s hard to explain what it’s like for your mind to shatter, but it’s horrible and scary. You lose your whole identity. I seriously felt like I was going to be in long-term inpatient care. That’s also terrifying.

Normally, I would have gone to the hospital. My first urge was to do just that. I would be, possibly, injected with something like Haldol, and, hopefully, stabilized. It usually takes going to the hospital in order to re-gain any sort of coherence when one’s mind shatters.

However, no one was really around to get me to the hospital. All our vehicles were gone. I couldn’t very well take myself and I didn’t want to call 911 because I thought I wouldn’t be mentally present by the time they showed up.

All of this went though my head very quickly.

I felt my only choice was to pray. They say there are no atheists in foxholes.

I got into my bed and prayed. I said, “God, please help me keep my mind together.”

I was willing to do my part, if and however I could. But I needed God’s help.

As I prayed, my mind was shattering. I was losing my identity as I prayed. The only thing I knew about myself was that I am a woman. So, I prayed to God, “I know I am a woman.” That’s as much help as I could offer God.

I slowly fell asleep.

In the morning, my mind was healed. There was no psychosis whatsoever. No shattered mind.

I don’t currently know how long this healing will last. I don’t know if it’s forever or not. I still take my medications and go to counseling. But, that night, I believe I experienced a miracle. So, I’ve converted.

Psychosocial Causes, and ‘The Real’

The tendency has always been strong to believe that whatever has a name must be an entity or being, having an independent existence of its own. And if no entity answering to the name could be found, men did not for that reason suppose that none existed, but imagined that it was something peculiarly abstruse and mysterious. –JS Mill

I just read a psychosocial report on psychosis. While I agree with looking at psychosocial causes of psychosis, the report states that psychosis is not real the way a broken bone is real. That there are no medical tests, like an x-ray, that can help us diagnose psychosis.

I think, when thinking about the ‘mental’ or ‘psychological’, people get mystified by it. That’s one reason why I decided to refer to schizophrenia as a brain disorder. The fact is, in many people who experience psychosis, there *are* biological differences. There is, according to many studies, excessive pruning of neurons in the brain. There is, moreover, often chemical differences, which is why regulating dopamine in my brain is helpful to me.

However, that doesn’t mean psychosocial causes aren’t important. I’m a believer that they can be causes just like, if someone kicks you in the leg, you may get a broken leg. Not everyone who gets kicked in the leg will experience a broken leg, but some will. There are a lot of factors at play, such as how hard they kicked you, if you were kicked more than once, and how vulnerable your leg is to being broken. And when we look at data, we will find that people who got kicked in the leg will show up more to the hospital with a broken leg, just like we find that people who, eg, experience childhood trauma will more often later show up with psychosis.

So we think of a broken leg as a medical problem with the leg, and I (at least) think of psychosis as a disorder of the brain. This, even though abuse may be the cause of both of them.

Justice at Both Ends: Preventing and Treating Psychotic Disorders through Social Justice

Introduction

It seems like a cruel joke. People who are already in disadvantaged positions are, on top of that, vulnerable to brain disorders. Then, the society that produced the disadvantage (poverty, racism, sexism, etc.) stigmatizes the person for having an illness.

I want to be transparent here. I am diagnosed with schizophrenia. I live openly with my illness. I am also trained as a philosopher. I had my first psychotic break in graduate school, where I was studying ethics and political philosophy. My doctors told me to apply for disability, but I wanted to work. After a series of various jobs and hospitalizations, I finally applied for—and was granted—SSI. The day I was granted SSI, I cried. It had been an extremely rough ride.

One of the jobs I applied for, and kept until I was hospitalized, was as a case manager. As a case manager, I was trained to treat people in a holistic way. I was to look at each client from a variety of perspectives. But, also, I was trained to advocate for justice for my clients. That’s what I want to focus on here.

Theory and Practice

I want to set aside the theories of justice we learn about in school for a minute, however important and interesting they are. Although my academic training is mostly in philosophy, I have also done an assortment of different work. I have had time to think about—and live out—the issues I am discussing. So I’m not going to apply any certain theory of justice to the problems I am discussing. Besides, Bernard Williams would think applying a theory to a problem the way that is often done would be really uninteresting. And, of course, I want to be interesting.

I am also not going to get into a debate about psychiatry versus psychology. Brain versus mind. I think training as a case manager was good experience for me in diffusing that dichotomy. I am trained to deal with both medicine and psychotherapy, as a case manager. And I am trained to think about the soul and the brain, as a philosopher.

However, I am going to refer to schizophrenia as a brain disorder in this paper. Because that’s what it is, whatever, ultimately, causes it. There is something going on differently in my brain when I am psychotic. I’ll set aside issues of dualism, materialism, and so forth, and let other philosophers better trained in that area deal with those issues.

I am also going to set aside cultural differences. Although there has been interesting anthropological work on the differences in the expression of psychosis, there is also consensus that psychosis occurs in every culture. What I will focus on, however, is treating psychotic disorders in the United States. That’s where I live and am best trained.

“What happened to you?”: Social Causes of Schizophrenia

We know that social factors can be a cause in brain disorders. For example, Holocaust survivors are at an increased risk of developing schizophrenia. There is, we may say, only so much a mind can take.

This does not discount other factors involved in developing brain disorders. However, I want to discuss various abuses and forms of disadvantage at play in developing psychotic disorders.

Prior to taking up research specifically on psychotic disorders, I did a great amount of research in Native Studies. Native Studies is an interdisciplinary field, and I had to learn and read in many different fields—anthropology, psychology, sociology, history, law, criminal justice, philosophy, to name a few. In the social and psychological work I read, it was clear that the effects of colonialism had an impact on the minds of indigenous people. They are at an increased risk for many illnesses, including brain illnesses.

This informed my early notions of brain illness: that it’s mostly social. So, when I became ill, I didn’t know what caused it. (It could be, however, that I have, in fact, experienced a lot of hardship, and was prone to developing a psychotic disorder.)

I eschewed psychotropic medications, and psychiatry in general. I was held, for periods of time, in hospitals and told to be “compliant” (to take medications). I sought out therapy, however, and had a few wonderful counselors. Counselors, I knew, treated things differently. They are not medical doctors shoving, as it were, pills that caused me horrible side effects down my throat.

Eventually, however, I was given an antipsychotic that both managed my symptoms and didn’t cause side effects. I am now a firm believer in taking the appropriate medication at the appropriate dosage, along with therapy, case management, and so forth.

One of my good friends, who, for reasons to protect them, will remain anonymous and vague, works for the military. This is not a delusion. They really do work for the military, and they are not the kind of person you would imagine an ethicist would associate with. The fact is, it’s their job to kill people efficiently and effectively. They are not a soldier. They make the plans that others carry out.

Let’s just say that this person knows how to inflict all kinds of torment on people. (This does not carry out into civilian life.) This person once asked me the most important question anyone ever asked me about my illness: “What happened to you?”

They wanted to know what kind of torment, abuse or disadvantage I experienced that made me have schizophrenia.

I wanted to tell them that I was a teen parent, who had to fight for her education, and was treated very badly by, especially, conservatives as a teen parent. I was told I was going to Hell, and funding for my high school, which was my joy and hope in the world, was always threatened.

I wanted to tell them that I had experienced sexism in the field of philosophy that made me very uncomfortable.

I wanted to tell them that I experienced a lot of sexual harassment when I was working as a teaching assistant.

I wanted to tell them that academia is not made for parents, especially teen parents.

I told my counselor instead.

Stigma

There are at least three kinds of stigma: (1) Self-Stigma, (2) Other Stigma, and (3) Stigma by Association. The literature discusses each of these.

Self-stigma is when a person internalizes the stereotypes and “othering” the society holds about them. They may think they are, in fact, a bad person for having schizophrenia. They may think they are at risk for committing violence. They may think they should be punished, or closely watched. This can cause a person to have low self-esteem, live “in the closet,” and not seek treatment.

Other stigma is when people who do not experience psychosis have negative views and discriminate against people with psychotic disorders. This can include not wanting to date a person with schizophrenia, not wanting to have conversations or be friends with people with schizophrenia, and not wanting to work with people with schizophrenia.

Stigma by association is when people who are associated with a person with a psychotic illness feel shame about having that person in their family, school or workplace. They may lack education about people with brain disorders, and there is evidence that proper education about these issues can lessen stigma by association.

Stigma can lead to discrimination by making people treat one differently. As someone who has dealt with gross amounts of stigma, I can say that people have treated me as a potential threat, a wild-eyed disarray, and needing to be “compliant” and tamed. This, even when my symptoms, which have never been threatening, were at bay. Stigma leads one to “see” you differently. It leads to bias in how your actions are interpreted.

I have learned to deal with stigma by living openly and “calling it out.” I risk all kinds of things doing this, but it’s the only thing I know to do.

Justice at Both Ends

We may live in a world where luck is involved, but there’s luck and there’s luck. We have the ability to change our world, to make things better for other people and ourselves. We have the ability to reduce the amount of negative luck people experience. For example, if we alleviated poverty, there would be fewer brain disorders, just as if we reduce child abuse, there would be fewer cases of child PTSD. If we want to reduce the amount of brain illness in the world, we need to be committed to justice.

At the same time, there are people who do and will continue to suffer. For those people, we need justice at the tail end—we need justice for people with brain disorders. This means making people feel OK with accepting government benefits, increasing government benefits so that people with brain disorders are not living in poverty, and, of course, reducing stigma.

I hope I have made a case for justice before and after psychosis.

NAMIWalks

I’ve mentioned previously that I’m participating in NAMIWalks. The walk in Orlando is on April 30th. It’s an awareness raising and fundraising event. Please consider donating to NAMI through my NAMI walker website. It is safe and secure.

My page is here.

When Having a Disability Means You Can’t Work

Right now, my doctor doesn’t want me working. I’m simply not ready, and I have to come to terms with the fact that I may never be ready.

I have a very good friend who has bipolar disorder. He is also on disability, and we recently discussed working. He was feeling like he should work, but was unsure about whether he could handle it.

He’s been stable for a few years, and here’s the conclusion we came to: He remains stable by (1) taking meds, (2) going to counseling, and (3) maintaining a therapeutic lifestyle 24/7.

We concluded that, without any one of these, he would probably go back to the hospital.

It’s the same for me.

I continually do things that are therapeutic—whether it’s participating in poetry, painting, writing, reading, photography, walking, and so forth. I maintain a therapeutic environment for myself 24/7, under the advisement of my doctor.

It’s only been a year since I have been in the hospital, and just under a year that I’ve been on my current medication. That’s far too early to tell whether my medications will prevent me from having a psychotic break if I should try working. I have, in the past, had a psychotic break every six months to a year. I still vividly remember my last break, and I don’t want it to happen again.

Keep in mind that I was given a poor prognosis. The very first psychiatrist I saw told me I should expect to lose a lot of cognitive functioning. I’m lucky to have not lost as much as they thought. I chalk it up to having good care, and fighting like hell.

But I still struggle with not working. The feeling of not working for a living.

If you browse around my website, you will see that, from an early age, I have been involved in many things, and have been very career oriented. For a person like me, not working is devastating.

This is true even though I have doctors’ orders.

I know I have a legitimate disability. There’s no doubt about it. I have had serious psychotic breaks. I am trying, each day, to maintain my health, above all else. I don’t like becoming psychotic, and it’s not like my medicine is so magical that it will, with 100% efficacy, prevent a psychotic break.

They know that, for example, stress can exacerbate psychiatric symptoms. So, I try to limit my stress, and engage in stress-reducing activities, like practicing mindfulness.

Currently, I have to come to terms with the fact that I cannot work—my doctors says so, even—and that I may never be able to work again.

For me, coming to terms with this myself is one thing; a big thing. Realizing this is but one step in coming to terms with my condition and lot in life.

But the even bigger thing is having regular people understand this. When people meet me—when I am out in public—they may not know I have a mental illness. (Unless I am symptomatic. In that case, I may be in my pajamas in public, or looking a huge mess.) I have an “invisible disability.” Not to mention, many people still have stigmas about mental illness, making them think a mental illness is not a real illness just because you can’t really see it.

So making other people understand that I may not be able to work—and that I may be on SSI (and poor)—for the rest of my life is difficult. But it’s something that’s important.

I hope that, if you are reading this, you will not judge people who have to be on disability and who cannot work due to disability. There’s a segment of society that makes people feel like it’s not a legitimate option. This often stems from conservatives who tout the notion that people exploit the safety net system. For so-called Christians (as most of them allege they are), they are highly skeptical and not especially loving when it comes to caring for the wretched of the Earth. (WWJD?)

In my experience, it’s very difficult to get disability. It wouldn’t be easy to fake it. I had to be hospitalized eight times and given a poor prognosis from several doctors before I was given SSI. I was suffering, and denied SSI (and, thus, healthcare) for several years. The whole process is insult to injury. And then you end up living in poverty, anyway.

But my whole point is that each of us can make a difference. We can change things so that people like me, who have to be on disability, do not have to constantly feel like we have to justify this to people who have no business prodding for our medical information.

The fact is, I have tried working several times. Everyone who knows me knows I didn’t want to go on SSI. I wanted to work. Take a look around my website—I like professional accomplishments. But I had to go on SSI because I simply could not work.

Let’s try to make things easier for people who are already suffering enough.

How We Treat Mental Illness

I read an article recently about the current method of treating mental illness, which was referred to as “the shotgun approach.” Basically, when you have a mental illness, they try different medications on you until they find one which works (hopefully). They do this even though the medications used to treat, say, bipolar or schizophrenia work in different ways.

In schizophrenia, at least, the current theory is that there may be different underlying causes for the same symptoms. So, the reason I have schizophrenia may be different than the reason someone else has schizophrenia. The underlying issues with the brain, or past trauma, or environmental factors, may all be different. That’s why Abilify may work for me, but not for someone else. And that’s the reason why other medications I have tried, which react in the brain differently than Abilify, have not worked for me.

So, people with schizophrenia may present with similar symptoms, such as hearing voices, paranoia, and so on, but the reason they have these symptoms may be completely different.

For me, it’s really hard to tell why I have schizophrenia, with the exception of looking at the drug Abilify and seeing how it works in the brain. Of course, there may be environmental factors at play with me that triggered things (it wasn’t easy being a teen mom, for example, and conservatives, who kept telling me how I was going to Hell or cutting funding for my high school, didn’t help), but there may just be something organically different in my brain. (Not structurally, though. I’ve had CAT scans.)

There are genetic and other tests they use for people who do not respond to medications which can give doctors more insight as to why someone has a certain disease, but these are not readily available. In my opinion, they should be. Too often, as in my case, several years are wasted trying different medications to no avail. Often, it takes years to find the right medicine. That’s wasted years for many people—when they could be productive years…if they had the right medication.

That was the point of the article: there must be some way to get people the correct treatment much sooner than what is currently happening. I know, in my case, it would have been helpful to have the right medication much sooner. I may have been able to keep working, or, at least, finish some projects I was working on. At any rate, I would have more sooner been able to enjoy a Spring day like today.

Jennie 4 13 16

Self-Care

Eating better and exercising has really made me feel better. I didn’t know just how bad I felt until I started feeling better. It’s not just getting healthier, though. I have struggled with a little depression over the past, say, year or so. Even people close to me haven’t been able to tell. But I know it’s true.

I go to the doctor again soon and will discuss it then, but I’ve had problems with things like self-care and getting out of bed. Over the past two weeks or so this has gotten so much better. I feel like a new woman.

One of the reasons my doctor and I decided for me to not work is because I have had serious problems with self-care (from schizophrenia) even when I’m not working. When I do work, I end up in the hospital. This has happened eight times—the amount of times I have been hospitalized—and she wants me really good and stable before I even think about working.

I’m doing really well on Abilify, but progress is slow. I’m just now at the point where I’m caring again about taking care of myself. I have been showering each day, brushing my teeth, eating right, exercising, getting out, etc. This is progress, but my doctor and I are taking it very slow.

I’m lucky to have so many great people in my life who understand mental illness. One of them suggested that I make a list of my daily cares and check them off each day so I do them and don’t forget. This has helped me.

It has also helped that I have been fortunate to have so many wonderful people in my life. I recently “came out” to everyone in my life–including people on Facebook, etc–about having schizophrenia. I just couldn’t bare having such a big secret. I was welcomed and accepted by all of them. I cannot say enough how helpful it is to have people in your life who are supportive and do not hold stigmas about mental illness.

Why *Have* I Been in the Hospital?

I mentioned previously that every time I have been hospitalized (8 times), it has been against my will, and against the law.

So you may wonder why I have been hospitalized. There have been times, no doubt, that I have acted oddly. I have had strange beliefs sometimes when I’ve had psychotic breaks. Apart from being disturbing to others, they were mostly harmless. What I mean by that is that I’ve never been a danger to anyone.

People often overreact, or act inappropriately, when it comes to schizophrenia. What’s best is to acknowledge that my beliefs and emotions are very real to me, and to try to deescalate my symptoms. And, if all else fails, for my family to call my doctor. It’s not against the law to act oddly. And when you have schizophrenia, it’s a sign you are ill and need compassionate concern.

The police are often involved in mental illness–to an extent not seen in any other medical condition. It’s a horrible state of affairs. I have written a poem about one time I had a psychotic break and the cops came for me. It’s called Fight With God.

Meddlesome People

I have a friend on Facebook who is very ill. She has a neurological disorder. She has to have caregivers take care of her. However, someone on Facebook reported her to the state, saying she needs help and is being neglected. So, the state came to her house to check things out.

She is very upset about this because she is trying to stay out of a nursing home. Calling the state is a step towards her going to a nursing home.

So, I want to say that although I share things on here, I have things in my life taken care of. I play by the rules. I know the rules of SSI, and I am playing by them. I go to my doctor and get good care. It’s very paternalistic for people to meddle in other people’s affairs.

Poor People and Mental Illness

Because I am disabled by mental illness, and am on SSI, the topic of being impoverished while suffering a mental illness is a dear one to my heart. I will tell my story.

I suffered a psychotic break in graduate school. I was one of the people who was trying to escape poverty. I worked hard, and tried not to make any mistakes. But one cannot account for illness, and, after discussing things with my doctor, I applied for disability. This leaves me with about $8,000 a year to live on. On this amount, I cannot afford a roof over my head of my own, so I live with my mom and stepdad.

Currently, I have a 2004 Ford Focus that was paid off before I got on disability. It needs work, and I cannot afford to have work done on it. I certainly cannot afford a new car. I give myself $100.00 per week to live on, which is the definition of extreme poverty in the United States. This covers my clothing, hygiene products, entertainment, and so forth. I use the rest of the money to make payments on the computer I am using to write this, and, occasionally, I have enough saved up to buy a new pair of glasses, or a new phone, which is the only way I have a smart phone.

I have been in the hospital for psychosis eight times. I regularly go to the clinic to get medications. I go to a place for low income people. So, I associate with poor people with mental illness all the time.

One of the travesties in our country is that we make people with mental illness poor. Social Security is not enough to live on. It’s supposed to cover housing, food, clothes, and entertainment. But it barely covers my costs for gas, clothes, and hygiene products. Think about it: $8,000 per year. Can you live on that?

Before I got on disability, I tried to work because I did not want to be on disability. I was hospitalized five times before I got approved for disability. After that, I struggled with finding the right medication for me. I am currently on an antipsychotic, but it gives me some side effects.

Every month, I go to the clinic for my medication. There, I see many poor people with mental illness. For all of the good qualities I have mentioned of poor people, let me make one thing clear: Being poor is not fun. It’s not great times.

I don’t know what percentage of the poor population suffers from mental illness, but I’d wager quite a bit. If you are disabled from a mental illness, you are bound to be living in poverty.

Participating in the Arts Improves Mental Health

That’s according to this article, which discusses a survey that researchers conducted, asking people about their participation in the arts and their mental well being.

I have for quite some time been participating in the arts, whether it’s creating poetry, painting, coloring, or listening to music.

Take in some art today!