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.

1 comment:

Andrea Rouda said...

I'm no shrink but it seems to me that your job is harmful to your mental health. Can you find something else out of doors, or something withing walking or biking distance? You seem happier and healthier in natural surroundings.

I was in therapy for man years, and finally saw that it helps only so much. The rest is up to you to accept your unique thought patterns and embrace your self as an artist. Artists are never "normal." Paint, draw, do whatever!