20 January, 2013

If Bones Could Talk

My bones protruded morbidly
My  flesh decayed with certainty
I smiled, danced and laughed with glee
they called me a deformity. 
Why do you dance and prance about
While us with life wish to avow
That joy is not what we all want
We're waiting for our time to come.

Yes I am gross and so decayed
I laugh and dance and prance so gay
in health I found I never lived
I died and found an awesome gift.

You are a fool, you are a kook
you certainly don't know the truth
You speak of joy and laugh with glee
But we know life IS misery.

I will not argue with you dears
and I can no longer shed tears
but now I'm more alive that thee
though worms live where my heart should be.

17 January, 2013

Diary of a Schizo: Work

Work sucks for a lot of people. I'm no different. The bus ride that begins the day is also the onset of daily morning sickness. I like to think of it as morning sickness even though I'm probably not pregnant because just writing- I'm so anxious I'm nauseous every morning is kind of depressing. So I try to hide in the back of the bus and not look at anybody.

The kid, I think he must very much want friends. He follows me to work again and we talk about a few things. I'm not much for conversation but try to be polite: I mention the Orioles might make it to the Superbowl and he laughs and says it's the Ravens. I try to pretend I said that on purpose.
At work, I unstaple about 3,000 documents. Maybe more. One of the scanners compliments the orderliness of my work. I say thank you. Not many more words are said today. The worker on the desk next to me, Mary is from China and she talks and laughs at me sometimes. I smile and laugh even though I usually don't know what she is saying. She is a very nice lady. I just wish I understood her more(and I give up asking after not understanding 3 or 4 times).

The workplace to me solidifies the idea of Seattle Freeze to me- polite yet unfriendly. It's also somewhat corporate. I don't think this is necessarily bad- Seattle has a strong independent streak, but for someone who is so introverted it is not the best environment. One of my best friends is loud, hyper and black. I'm the exact opposite, but I think sometimes we need something different to break us out of our ruts. Whatever they are.

 I try to remind myself that it won't be forever and finally getting a comma in my check account balance, I have a bit of comfort that could allow for changes in the future..

16 January, 2013

Diary of a Schizo: Hot Yoga

A few days back I went to a new yoga studio and passed out in the shower. This studio, which was a Bikram studio was terribly hot even by hot yoga standards. The other yoga place I had been going was hot also, although I didn't usually develop a puddle on my yoga mat there. Sadly, though it was a nice studio, it was something like $17 a class and I make roughly $nothing so the decision to spend that same 20 for a trial month at the Bikram studio seemed to make sense.

The new studio also had the benefit of being slightly bigger, hence having more than one guy in every class. Being a male, I find it kind of awkward to often be the only guy in class. I don't stare at the other yogis or anything, but it is such an awkward situation to begin with!

Every studio, like gym seems to have different social rules. Some are friendlier than others. I've only made one friend though - the guy who woke me up when I passed out. I made a few acquiantances at the old studio, but these places aren't very social. Being in Seattle, home of the Freeze, most people are polite enough, but pretty much to themselves and they're there for yoga, saying Namaste and sweating wayyyy too much.

I'm really glad I didn't faint on my second visit there. It's not really the health problems that worry me about that. Or the fact that I was laying naked on the gym shower floor. I just found it embarrasing.

15 January, 2013

Diary of a Schizo #1

I am probably not schizophrenic in the clinical sense but have enough symptoms of mental illness to qualify for either schizotypal personality disorder or possibly schizoaffective disorder. Not that any of this is going to matter in this blog. I hate diagnoses. Not to belittle the pain emotional problems cause, but labelling diseases is I believe much more harmful in categorizing and boxing someone in.

I was first labelled years ago when I attempted suicide and aside from the very real troubles of growing up, these diagnostic boxes have made my life just that much more difficult. I don't think it's all "someone else's" fault- Being able to justify laziness or idleness with "depression", social faux paus as "schizophrenia" or "anxiety" is a very real problem.

These writings(hopefully I can keep up with it for a while) are going to be about me putting my thoughts out there as honestly as possible. I'll try to mix it up a  little. I really don't want to write about the same bus ride and the same odd converations I have every day and I'm sure you don't want to read about them.

What I hope to present is just the ramblings of a mad man who is, I hope, somewhat sane. Although I don't represent the entire mentally ill community, there are many more like me out there than there are those who actively seek to hurt others.


I called my therapist to let him know I did not want to make an appointment right now. It has been weeks since I have seen him and I've gone through this before. Getting fed up with talking to the human equivalent of a wall.

He said he was concerned about me on the phone. He said he wanted to see me. I listened and tried not to yell back at him. I said I had not made any decision yet but I am tired of therapy. I feel like it is boxing me in, it's an unhealthy codependent relationship, I told him. He didn't agree and said again he wanted to see me. I told him I'm busy with work and have not made any final decision yet. He said he'd call back later.

I'm tempted to see my counselor again even though I don't feel it is helping me move ahead. I am having a lot of trouble looking at people or at cars. It all seems like a minefield I want to say. No. That would just be complaining. I have to be stronger. Find a way through this. Start with saying hello to people.

I feel nauseous. I managed to stuff down  a banana for breakfast. I ran then caught the bus to Issaquah. The kid is staring at me again.

I try to look at him just to nod and apologize but I'm feeling very nauseous. I just want to disappear. He's still staring. I feel like shit. I don't want to go to work and I don't want to be here. I nod at him and stare out the window.

The bus arrives at the transit station. I try to help a lady find her bus but can't help her beyond that. Sometimes I don't pay enough attention to other people, like her. I black out a little and fade back in as I'm walking to work.

The work itself is temp work. It's not especially hard but terribly tedious factory work. I'm thankful for the work and try to do a good job but it's like slowly going insane. Since being there I've been getting more and more dissociative spells- feeling outside of my body and reality kind of like Alice in Wonderland and it frustrates the hell out of me. I say goodbye weakly when I leave but noone hears me anyway.

I think about the things I can do, the reality I can pay more attention to. I watch the beautiful clear sky as I ride the bus home. I make a few notes of things I need to work on- emails to send to farms, artwork I need to plan and calls I need to make.

I begin to write a blog.