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 :)