Love to all...

Thank you to those who have tried to help me through all this.  It will be over soon, I've decided.  I think that I cause too many problems for people, and I hate that.  Anyway, just wanted to say thanks for reading.

Please let Christmas be over...

     I've done my fair share of going out in the crowd all in the name of Christmas.  I'm not a holiday person.  Especially after learning in a non-so-loving way that my conversations with my daughter are about to come to an end.  What a great thing to learn.  This whole situation sucks.  The conversations are making her revert to old behavior, so it's best for her for us not to talk right now.  I wish that understanding completely over-laid the awful emotions that come with it.  I've never hurt like this before in my life. Hopefully everybody else will have a good holiday.  This one's not gonna be that great over here, but at least I know it.  It's better to know than to go into it clueless.  Take care everybody...

Hard Times...

     It's Christmas again.  I used to hate this time of year until I had my daughter.  Then, watching her delight at Christmas totally changed it for me.  I couldn't wait to watch her get excited about Christmas and Santa and giving Jesus a gift for Christmas, a tradition my family has taken on since I was a child.  I used to love Christmas.
     Now I don't like Christmas so much.  It's not that I don't like it, but I hate the way my Christmas has changed this year.  Not having my daughter has changed absolutely every inch of my being.  And it's changed Christmas.  I don't have her to watch the Charlie Brown's Christmas, so I leave my tv off instead of trying to myself get through yet another Christmas special where everybody makes it out ok and is really happy.  I should be happy...it's a happy time of year.  I try not to beat myself up for having a rough time, but it's hard sometimes.  I think that I should be fine since I take the lifetime supply of psychotrophic medication...ya know?  Oh well....another day, another time, right?
     I'm going to bed.  I hope you all have a good night.  Sleeping is my friend at this point. Thanks for reading

I just called to say I love you....

     Just kidding...I didn't really call to say "I love you"....I've been obsessed with the movie 'High Fidelity' as of late, and there's a joke about that record in it.  I've been making Christmas presents today.  I hate it that the spirit of the holiday is supposed to be love and joy and all that kind of stuff, when really you end up busting your ass trying to make everything perfect.   My dad put my Christmas tree up for me, and for the first time I like having a tree up.  It makes me think of my daughter.  Sometimes it's a sad memory and sometimes it makes me smile.  I had to go through the Christmas ornaments and give my daughter's to her new mom since she has her very own big girl Christmas tree.  That is one of the hardest things I've ever done.  I really didn't think it was going to be a big deal, but it was.  It amazes me sometimes the things that really upset me about this whole situation....things that I normally wouldn't get upset about and feelings that I didn't expect to come to the surface so easily. She loves Christmas, or at least she used to. On one hand, I'm grateful that she misses me and feels a bit out of balance.  On the other hand, it breaks my heart to see her heart broken.  She's so  much better about keeping a happy face on than I am.  I cry entirely too easily these days, and sometimes think that I feel things a little too deeply.  I'm glad that I have the capability to feel a myriad of emotions...I just wish that I could pick and choose what I feel and when I'm going to feel it.  But don't we all? 
     I know someone who is in severe pain but hasn't a clue that he feels that way.  He tries to hide it with humor, and sometimes it's almost painful to watch.  I just want to say, "it's ok...you don't have to pretend that everything's ok", but I don't.  He's a grown man and it's not my place to go there.  So, I back off and let him do his thing.  Maybe I'm keenly aware of his pain because of my own.  We have different stories, but very similar pain. I think we're all hurting in some way.  Most of us try to do something to cover it up.  I know I do...I'm technologically retarded, but I've gotten so into tech stuff, trying to occupy my mind and time with something other than thinking about everything that's really going on with me.  What do you use? Is it work? Or food or relationships? We all have something...I'm sure of it. 
     I have to tell you about a book that I downloaded (yes, I'm a dork) on my Nook thingy.  It's about the "bad" women of the Bible.  I love it.  Even God uses people like me - the bad Christian who cusses at any given chance and occasionally participates in illegal activity lol.  In learning about the Bible growing up, I always heard about the women who seemed perfect and normal and beautiful and all that.  I never identified with them worth crap and thought that I had to be like that in order to be loved.  So, I gave up trying at a pretty early age.  After all, I am your classic preacher's daughter - and the worst kind at that.  My family still jokes about how I turned into hell on wheels when I turned 16....I was awful! Why I'm going into all of this, I'm not quite sure.  I think I just want to communicate that you don't have to be perfect and all together in order to be of help to others or to be loved.  We were all made to be who we are for a reason.  I have mental illness and everything else for a reason.  What that reason is I haven't the first clue, but at least now I know that there is a reason.  And knowing is half the battle, to quote GI Joe lol. 
     So, this holiday season I want to allow myself to feel what I feel...even when it's inconvenient and hurts like hell.  I don't want to feel frantic about making sure that everybody is going to like what I've made them.  If they don't like it, tough shit....I've put a lot of thought, time and love into every single thing I've done.  I hope that this season, where the malls are packed with rats and frenzied shoppers, that you're able to sit back and get in touch with what's going on with you, whatever that looks like for you.  For me, it's sitting in the dark listening to Buddy and Julie Miller or David Gray, letting whatever feelings I have come up and hit me out of nowhere.  I hope you can find something that works, too.  Thanks for reading.

Another Day...

     I went to the doctor today.  My psychiatrist, that is.  She's wonderful.  She's been practicing over 50 years and really knows her stuff.  It's great to be with a doctor who tells me what to do instead of asking me what I think needs to be changed.  Isn't that what you pay the doc for? To tell you what to do? Yes. So I look forward to seeing her.  She always knows what to do and isn't weirded out by the fact that I have something like 550 different diagnoses lol.  I like the comparison my dad has been making lately.  He says that what I have is like cancer...good days and bad days...can't really control any of the symptoms, but you fight it like hell.  It kind of takes the pressure off, if that makes any sense.  I realized over the holiday that I was worn out because I felt like I had to be "on" all the time, even though my back was hurting and I was so tired.  I don't do well in crowds.  I've realized this.  So, I took my Nook e-reader thingy and played sudoku in between reading the old yoga text and Anne Lamott.  She is my favorite author, by the way.  I highly recommend anything that she's written.  Just when I think I'm the worst person ever who was somewhat Jesusy and crunchy, I read her work and feel right at home.  She's a bad Christian, too.  She always helps me not loathe myself so much lol. 
     My doc and I talked about me not having my daughter and how I'm doing in the transition.  I realized that I'm in an angry stage right now.  I don't know that I can actually say "stage" since my attitude can change within 5 minutes, and I'll do a 180.  Like today...I was going about my business doing just fine.  Then left the doctor's office pissed as hell at the child therapist for ripping my daughter away from me.  This, however, is not reality, and I realized that as soon as I started using the words fucking and shit while talking to my mother.  This is always a bad sign....though she was kind enough not to reprimand me while I was so angry.  Truth is, though, that when I get that mad about something, anything, it's usually because I'm hurting really badly about it or something related.  Don't you think you do that, too? If my reaction is a 15 on a 10 point scale, nine times out of ten, I am really hurting about something and find it way easier to be mad instead.  I don't feel so vulnerable or hopeless when I'm mad.  At least I don't throw things anymore...that ended several months ago lol...actually that is the truth.  I got so mad at a friend who owed me a ton of money, and I just about emaciated my phone after throwing it repeatedly because I was so "pissed".  What it actually was was that I was so hurt that he would borrow that money from me and then not pay it back, when I was a single mom on welfare, blah blah, blah.  It was all quite self-indulgent if you ask me - to lend him the money was my mistake, but I did it...that was my part in it...if that makes any sense.  Anyway, I'm tired of feeling angry now.  I think I'm going to try to chill for a bit before I have to go to bed.  If you pray, send love and light my way as I'm continuing through this journey.  Thanks for reading.

Dear God Letter...

      I have schizophrenia.  I also have a few other things, but schizophrenia is definitely there.  That's why I had to give up my daughter.  I am grateful that she's with family, but it's still hard.  Last night, my entire immediate family was here, and all of the grandchildren.  I love it when we're all together.  My brothers make fun of all of the bad and crazy hairdos that I've had...the bald heads and mohawks, though one brother had a mullet at one point.  I'm not the only one with bad taste lol.  Anyway, my mother played this damned song that absolutely wrecked my heart...it's actually really good, but I can't listen to it without bawling.  It's called "A Baby Changes Everything".  I don't know who wrote it, but Faith Hill sings it on her Christmas record I guess...it's my mom's.  I started crying, thinking about how different my Holiday is going to be this year.  How different my life is right now, and how much pain I'm in today.  Her new mother told me that my daughter is writing letters to God right now...telling him that she cries sometimes because she misses Lucy.  I was already crying about missing her....this just tore my heart out.   Though somewhere in my heart a little light shined in some tiny space because I am not forgotten.  She is not clueless about how different things are and how hard they are.  She is going to have an amazing and painful story to tell when she gets a little older.  I hate that it has to be a painful and difficult one, but I'm realizing that we connect to each other best when in pain.  Don't you think you do that? I know I do...there are some people I never thought I'd be involved with who can connect with me and help hold me up because they've been there.  Somehow or in some way, they've been there. 
     Anyway, I told my father as he was driving me home.  He suggested that I might want to write some letters to God too.  I'm still not sure if God is a He or a She, but I decided that "they" wouldn't care that much.  I hope not at least.  So, I decided that if I'm going to really be up front and honest about where I am, I would let you read  my letter to God.  I didn't get too deep, but figured I'd share, hoping that I'm connecting with somebody:

   Dear God,
     I know that I'm throwing up shotgun prayers right now...my heart is broken.  I'm starting to see a little light through the cracks, but it's all so painful still.  I wish that it could've stopped when I signed my rights over as her mother.  Couldn't the giving have ended there?  So much is frequently asked of me, and I give for the well-being of my child.  I give for hopping that if I do the next right, albeit hard thing that more light shines.  It may just be a tiny space filled with light, but it's more than I had.  Bless the people who endure mindless babble from a crazy girl.  Bless that baby that 'changed everyting' for me.  Let her know how much I love her...thanks.  Oh, and please honor these tears I cry for her.  Let me send her light and love and then drop it so I don't end up in that ocean, punching at the waves, trying to get somewhere more peaceful.
                              Amen

Happy Late Thanksgiving

      So, how was your Thanksgiving? That's probably not a proper way to begin a blog, but I always want to know how other people spend the Holidays.  I spent mine with my father's side of the family in a cottage on the beach in Florida.  This was the first time in 15 years that we were able to make it...the "we" being my mom, dad, and me.  I still don't have clearance to drive, mostly because I suck at it, so I rode with them.  Unfortunately I spent a lot of time in bed because of my broken back.  It gave me plenty of time to think, though, sans computer and other web capabilities.  We stayed from Tuesday until today.  I was ready to get home, back to the dog and all things familiar.  As I was laying in bed, though, I tried to maintain a positive attitude by thinking about the things and the people for whom I'm most grateful.  I read quite a bit...a little Anne Lamott and a little from an ancient yoga text.  The latter was extremely confusing and not nearly as entertaining as the first.  My brain seems to serve me well lately, as I haven't had an episode in several weeks now.  I welcome the reprieve with somewhat open and tentative arms.  I can't help but wonder when things will go downhill again, and I hate that about myself.  I wish I could enjoy the break without putting one foot into tomorrow's possible breakdown.  I don't think I'm alone in this.  And I don't think that this behavior is limited to those who have mental illness.  I think in some way we all do this, with whatever ails us. 
      As I lay in bed this week, trying like hell to be grateful when I really just wanted to crawl under a rock because I felt like I had the body of an eighty-year-old, I found that I had one foot in that today and getting home.  I was glad for the vacation, to see familiar faces that had gone unseen for so long, and to hear my elders tell stories of Thanksgivings past.  I became painfully aware, though, that the older generation's presence and guidance will not be there much longer.  They are getting older, and so am I.  Things are changing.  People are changing.  I am changing. 
     That is what I got most out of this week...that everything is changing.  My daughter is changing.  My relationship with her is changing.  She no longer calls me mom or mommy.  Instead, she calls me Lucy.  I don't mind it much, as that name is a term of endearment in my my family.  However, I am painfully aware that I am not her primary mother figure anymore.  It hurts like crazy, but I have to walk through it.  I'm 33 years old now, and I'm not getting any younger.  I wonder what tomorrow will bring.  Will I feel good? Will my back remain like the rusty cogs of a wheel or will I be able to move more freely?  Will my brain behave itself, or will it go off into some new psychosis?  These are all questions I've been asking myself while keeping one foot in today and one foot in tomorrow.  It's like my dad always says that if you've got a foot in today and one in tomorrow, that you're pissing all over today.  I love that...not the pissing on today part, but you know what I mean.  I think we all need to remember that.  I think that life comes in abundance when you stay right where you are instead of lurching towards tomorrow in expectancy.  Hopefully I'll remember that as the day closes.  Thanks for reading.

My Broken Heart

     Today is probably one of the hardest days I've ever had.  I found out that my daughter can't call me mommy anymore.  Instead, she's going to call me Lucy.  I haven't been able to stop crying.  I feel like my heart has been ripped into pieces and stomped on.  I understand that it's best for her.  Calling me mommy and my sister mommy is extremely confusing for her.  I am determined to do what is best for her, even when it feels like it's the end of the world to me.  I don't have much to say except to those who pray to continue praying.  Puffy red eyes are kind of the status quot these past couple days.  I'm so tired of grieving.  I want to feel happy.  I want to feel peace about the situation.  I wish that doing what's best for her didn't hurt so badly.  I pray and pray and sometimes feel comfort, and other times I feel completely alone.  I'm not a mom anymore.  I don't have a daughter anymore.  That sweet precious child that I gave birth to is no longer mine.  She won't identify me as her mother anymore. I feel like the world has truly come to an end.  What else is there? If I've been so obedient in my decision to give her up, why don't I feel rewarded? Why don't I feel loved? Why can't I stop crying and begging for that peace that passes all understanding.  I want her sooooo badly.  I long to feel those sweet, soft arms around my neck.  I will get to see her over the Thanksgiving holiday for 2 days.  I'm a nervous wreck...usually our meetings go well, and other times they're very tense. I am praying for the best situation.  Please pray for the same. I can't stop crying, so I think I'm going to get off the computer.  Thanks for reading.

Early Thanksgiving wishes...

     Well, it's that time of year again.  Normally I'm not a holiday person, but for some reason this year is different.  We're all going down to the beach in Florida to stay for a week with my dad's side of the family.  My daughter will be there, which is probably why I'm so excited.  They're only coming for 2 days, but that's 2 days that I normally wouldn't be able to spend with her.  I don't do well around big crowds, so I'm a bit nervous.  But I'll have my own room to go to if things get too overwhelming.  I hope that everyone has a great Thanksgiving. Even if you're not a holiday person, I know you can come up with at least one thing to be thankful for.  It's kind of a "one day at a time" thing for me.  I usually expect the worst, and then am pleasantly surprised how things work out.  I am hoping and praying that I don't have an episode while I'm there.  That would really suck.  I really don't have much else to say today.  I love you all and while we're on the topic of Thanksgiving, I'm thankful for you all.  The feedback I have gotten from my friends is so helpful and encouraging.  I'm grateful for my entire family and for their comfort and love during this difficult time.  Thank you so much for reading. Have a great holiday!

I hate the flu...

     I have the flu right now and feel like crap.  My friend encouraged me to write anyway, so I am doing just that.  The holidays are here and I find myself wondering how I'm going to cope.  My daughter  is doing really well, which I'm grateful for, yet I long for her to want her mommy.  Damned schizophrenia.  I always wonder if I did anything to bring it on.  My life has been pretty difficult,but there are so many other people who have gone through difficult things and still can take care of their children.  So, I continue wondering what I did wrong and where I went wrong, hearing the sounds of my therapist lingering in the background, telling me that none of this is my fault; that it's a brain disorder that no one has control over. So, the cycle begins again.  I forgive myself, then feel guilty about feeling forgiven, then feel depressed about the whole situation, then back to the beginning of forgiving myself all over again.  Does anybody else do this? Is it a crazy person thing?  I don't really know what it feels like to be "normal", but I imagine great things for that kind of life. I imagine that "normal" people don't feel as if they've abandoned their children; that they don't have to worry about half of the things that I do...that they don't have to rely on medication for some semblance of sanity. Then I hear that "normal" people have just as many problems...they're just different.  The thing that sucks is that I'm in the minority.  People don't understand what it's like to be mentally ill.  People can identify with "normal" people problems.  I miss feeling normal.  And at times I grow increasingly angry feeling abandoned by God and the human race.  I almost wish that I had a physical illness instead of one of the mental sort. That way people would understand and wouldn't look at me like I'm crazy when I share my life with them.  It's also times like these, when I'm pretty lucid and doing pretty well, that I wish I had my daughter back.  The other times, I'm grateful she's with my brother and sister-in-law, whom I consider a sister. I will have to find a balance between the two.  My sweet sister told me that she wants me to flourish in life, and to not feel as if I've put my daughter off on them so that I could have a "nice" life.  She knows my heart and knows that I don't operate like that.  I just need to find a place to balance.  Right now, though, with being sick, it makes the whole situation feel quite dreary.  I just have to hold on.  thanks for reading

In it Together

     I definitely don't claim to be a great writer.  I never have and I never will.  Most of what I write is stuff I need to either get off of my chest, or I think there's some random possibility that the information might be of help to someone.  So, Here we go again lol.  Mentally, I am doing incredibly well.  For that, I am eternally grateful.  I wish I could be one of those people who takes every moment as it comes.  If I'm doing well with my yoga, I'm usually better about it.  But right now, yoga has been the last thing on my mind, and I'm kind of given in to a more hectic state of mind.  I actually met a boy that I like...I honestly thought that the rest of my life would be filled with same-sex relationships because of all the awful experiences I've had with men, and the fact that I've always been attracted to women as well.  I realize that some of you who are reading this probably think that I'm going to hell because of my "sin".  I disagree, but understand why you feel the way you do....it has so much to do with the place from which you came.  Anyway, I don't know if it was my fault or not, but now it's not going  so well.  I suck at relationships.  I don't know if it's ok to say this, but I really believe that all artists in one way or another royally suck at relationships.  Anyway, I'm dating a man, and it's different.  He doesn't really know what to do with me lol.  It's kind of funny. 
     Any who, I just wanted to make it known that relationships, no matter what you have going on in your life, are all hard.  I don't know what happened, but I finally was able to understand that people who aren't mentally ill have really hard relationships, too.  I thought that I had more problems in relationships simply because of my schizophrenia.I can't tell you how comforting it is to know that in some way I'm like a "normal" person. I miss talking to all of you.  I need to start writing more.  Hug yourselves and know that you're not alone.  Thanks for reading.

It's been too long...

     I had no idea that I hadn't blogged in so long.  It's been19 days since I've been on the computer.  On the 5th, I turned 33.  I got to spend the day with my parents.  We went to see the owl movie (totally can't remember the name of it) and ate my mother's fabulous spaghetti.  I got to talk to my nieces and nephew, and then finally got to talk to my daughter.  When she was ready to go, she said "ok, well, here's my mommy," referring to my sister-in-law.  I burst into tears.  I had tried to hold it together all day, but completely lost it at that point.  This stuff is so hard.  I had been staying with my parents because I've been having such a hard time with life in general.  I stayed there until last Friday.  I decided that I might be strong enough to go home.  Friday I did alright.  Saturday was harder.  Sunday was rough, as I continued to stay in bed.  Monday, late in the afternoon, I called my mother as I sat with  knife in my hand.  I decided to call for help instead of ending my life.  My posts will probably be short right now.  I just wanted to keep up with you guys.  Life is still extremely hard right now.  I'm ready for it to ease up.  I hope you're all doing well...which is to say that I hope you're all doing better than I am.  We'll talk soon.  Thanks for reading...

It's Saturday...

     It's about mid-day Saturday, and I've been crying all day.   I can't tell which hurts worse...not having my daughter or the new memory that I continually relive.  Yesterday was such a good day. I went over 24 hours without crying and was feeling so hopeful.  Too bad it doesn't last that long.  I won't bore you with the details of either.  Frankly I don't feel like talking or writing, but feel like I need to.  I'm so grateful that my parents are letting Agnes and me stay at their house for a stint until I'm able to cope and manage these things better.  I hate the way this stuff makes me feel.  There is something helpful, though, that my mother brought to my attention.  Sooo many women have been sexually abused in one way or another, and many have had to endure the nastiness of repeat offenders.  Sometimes it's hard not to feel alone in this stuff. I think it's probably like that with problems that everybody faces. We're taught to not talk about it, swallow the shame and hurt, and end up wounded, suffering people.  We can feel the pain, but we don't have to suffer. Hopefully you all have people who help hold you up.  It's a place where you find your true friends and loved ones.  I know I have, and I'm eternally grateful to them.  I'm going to go play with Agnes right now.  It's a beautiful day outside, and I'm hoping that it will permeate my soul.  It needs it right now.  Thanks for reading.

Let's go there....this is not for the squeamish....

     So you want to know what it's like to have schizophrenia, or at least the type that I have, along with a  dissociative disorder and an eating disorder, and...just kidding.  I'm hoping that the list stops there...it's like I told my mom today, "I can't take any more memories and I can't take any more losses." She and I spent the morning together, and it was great. As the afternoon has gone on, my mood has begun to change.  I went from being somewhat lighthearted, to having delusions that Agnes was dying. I have inner voices because I have different aspects of my personality that were formed from the amount of sexual abuse I've survived over the years. I haven't had any major hallucinations yet, but I say yet because that is usually what follows. I will hear someone and respond as if I thought they were in the house, and then I'll come out of it and begin to cry out of confusion and fear. It's amazing what our minds will do. Over the years with the hospitalizations and the therapy sessions, and the group sessions, and the 12 step meetings, one would think that this stuff wouldn't hurt so bad. It wouldn't hurt like that because I would be able to explain it away. I'm crazy, but I'm not completely gone.  I still have the ability to emote (case in point, I wish you could see my eyes right now) and show people that I love them.  So many people who have my diagnosis don't do that. Instead, they're constantly in an "episode". When I came back from a 3 month stay, if you will, at the Menninger Clinic.  That's where I learned Marsha Linehan's fabulous DBT training.  It's for people like me who can go from one extreme to the other in no time without warning, and will pop into an episode and disassociate.  It helps to keep me grounded. My endearing therapist, Bernice Maise (sp?) works with me on that. I think  it's also rare for a lot of people to find the kind of therapist-patient bond that I've formed with her.  I honestly trust her with my life. She gets me.  So does my psychiatrist.  So few people get to feel the freedom and the trust with the people in their support system...if they have one of those even, if you know what I mean. I am taking my meds now, thank goodness....my family has a joke about asking if we've taken our meds, and if you say no, then they ask you if you can take two...it wasn't funny the first time, but now it is.  I take my medication like she tells me to.  It sucks having the foggy head all day, like a medicine hangover. But if it helps to ward off these episodes, I'll take it.  For everybody's sake. But now it's time to go.  I go to the back Dr. tomorrow and find out if I have to have surgery, or what the next step is with my back.  The pain from the wreck is getting to be unbearable, but I'm trying to push through it.  I feel like I need to have a banner waving over my head that says 'hey! I'm workin' on it!'. So my eyes will be puffy until I've cried it out.  So I'll have to microwave things to help work out the muscle cramps. I have to push through this.  I get so tempted to commit suicide sometimes, when it gets really dark. But it's like my dad says, 'it's a permanent solution to a temporary problem'. If I would end my life, what would my daughter do? How would it make her feel? How hurt and angry would my parents and family feel? I can't do that to them.  When I can't see clear that I'm worth the space, I do it for them.  I gotta do what I gotta do, and right now, that's also gets me through. Thanks for reading. Peace.

It's not over...it's just the beginning.

     Today has been a hard one.  My neck and shoulders and head ache from crying so hard. It feels a bit like I'm dealing with the death of a loved-one. But she's not dead.  My daughter is thriving in her environment and is enjoying life. In a selfish way, I want her to want her mommy of 7 years. But I'm not her mommy anymore...not in the way that I have been.  That's why it's over.  I grieve for the last 7 years I had with her. Like most schizophrenics who have periods of lucidity, I blame myself and wish I had done this or that differently. But that wasn't the plan. I did the very best I could do with the hand I was dealt long before that precious little girl began to grow in my tummy.  I am grateful that I got to go through the experience of pregnancy...feeling her move around in my stomach...seeing her look at her mother for the first time...praying, terrified, that she would make it through those first critical hours when she couldn't breathe on her own.  There is a reason that she came from me.  She couldn't have come from anyone else. I understood today how a birth mother might feel when giving their child up for adoption. The only difference is that I got to create a tightly-woven bond with her for 7 years before giving her up.  I got to see what she looks like, what she smells like, what her skin feels like, what her hair felt like when I would wash it as it curled around my fingers.  All of these things I know. What I don't know is how to relate to her in a different way. My role has to change. I wish there was a book that I could read to give me all the answers. If there is, somebody let me know. It can't be through trial and error, I don't believe, because I don't want to risk hurting her heart. Hurt mine all you want, but don't hurt hers. She didn't ask for any of this. I don't want to do anything that would uproot her or pull the rug out from under her. So, I talk to mommy #2, who is so amazingly gifted in relating and being real.  How lucky and blessed am I that she and my oldest brother not only care for and love my daughter, they are concerned about my heart and my well-being as well.  They want to know where I am emotionally.  They are in transition just as much as I am.
     As hard as today has been, it's been a good one.  I have horrific memories from my childhood that are surfacing, and the adoption was final, but I'm still here. And I didn't even hallucinate.  I usually hallucinate a lot especially when I'm in extremely emotionally-charged situations.  I don't wish on anyone what I have had to endure in this lifetime.  I was unknowingly not protected as a child.  My parents didn't know everything that was going on.  Otherwise they would have stopped it. For the memories I've had, and for those to come (God help me I can't have anymore), if there are any, I have completely forgiven them. They did the best they could with what they had. My family has spent more money on therapy and hospitals....you'd think I'd have my own wing somewhere! lol! But it has been worth it. Do I have the life of a normal 33 year old? Absolutely not. Do I want that sometimes? Of course. But I can't come at life from that angle. I have to take it head on and be direct and deliberate or I get lost in the shoulds and the shouldn'ts of who I am and where my worth comes from.  This whole "my worth comes from God" thing is completely new to me. I'm certainly not the "Bible beater" type of Christian.  Those are the people who kept me away from God for so many years. I'm just learning slowly what it means to rely on Him and let Him make my way straight.  My way hasn't been all that straight. In fact, it's been extremely crooked, and I still look crooked to myself when I look in the mirror. But He/She tells me it's going to be alright. Do I always believe it and feel like it? Of course not...I'm a baby in the realm of faith. But I believe because I want to.  I want to know that I haven't felt all of this horrific pain for nothing.
     So tonight, while my body is still rejecting food because I haven't been able to eat much in the past few days,I say my prayers. Actually, that sounds strange. I talk to creator and let him or her wrap me up in their arms and hold me while I sleep. Thanks for reading

It's finished...

That's really all I can say.  It's final.  For those of you who pray, please keep my heart in mind.  It's far beyond broken. Though my sweet brother sent me the sweetest text: Thank you..I promise to love her well...praying for your heart.  When I'm in a space such as this, all I can do is pray to God that I'll have some sort of visualization.  I'm an artist...that's how I process things. Then it was if He/She was holding my hand in one hand, and was holding my sweet daughter in his other arm.  He told me that I could touch her and talk to her, but that he had to hold her right now. But they said that it's OK...that we are close to each other and that we're going in the same direction. I have cried today like I've never cried before. I know that I made the right decision.  I just wish that the feelings and the "rightness" matched up. They don't, and I might never know why. I just know that they said they had my hand and will not let me fall.  I can honestly say that this is the first time I have experienced the nearness of God's grace and face to face dealings with those he/she loves. Praise God I have that hope and can put faith in him or her. That's a mighty distance from  where my heart was yesterday. It's gonna be OK, people. It's gonna be OK.

Today's the Day

     Today I'll try to keep it short.  I was able to get out of bed and open the blinds today. It's taken three days to do it, but I did it. That's a huge part of my disorder...I have such a bent towards black depression.  And so far today, I've only heard my name called 3 times.  At least I'm only hearing things and not seeing things.  It's still freaky to think someone is in your house calling your name, but to see them is a different story.  I haven't had major visual hallucinations in a little while now, thank God.
     Well, I'll get down to it.  Today is the day that the adoption is final.  I'm so grateful that I don't have to be there.  It's been all I can do to hang on, but I'm making it.  It will be final in 30 minutes.  I will no longer be her main mother or caretaker. I won't kiss her boo boos and I won't tuck her in at night again. I try not to cry about it because I keep thinking I'm all dried up.  But the tears just come whenever they want.  I almost cried i the book store for god's sake! I want to let go.  I need to let go as much for her as I do myself.  But those of you who are mothers know that those strings are strong and they don't cut easily. So, I cry some more.  My mom gave me an amazing illustration of me laying her at God's feet and leaving her there for Him/Her to take care of. That's where she's safest and will be loved the most.  I keep praying for the ability to leave her there, and the ability to walk away, keeping my hands to myself.  I find myself constantly running back up there to make sure she's OK, like there's something I can do that God can't. It's just so damned hard! I also have to take my heart back.  I can love her from here, but if I leave this wound gaping then I won't be able to move on and find out what is in store for me now.  It's scary to think about moving on.  There's a sense of guilt that hangs on my shoulders, like I'm not making the right decision. But I have to trudge on.  I have done what I was called to do, and what, in the end, is best for my child.  I am definitely getting worse.  I . sometimes have a hard enough time just taking care of myself that there's no way I would want her to be  privy to that kind of darkness.  She is growing up before my eyes, and it's not because of anything I'm doing...it's what I'm not doing that is helping. But I will always be her mother. I'm the only one who gave her life.
     So, I take each day  one at a time.  It's more like taking things minute by minute right now, but I'll be able to make it.  God surely didn't bring me this far to leave me now.  That's all I can hold onto right now.  I hope you guys have a good day today.  I know I'm going to try.  Thanks for reading.
    

There has to be a reason...it can't all be for nothing

     I realized today that I have solely identified myself as a mother.  Even during the short times of illness, when my daughter would stay with my parents, I still identified myself and my worth in being a mother.  I was never the girl who couldn't wait to get married and have babies. When I got pregnant, it was a surprise....the next nine months were a whirlwind of living in the ghetto, then being homeless, living with a friend for a month, then finally being allowed to return to my parents' home. I should have known that she would easily change situations.  That's all she's known her entire life, because I couldn't always take care of her.  I struggle so much with blaming myself for all of this...if I hadn't done this, or if I wasn't like that.  It all comes back to the place where I blame myself for my mental illness. It's so hard not to do that.  I have a pretty severe case of what I've got, but I also have times of complete normalcy. It's during those times that I beat myself up for my behavior, knowing that if I had the option to be "normal" I would take it hands down as opposed to the life I have. People don't get it.  Why would people want to get it? It's ugly, it's sad, it's hard, and there are a lot of tears. My present project is trying to learn how to let my daughter go. Not only to free up my heart from the suffering I'm enduring, but to free her up to be fully in that family and not have to worry about her mama.
     Last night we celebrated mine and my dad's birthdays together. All the grandchildren came as well as my brother and sister (in-law...but not really) It was all I could do to not sit in a puddle of sobbs...I wanted to be so strong and happy for her.  All I could see  was that she really is 100% in their family.  She didn't ask me about things.  She asked her other mother about things. My sister and I (this mommy and that mommy) are very close and I can tell her when I'm in pain, and she completely understands where I'm coming from.  I am and always will be eternally grateful to her for being there for me, being my daughter's mother when I can't be, and still caring for my heart. I love her so much that words cannot explain.
     So, I went home sobbing and cried myself to sleep.  I woke up this morning, and started crying just where I left off.  So, I went back to sleep, woke up around noon, and called my mom sobbing, asking her to get me out of the house. I have no car since I had the accident, so my parents are my transportation. Plus, it's always comforting being around my mama.  So we went to a bookstore where I got a CD, and continued on to TJ Maxx, our favorite store.  There were so many mothers with their little girls walking through the store.  I just couldn't handle it.  I couldn't help but think that if my brain weren't so plagued, I'd be walking around with madi. I tried on some cute clothes, had a misunderstanding with my mom, then stormed out of the dressing room and walked off like a teenager pitching a fit.  I couldn't put my finger on what I was so upset about...I just knew that I was absolutely furious and wanted to cry. Once we talked it out, I figured out that my heart was aching seeing all those mothers and daughters and knowing that nobody knew or even cared that I was in pain right there where I was. Thank the Lord for my mother...I've put her through as much hell as I've felt. We'll see where this goes. For now, though, I'm going to try to go to sleep.  Thank you for reading.

Stay On the Sunny Side of Life....

I am up at an ungodly hour and have been doing this for about a week.  I am soooo not a morning person, and  don't understand. At least this time I can use this normal annoyance for good. I won't have any time to write tomorrow...we're doing the family thing on our way home from the beach. So I decided I would tell you a short funny story, and then try to go back to sleep. So, here goes....
     I had gotten back from a 3 month stay at the Meninger Clinic, but came back worse than when I got there. I had tried again to commit suicide (I promise the funny thing is coming up) again, and I was still hallucinating big time.  My parents had decided to take me to a University hospital because they had an outpatient program that was supposed to really help people with my diagnosis. The head of the program took me alone into her sizable office. I was hallucinating really badly that day and couldn't really concentrate. So, she asked both of my parents to come in and talk. Keep in  mind, I couldn't tell the real from the unreal.  But I knew that my friend Marx was sitting in the middle of the therapist's couch. Well, when mom and dad came in (my mom is 5'7" and my dad is 6'4" - I do not come from a small family), the room quickly became quicker. Mom sat in one chair, and guess where dad sat??? Yep...right in Marx's lap.  I totally freaked then, but we laugh about it now.  My poor dad squished himself all the way over as far as he could on the couch just for me.  I guess that's what daddy's do for their crazy daughter.  Can you imagine? And then there's the time that I couldn't quit hallucinating...I was in horrible shape. So I went into another hospital, called my mom and told her about all the crazy people that were there.  "how could they have done this to me?" I don't see things and I'm definitely not crazy. I have so many stories like that that could keep you rolling for days. They're the things I think of when I'm having a rough day. It's God's way of punching holes through my darkness. I just thought you might enjoy that. I'll be able to upload more pics of Agnes and my artwork when I get home.  I can't wait to see my baby with 4 furry legs and a tail like a whip. Night.

Agnes the Wonder Dog

I have a dog named Agnes. She's an enormous German Shepherd who thinks she weighs about 5 pounds. I think she has hidden wings though, making her my guardian angel. So much has happened in the past year, and she's the one who's been there the whole time to comfort me. But first, let me go back to where I left off....

I don't necessarily feel compelled to go into great detail about the hospital stays that I had. There were a lot of day programs I attended once I was cleared to come home from whichever hospital I was leaving. A lot of the difficulty was that my symptoms were so severe that the doctors over-medicated me just to knock me out. There were times that I would sleep all day except for the rare two-hour awake period when I was able to hold my head up.

Then, for the first time, they got the mix right, and I was beginning to feel like a semi-normal person. I was given clearance to drive, I wasn't halucinating nearly as much as I was. I attended massage therapy school and graduated. I worked for a little while as a therapist and loved it. Then it hit again, like it did every time. As a side bar, people who have mental illness who take their medication still have lapses in their disease. That is what frustrates me most about my illness. Even when I did exactly as I was ordered by doctor, I would so frequently have to have my meds adjusted. It was only then that I realized that this illness was not my fault. I used to think I had done something terribly wrong, or that God hated me and just wanted to screw with my life. It's still hard to understand a lot of the time, but it's not my fault. Sometimes I have to repeat that to myself.

Onward we trudge. Whiile I was in school, on disability and pretty much single (except for the random guy I dated for 5 minutes), I got pregnant. I was equally terrified as I was exctatic. The "father" became extremely verbally abusive and wanted me to abort. So, I broke up with him and haven't seen him since, thank goodness. But, I knew the minute I left the relationship, I would have to be completely dependent on family to help raise my child. I can't tell you how amazed I was at the amount of support and prayers my family poured into my daughter and me. And I will never be able to thank them nearly enough what they deserve. My daughter and I were able to stay in our hometown until she was 2. Then we had to move near my parents. I had started halucinating again. I was depressed and dillusional so much of the time, that I wasn't able to effectively care for her. I'm so grateful that I didn't know then what time would bring to my relatonship with my daughter.

I would have my good days and my bad days. You might say,' well, that's what everybody's life is like'. I so wish that were true. But my highs and my lows were worlds apart from each other, and I had to have my parents keep her sometimes because I simply could not care for her. Talk about blaming yourself and feeling like the worst mom in the world.

This past episode lasted over 6 months, and my baby was with my parents that long, and she'd come over to play, but I noticed this time that she was trying to take care of me. I had to keep explaining that it's mommy's job to take care of baby...not the other way around. It broke my heart that I wasn't giving her a stable childhood. I knew how unstable mine was, and how much I've had to recover from as an adult. I did NOT want that for her. I cried, pulled my guts out, and cried some more. I didn't know what to do, but I knew it had to be something other than this. So, I called my oldest brother if he would think and pray about adopting my sweet baby whome I love with every inch of my being. Several months later, we all agreed that it had to happen. The switch had to be made before she was permanatly scarred.

So, she moved in with them, and the adoption is almost final. I think my eyes stay puffy from crying so much. My heart is out of my body and lives about an hour and a half away. It aches and is so angry. I hate mental illness. I hate my brain. I don't understand why I am the way I am. I don't understand why I would be given t his precious, amazing child, and then all of a sudden not be her main parent. They're doing an amazing job with her, and she's really happy and well-adjusted. It's like my mom said, "she's doing well....now all we have to do is get you well".

As a result, I live by myself. I had to change her bedroom because I would just stand there and sob as i passed her room. So I made it into my art studio.. I'm turning the play room into a yoga/meditation room. I'm trying to move forward, but sometimes I feel like it's one foot forward, three or four back. This is where Agnes comes in. For some reason, Agnes is my major comfort while I'm at home, lonely. She can hear me cry from the other end of the house and she comes in and starts licking me. She'll jump up in the bed and snuggle with me. That's why I say she's my number one angel. I don't know what I'd do without her. I'll have to see if I can figure out how to post a picture of her. i wish for all of you that you can have your very own Agnes. Life is extremely hard right now, but I've had to do something only a mother can do. I want her to have a good life where she's cared for and loved well, and that's where she is. Please just pray that things get easier.

In closing, Agnes, the Wonder Dog, I luuuuuv you and am so glad you're mine :)

Let's start at the very beginning...

, let me Introduce Myself . My name is Jenny. I'm 32, and I've Had Quite a life . A lot of good, and a lot of bad . To begin, I Had , What I Thought Was a normal childhood . A family full of dysfunction and a lot of love . I Was a bit of a troubled child, to You Would not Have Known it to look at me . I Was Able to keep a happy face you for Quite a while. When I Was In The 8th Grade , I Was Hospitalized for depression. It Was an absolute fiasco ! I Was Surrounded by drug dealers and gang members. Then There Was Little ol ' me in the corner Trying not to get in anybody 's way . It didn't feel funny Then , But Now I laugh about it . I Continued -through highschool Fairly Easily , Yet Still depressed . I Began HAVING flashbacks of Trauma That HAD Occurred When I was little , and Began to figure out Why I Felt The Way I did. I Thought That's Where It ended. i would learn how to deal and Would just go on to lead a happy life . Well , let's just Say I Was clueless .
After I Graduated from highschool , I went backpacking -through Ecuador , got sick as a dog , and HAD to come home early . Once I Recovered , I Had to prepare for school in Germany . I Was Thrilled about going to Europe , yet Not That Thrilled About the school . It Was a Bible school , and I Knew THEY Would not Know What to do With A Girl Who drank and smoked and didn't really Believe What They Were Talking About . The worst part, though , included none of argument. I started " seeing faces and Random Things . I would react to a person 's presence When no one else around Me That I Knew did " The Same . Soooo , I came home yet again , to go back Into Therapy and Have the doc tell me that I Was just imagining Those Things . I Had Developed year eating disorder and horrific body- image issues, just like a good dancer Does, Or So I Thought .
About 9 Months Later , I Moved to North Carolina ( Go Heels !) to stay with a friend of mine . I liked it so much That I got my own place. I wasn't Seeing Things At The Time, and WAS Thrilled To Have a job bartending at a bar on the Main street of a college town . I dated Someone for a while , and Became unbearably depressed When We split. I Could not sleep , eat , or take care of myself. I Called my mom 've I sat With A Razorblade On the side of my bathtub , begging for Anything That Would make me feel better. So , I drove home in the snow and Went back to therapy . This time THEY Decided That I Needed to Go to inpatient Treatment in Arizona. I Started out at a local hospital at home , Then TRANSFERRED out there . I WORKED hard and did " What They Told Me . I came out "a new girl " ( Or So I Thought ) .
Then The Cutting Began . It Gave Me Such A Rush , goal I Mostly Did It For Some relief Of The extreme bread I Was feeling. By Then I Had Been Sexually abused as a child , and raped Twice as year adult . I Felt like trash , to WAS clueless as to how-to changes That .
To shorten this up a bit, I Have Been Hospitalized 14 times in my 32 years . I Started Seeing Things and Hearing Things . First , I Thought There Was Blood Everywhere And That There Were people screaming . None Of The drugs helped , except I blew up like a balloon ( Which did " wonders for my self - esteem, let me tell you! ) . First I Was Diagnosed with Multiple Personality Disorder ( Went to a hospital for that) , Then Bipolar With psychotic features. Finally THEY Decided That I Have schizophrenia .
That Was about 10 years ago . I Can not Even Begin to Tell You How It 's Turned my world upside down . I Think That's Why I Decided to blog about it . So many people do not understand schizophrenia , let alone mental -illness . We Who are plagued With Some form of Mental Illness Often feel so misunderstood . I just want to shed a little light On the subject by telling you What I've been through. I hope it helps. Take it or leave it. I would love to begin a discussion not only about mental illness, but what role we've played in society. I'll try to stay away from the "work incentive" that they have for "us" that doesn't work at all, but I'm sure I'll hit on it. I hope you enjoy and get a few tidbits of information that you didn't know.....thanks :)