Morning Therapy

I woke up to my alarm at 8:30 this morning, rolled out of bed and went downstairs to make some coffee. After eating breakfast, I drove through snow-covered roads to the mental health center. I checked in, waited for a few minutes, then my therapist Jeannine came and brought me back to her office.

We talked about what has been happening in my life.

"How is the librarian stuff going?" she asked.

"OK. I should start looking at schools soon. I'm still a bit ambivalent about it though. Looking ahead at the coming year, I think I may want to start working at some point, and I don't know if I'll need to go through an adjustment period before I start taking classes as well."

"That makes sense. Have you inquired about volunteering yet?"

"Yes! I finally called and talked to the volunteer coordinator."

"Good for you, Mike!"

"Thanks. I picked up a volunteer application and now I need to fill it out and return it."

"So this is still something that you want to do?"

"Yeah, I guess so. I'm not exactly looking forward to it intensely, but I think it will be good for me to get out and have more of a routine. Plus it will be a step toward getting back to work."

Later she asked, "How is the overeating going?"

"Ummm, not so good."

"Has it decreased at all?"

"No, not really."

"Do you have a sense of what is causing it?"

"I'm not sure. Sometimes it may be stress, but other times it just seems like a habit."

"I think that you need to come up with a plan," she said, "something that you do whenever you get cravings. Tell yourself that you will do it, say, three times. You may still end up overeating, but you will begin forming good habits as well. Also, some people find that if they get in a good routine, their overeating decreases. Perhaps volunteering will do that for you."

"I hope so." I replied. "I do feel like I have excess mental and physical energy that may make my cravings more intense. Being busier may improve things."

Soon time was up, and we scheduled an appointment for next month.

Now that I'm home, I need to clean the bathroom, because we are having relatives over for a New Year's Eve poker game.

I want to wish everyone a wonderful night, and a new year full of hope and promise.

Hopes and Burdens

I've been listening to some old mix tapes I made when I was in high school. They take me back to a different time in my life. A time when I was so sure of myself. I had a good group of friends nearby, a girlfriend, the soccer team. I was a leader in Boy Scouts, and a writer and editor for the school newspaper. But my nostalgia is tempered by the fact that I was also depressed and full of angst and anger toward what seemed to be an unjust society.

Since then I've had much happen that I would have never dreamed of. I moved out to California. I was diagnosed with Crohn's disease. Had a few different girlfriends. Lived in Tijuana, Mexico for six months. Moved back to San Diego near the beach, made new friends and learned to surf. Eventually I had a psychotic episode, was diagnosed with schizophrenia, and ended up back in New Hampshire, living at home again. Life has come full circle, yet I am a much different person than I was back in high school.

There is little that I regret, yet much that I may never accomplish. I always assumed that I would have a successful career, buy a house, get married, and have two or three children. Over the past year I have come to terms with the fact that all this may not be in the cards for me. It no longer frustrates or angers me. Que sera, sera.

I do still have some hopes and dreams though. I still want to get married someday; I feel having a partner to share life's ups and downs with would eventually be important to me. Right now, however, I feel it is enough to sort out my own life, without dealing with someone else's psyche.

Also, I think that some sort of gratifying work would be good for me in the long term. Work seems to give people a sense of purpose and satisfaction.

But I am no longer jealous of my friends that have career track jobs with stock options and a 401K. That is great for them, but may never materialize for me. It is my own life, and I need to set my own goals and try not to compare myself to others.

We all have our own burdens to carry. And I must do the best I can with what I have been given.

Christmas Day

We woke up Christmas morning, and gathered around the tree to open gifts. "Why don't you pass out the presents, like Dad used to do," my mother asked me. I agreed and got down on my knees to reach under the tree. We opened gifts, and afterwards had a big breakfast of eggs, bacon, potatoes, coffee and orange juice. It was a pleasant morning.

After breakfast we drove down to Cromwell, Connecticut where my grandmother lives. She was having the annual Christmas dinner with all my aunts and uncles and cousins on my father's side. It was nice seeing everyone. A couple of my cousins just had babies in November, so there were a couple new babies around for us to dote over. It was my cousin Eric's first child, and he cradled his son with the proud smile of a new father.

Before eating, we always pass out small glasses of Asti, an Italian sparkling wine, and somebody gives a toast. David was asked to speak this year, and we all crowded into the living room, holding champagne glasses, listening to his words. He started, "First of all, I want to remember Grandpa and my father, who will always be with us in spirit." Continuing, he congratulated the parents of the new babies, and Mom and Roby for their marriage. Then he thanked Grandma for having the party and staying strong all these years. His delivery was great, and the content was moving. When he finished, we all clinked glasses together, wishing each other a Merry Christmas.

The food was delicious, especially the much anticipated lasagna. My Italian grandmother has made it for years, and recently she passed down the recipe to her daughter Dianna; now they make it together. Aunt Dianna said that she went to three different specialty shops to get all the sausage, ground beef, noodles, and fresh ricotta cheese. It was perfect.

After dinner many of us fell asleep in the living room, despite drinking my grandmother's strong coffee that she always brews. The smell of coffee will always remind me of her house.

Overall I was able to handle the socializing and activity pretty well. I went upstairs to the guest bedroom to take a couple breaks, and once in a while sneaked outside for some fresh air and a cigarette. Eventually people started leaving, giving everyone big hugs and well wishes.

Later David and I were sitting alone with Grandma in the living room. She said, "Roby seems like a really nice guy. I'm glad to see your mother has found someone she is happy with." I was relieved to hear these words, because we were a little worried about how Grandma was handling my mother's remarriage. I think it was hard for her, because it was a strong reminder that her son is no longer with us.

Soon we all went to bed, content with a nice Christmas celebration.

Merry Christmas!

Wow, I've been really busy. John came in from New York City yesterday, so I've been hanging out with him and David. John needed to finish his shopping today, so we went out with him. I made a pot of chili tonight for a party I'm going to on Wednesday. Also, I helped David make sugar cookies. I just finished wrapping presents, and now I need to clean up the kitchen and go to bed. Despite all the activity, I've been holding up pretty well. I may not be around much for a couple days, because we're going down to Connecticut to visit my relatives tomorrow.

I want to wish everyone a very Merry Christmas. May all of you have a safe, wonderful day!

The Holiday Season Continues...

We went to the Christmas party for Roby's side of the family last night, at his daughter Jackie's house. Roby has eight children, so with the wedding my family suddenly became much bigger, adding many step-brothers and sisters. It is funny to think of them that way, though, because most of them are much older than me. Roby is about fourteen years older than my Mom, resulting in a large gap between the age of their children.

At the party, David was talking about his plans for winter break, saying "No, I won't be working, but I'll be productive through..."

"Define productive," Mom said, giving him a hard time

"Well, I've been exercising, and I'm working on a business plan."

"So what you're saying," Jackie interjected playfully, "Is my fifteen year old son will be working more than you will during vacation?"

"Haha, yeah, I guess so."

They did not say anything to me, but I felt embarrassed about my own unemployment. Much of society's definition of a productive individual relies on gainful employment. At times, not having a job brings on feelings of inadequacy. Perhaps I am not pushing myself hard enough? Some of the symptoms of schizophrenia are lack of motivation, apathy, and social withdrawal. But how do I separate these symptoms from normal feelings of self doubt, fear and laziness? Since I was diagnosed with schizophrenia, I have tried to take things slow, so I would not become overwhelmed. But have I let myself coast instead of climbing the path of recovery?

"So what do you plan on doing next summer?" Mom asked David.

"Well, I'm starting to apply to internships. I'm hoping to get one in Boston or New York."

Boston or New York... that's when I realized that David may not return home for the summer. Small pangs of sorrow rose in my chest. I will miss him if he doesn't come home after next semester.

The party continued, and overall it was pretty good. David and I hovered near the food tables and ate until we were stuffed. Roby's family members are all personable and friendly, so it is easy enough to get along with them. It was a good way for us to get to know our new side of the family better, even if I felt awkward and nervous at times.

The holiday season continues, with one more party down.

The Never Ending Parking Lot

David and I went to the mall today to finish up our Christmas shopping. We expected the mall would be busy because it is so close to Christmas. The mall is surrounded by parking lots on all sides, and when we arrived, we encountered a good amount of traffic coming and going through the lots.

It did not take us very long to complete our shopping. Soon we were getting back into the car, ready to go.

We started off slow, because it was bumper to bumper traffic traveling on the road that brings you around the whole mall. Soon we went from moving slowly to a dead stop. Literally, we would move one car length, then wait five to ten minutes to move another car length.

After about an hour, I left David with the car and went back into the mall to buy some soda and snacks. When I returned, David had hardly moved.

About a half hour later, I asked David, "How many miles per hour do you think we're averaging?"

"I don't know... how far do you think we've gone? Maybe five or six hundred feet?"

"Six hundred sounds about right."

"Well, we don't have anything better to do," David said, pulling out the calculator on his cell phone. "There are 5,280 feet in a mile, so..." A few seconds later he said, "We're moving .025 miles an hour!"

"We're cruising!"

Finally, about an hour later, we started moving faster. By the time we actually left the mall property, we had been driving for over three hours!

It actually did not seem that long; being with David made the time go by fairly quickly. But I have never experienced traffic like that before.

And thankfully we are both done our Christmas shopping now.

Remicade and a Brightened Day

I arrived at the hospital this morning at nine o'clock, as scheduled. I entered Admissions, and told them I was there for a Remicade infusion. Remicade is a medication designed for Crohn's disease; it is administered every eight weeks to maintain remission. My gastroenterologist convinced me to get on it when we realized that I needed more aggressive treatment for my Crohn's.

This was last spring- I was feeling fine, when suddenly one night I started experiencing abdominal pain. My Mom was out to dinner with Roby, and when they returned home, I was lying on the couch clutching my side. I thought it might be my appendix, so I went to the emergency room. After doing some imaging tests, the radiologist and surgeon determined that my intestine had perforated, requiring emergency abdominal surgery. After the surgery, my doctor started me on the Remicade. I've been in remission since being on the medicine.

So this morning, after checking in with Admissions, one of the nurses brought me upstairs to a hospital room. Basically, I sit there on a hospital bed while the Remicade drips through an IV into my body. They feed me lunch, and take my vital signs periodically.

My nurse today was about my age, with brown hair and a contagious smile. She was warm and friendly, and really brightened my day. Everything went smoothly, and I was out by early afternoon.

After I returned home, I could not help but think about the nurse... I guess in the short time at the hospital I developed a bit of a crush. It was nice to feel romantically towards someone... even if it was just a fleeting dream.

A Phone Call and a Candidate

Today I finally persuaded myself to call the library to inquire about volunteer positions. I used Kelly Jene's idea of rewarding myself if I called, and it worked!

So I talked to the volunteer coordinator, and she described the process to me. First, I need to stop by and fill out a form. Then, if they have any work that would fit me, I go in for an interview, and after that, they do a criminal check. They do not make it too easy to provide them with free labor. Oh well. I'm relieved that I actually set the process in motion.

This afternoon David was reading the paper, and said to me, "Did you know that Barack Obama is going to be in town tonight?"

"Oh yeah?" I replied. Since we live in New Hampshire, where the first in the nation primary is held, we constantly have presidential candidates coming through to drum up votes. It allows us to get plenty of exposure to the people running. I take my vote seriously because whoever wins New Hampshire and Iowa has a good chance of winning the party nomination.

"There is a number here to call to reserve seats. Do you want to go?" he asked.

I am registered as an independent, allowing me to vote on either a Democratic or Republican ballot, and I have not yet decided which ballot I will take or which candidate I will vote for. I thought it would be interesting to participate in the process by listening to a candidate speak, so I agreed to go.

It was held at a local hotel in a large room with space for about 500 people. First Obama gave a speech, then took questions from the audience. I have to say that I was impressed, but not blown away. It was a good opportunity to see a candidate in person, and I am glad I took it. I am still undecided, but now I want to go see other presidential hopefuls so I can make comparisons between them.

Delectable Dinner and Dessert

Today Mom was out shopping for Christmas presents, and called home mid-afternoon to ask if I would make some turkey soup for dinner. After I hung up, I diced onions, carrots, and celery and threw them in the pot to saute them with butter and olive oil. Once they were partially cooked, I poured in some chicken stock and let it simmer while I cut up the broccoli and the left-over turkey from the Christmas party. I dumped all that into the pot with some spiral noodles and let it simmer until it was cooked. My family said that it was really good.

After dinner we took some of the remaining wedding cake out of the freezer to defrost. We made coffee, and once the cake was thawed we dug in. The cake is almond flavored, with alternating layers of amaretto and raspberry frosting, covered with a butter-cream frosting. Delicious!

No, Not Yet...

There is a new study out, reported by schizophrenia.com, saying that people with schizophrenia are less likely to get cancer, despite the fact that many of them eat poorly and smoke. Heart disease- that's a whole different issue- we have plenty of that. Not so much cancer.

Turns out, there is a genetic link between cancer and schizophrenia. While in cancer these genes cause their cells to multiply out of control, in schizophrenia the same genes slow them down, seemingly preventing cancer. Interesting.

Anyway... yesterday one of my Aunts asked me if I was working, and I had to answer, "No, not yet." This came to mind today as I was trying to convince myself to call the library to ask about volunteer opportunities. I have been wanting to volunteer for a few months now, and I put it off and put it off... but now I am out of excuses. I need to find the motivation to do it. I almost feel guilty for not working or volunteering.

I have read some people say that working was an important part of their recovery from mental illness, that it gave them the purpose and discipline that they needed. Why would I think that it will be any different for me? I guess I just have bad associations with work because of previous jobs I have had, and I am cautious about how I would react mentally to all the stress and activity of a job.

This is why I consider it important to start volunteering first- so I can ease into it and develop a healthy mindset for working. If only I would pick up the phone and call...

A Party With the Family

David finished his last final exam yesterday and was supposed to drive home from college last night to avoid the huge snowstorm that was to start early this morning. However, he fell asleep at his girlfriend's place and did not wake up until four AM, and by the time he hit the road, the storm was in full force. Fortunately he navigated the storm safely, and jumped into bed as soon as he arrived at seven AM.

I first saw him a little before noon, when he got out of bed. I noticed how groggy he looked. "A little tired?" I asked.

"Man, I'm exhausted."

"How was the ride?"

"I could only see fifty feet in front of me, and the median line was completely covered with snow. I had to go at forty miles an hour the whole way. At least there wasn't much traffic at that time of day."

"Well, I'm glad you made it OK!" I said.

"Ha, me too! It was a long drive. So... is the Christmas party starting soon?"

"Yeah, people should be arriving in a half hour."

David jumped in the shower, and pretty soon my relatives started trickling in.

The party turned out well. I did not suffer from much anxiety, which was nice. A few weeks ago I was starting to dread the holiday season, because of all the socializing and family parties I could see on the horizon. But now that I've made it through Thanksgiving and the wedding, and the first Christmas party, I'm starting to feel more confident. It does help to have David around, because we stayed by each other for much of the party, and he is easy to converse with. I am glad he is home for winter break.

Cleaning and Snow Pictures

Tomorrow my Mom is throwing the annual holiday party for her side of the family so today we are spending time cleaning up the house. I vacuumed the downstairs, and I will soon clean the upstairs bathroom.

Yesterday I used Mom's camera to take some pictures of the snow, since her camera is much nicer than mine. I thought I'd post a few that I took. The falling snow that you see in some of them is coming down from the trees.

Snow Covered World

As the Snow Falls...

It is snowing, and it is coming down hard. I was standing outside looking out at the backyard, smoking a cigarette, and listening to the falling snow hitting the trees and the ground. It makes a peaceful sound like thousands of tiny fairies lightly tap-dancing all at once. I feel fortunate that I do not have to go anywhere; I can enjoy the snow without worrying about driving in it.

Now that I do not have to expend energy preparing for the GRE anymore, I feel this would be a good time for me to get serious about dealing with my unhealthy relationship to food. To put it lightly, I have a serious snacking problem; I overeat on a daily basis, and I have not been able to stop myself.

So tonight I pulled out a book that I had purchased from Amazon a few weeks ago called The Overeater's Journal: Exercises for the Heart, Mind and Soul. It is full of journaling exercises to aid in recovery. Divided into three main sections, it addresses the physical, the emotional, and the spiritual aspects of addiction. It is based on the premise that through writing one can start to come to terms with their problem and gain self awareness on the way to recovery. The first exercise is creating a meal plan for the day, and then recording what you actually end up eating.

Part of me does not want to do this and would rather maintain the status quo. That part of me likes overeating.

The other part of me sensed a spark of hope- the possibility of no longer being at the mercy of my desires for food.

We'll see what happens. Either way, I feel I am one step closer to confronting my problem with compulsive overeating.

Light as a Feather

Well, I took the test today, and since it is administered on a computer, you get the results for the math and verbal sections right after you finish. And the results were good! I ended up scoring higher than I was aiming for, so I am very happy with how everything turned out. I will not get the results for the essay section for a couple weeks, but I'm confident that I did fairly well on those as well.

I feel relieved to have it behind me. I actually feel lighter than I did this morning since I no longer have it weighing on my mind.

I think I will sleep well tonight.

Prepared and Ready to Go

"So, big test tomorrow, huh?" Roby said to me today. "Are you all prepared?"

"Yeah, I have a couple of last things I want to look over, but other than that I'm ready. I've learned all my vocab words, studied all the material, and I've taken a few practice tests, so I feel pretty comfortable going into it tomorrow."

I found my own words reassuring, as my actual feelings have been up and down today. At times I felt nervous and stressed, but for the most part I've remained fairly calm. I know that in the big scheme of things the GRE is rather insignificant, but regardless I could not help but get a little worked up about it. But it is out of my hands now. I've done the preparation and I just need to do my best.

I'm about to take a nice hot shower, make some tea, and try to get to bed early so I am rested tomorrow.

Minor Thoughts of a Simple Day

I went out today to pick up cigarettes and return some books to the library. It snowed a couple more inches last night, so I enjoyed driving around looking at the snow covered world.

I am down to my last couple days of studying for the GRE. Now that I am facing the test date this week, I feel slightly nervous about taking it, but at the same time I feel pretty confident that I'll do well.

Over the past few weeks I have fallen out of the habit of meditating every day and reading spiritual literature. Today I was reading a publication that was about different people who have found strength in their spirituality to become more accepting of what life brings. It was relaxing to read. And it gave me hope to read about people who were able to change their mental habits to deal with life more gracefully. It was a reminder to try harder to integrate meditation and spiritual reading back into my life.

A Decorated Christmas Tree

Well, we waited until after dinner tonight to decorate the tree. We made hot chocolate and pulled out the ornaments. Here it is:



My mother loves birds, so we have a birds and bulb theme for the tree. Here's a few birds in the tree:


Just as we were finishing putting the ornaments on the tree, we looked outside and realized it had started snowing. So we turned off all the house lights and sat around the tree while snow fell outside the window.

Getting in the Christmas Spirit

I awoke this morning to a knock on my bedroom door. It was Mom.

"Roby and I are going out to breakfast, and then we'll pick up a Christmas tree. You want to come?"

"Sure!" I replied. "I'll be up in a minute." I was pleasantly surprised that we were going to get a tree today.

Soon we were in the station wagon driving to a nearby town where there is a tree farm that lets you cut down your own tree. On the way we stopped at a small restaurant. To my delight, they had a breakfast buffet. I loaded up my plate with scrambled eggs, bacon, home-fries, and a small pancake with strawberries and real whipped cream. All that with a hot cup of coffee. It was delicious. After I was finished, I even went back for a piece of apple pie! I shouldn't have, but it was a small piece, and it was calling to me.

We left satisfied, and drove to the tree farm. It is a nice family run business, and the mother came over to tell us where to go for the trees. We grabbed a saw and a plastic sled and started stomping through the snow up a hill to a clearing where all the trees sat. Right away we found a full, round tree. We brushed off the snow to get a better look at it, and decided that we all liked it. After cutting it down, we plopped it onto the sled and pulled it down the hill.

Walking through the snow covered woods, smelling a freshly cut tree really put me in the Christmas spirit. I thought of my friend Andrew, who is also getting a tree today. He's really excited, and I hope everything goes well for him.

After tying down the tree, we went to a tent the owners had set up that had cookies and hot chocolate. We each had a cup and chatted with the workers.

We finished our hot chocolate and began our drive back home. The radio played Christmas songs the whole way.

Here is a picture of our tree on top of the station wagon. I'll take another picture when we get it up and all decorated.

A Calm, Elderly Man

Roby is a hospice volunteer with the visiting nurses association, and part of the work he does is taking part in vigils. The volunteers take shifts staying with people who are dying so that they constantly have someone with them until they pass away.

Roby spoke to me about a man he visited today. He said, "He was really in a good place, so calm. He had everything together. It is good to see someone who is not terrified of dying."

He paused, then continued, "You know, everyone keeps telling me I should do volunteer work that is not so depressing... but it doesn't bring me down at all. I feel I get a lot out of it. And that nursing home I went to today is great. They really do all they can for the patients."

"It's encouraging to hear of a place like that," I said.

"Yeah, I had heard about it, but until you see it, it is hard to believe. Each room even has its own patio and the doors slide open and they can push the patients' beds right out to get some fresh air. Really nice."

When my time comes, I'd rather die at home. But if I ever need to be in a nursing home, the one Roby visited sounds like a good option.

I think of that man, peacefully awaiting his own death, and I wonder... how will I respond when it is my time to go? Is it a blessing to see your own death on the horizon, counting down the last breaths? Or would it be better to pass away during sleep? I think I would want to be conscious for my last moments.

On a lighter note, I took a practice GRE test today, and I did fairly well. I'm feeling more comfortable with the test as a whole, which is good, because I take the real thing next Wednesday.

At the Bank

This afternoon I was sitting in the lobby of my bank, waiting for Eric. I had some money saved up from the last job I worked before developing schizophrenia, and since my expenses are low because I live at home, I had a little extra to put into an IRA retirement account. I had to meet with Eric to decide how to allocate the money. Within a few minutes he arrived, and took me into his office.

Eric is probably in his mid-fifties, with graying hair and a professional demeanor. He needed to know my financial situation, to make sure I would not need to take any money out of the account. So naturally, he asked the question: "Where do you work?"

I do not disclose that I have schizophrenia to people I have just met, because I feel stigma is still common when it comes to mental illness. So instead of being explicit about why I'm not working, I said, "I've been between jobs for a while because of health problems."

"Is your health OK?" he asked, showing some concern.

"Yeah, I'm OK. It's getting better."

"Where was the last place you worked?"

"At the Journal of the American College of Cardiology, as an editorial assistant," I replied.

"Oh, you have a medical background?"

"No, I have an English degree, so it was more for the editorial work."

"Do you have any sources of income?"

"I am on disability, so I have some money coming in from that."

Satisfied that I would not be withdrawing money out of the retirement account, he left it at that. He did not pry, nor ask any further questions about my health. I noticed that my face was hot, and I realized I was probably blushing from nervous energy. Although this sort of conversation makes me uncomfortable, it was good for me to have practice discussing this type of thing.

He spent almost an hour talking to me about the different mutual funds I could put my money into, until I made a decision I was happy with. I appreciate him taking his time with me, considering the modest amount of money I was putting in.

I left feeling good about the appointment, but happy to have it behind me.

Blood Work

"Welcome home!" I said to my mother and Roby this morning when I came downstairs and saw that they were home. "Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah, it was really nice. We took some pleasant walks in the snow. I'll be glad to get back to eating regular food though. We ate out all the time, and the breakfasts they made us at the bed-and-breakfast were very good, but fattening! That's OK, though. It was our honeymoon."

They showed me pictures of the place they stayed at, and video from the wedding.

This afternoon I went to the local hospital to get my blood drawn. I left my car in the parking garage, and walked up the hill to the hospital. I wonder how older, sick people make it up this hill, I thought to myself. I walked at a brisk pace to escape the cold. Once in the hospital, I walked to the right and entered the laboratory.

After signing in, the woman behind the window said, "You can come on back." I stepped through the doorway and took a seat next to the receptionist.

"Do you have an order slip?" she asked me.

"No, it's a standing order."

She looked through a file cabinet and found my doctor's order. "Diagnosis? OK, it says it here: Crohn's disease."

"Yes," I confirmed.

I was diagnosed with Crohn's disease approximately four years ago. At the time I was feeling constantly worn out, I had abdominal pain, my appetite was non-existent, and I was losing too much weight. (The most common symptom of the illness is persistent diarrhea, but fortunately that has never been a serious problem for me). After various tests, my doctors told me I had an inflammatory bowel condition called Crohn's disease. I've been taking medicine for it ever since. Right now it is in remission, and I feel good physically. I have blood work done every month to make sure the disease is still in check.

"OK, we're all set here. The technician will draw your blood now."

I followed the technician back to the second room on the right.

"Have a preference of which arm?" he asked.

"No, whichever looks better to you."

I am not too squeamish when it comes to getting my blood drawn, and he was skilled at his job, so after a little prick, we were soon done, and I was on my way.

Sushi and the Supermarket

Without my mother here, the food supply has been steadily dwindling down. So today I finally decided to go food shopping. When I entered the store, I noticed that my heart rate was up, and I was feeling slightly anxious. Public places are not always a problem for me, but the supermarket in particular makes me nervous. It is there that I am most likely to bump into people I am acquainted with.

Despite some social anxiety, I made my way through the store picking up items on the list. I was looking for something easy for dinner, and I stumbled across a sushi display. I love everything about sushi- the seaweed wrap covered in rice, the wasabi and soy sauce, the ginger, the chop sticks- everything, except- the raw fish. Problem solved: I picked out a vegetable roll that contained cucumber, avocado and shredded carrots. I think of it as sushi for beginners.

Sushi in cart, I weaved through the rest of the store, picking up what I needed.

When I found the last item on the list, Chap Stick, I started to move toward the checkout and finally ran into someone I knew. I was relieved to see that it was Mrs. C, one of my mother's friends.

"Is that you Mike? I'm not good at picking up faces when people have baseball hats on."

"Hi, Mrs. C, how are you?"

Her son, who is about my age, has bi-polar and also lives at home with his parents. Although I do not know them very well, I feel a connection to their family, since they are dealing with some similar mental health issues.

"Did your mother get married last weekend as planned?" she asked.

"Yeah, it was a nice ceremony. Everything went well."

"Oh, good to hear. You know, you guys are being so good about the whole thing. I know it must be difficult having someone new come into the picture, but it sounds like you and your brothers have been really supportive of your mother, and that's great. Roby really means a lot to her."

"I know," I said. "It's good to see her happy with someone."

"Now, did I hear that you're planning on going back to school for library science?"

"Well, it's not definite yet, but I'm thinking about it."

"I hope whatever you decide to do works out for the best."

"Thank you."

We said goodbye, and our conversation was over. As usual, the chance encounter that I had feared was not nearly as difficult as anticipated.

After getting through the check out line, I pushed my cart outside to the car, and loaded up the trunk with groceries. Mission accomplished.

And my sushi dinner was delicious.

Let It Snow...

I woke this morning to the rumbling of a snow plow clearing off our street. Looking out the window, I was greeted by a white landscape.

This is the view looking out at our backyard. On the fence are Christmas decorations, and our shed is in the background.

My mother called today. It sounds like they are having a nice honeymoon. They decided against anything too extravagant, and instead drove up to a nice bed-and-breakfast in northern New Hampshire. They've been taking winter hikes in the surrounding hills.

She owns an apartment building, and ever the vigilant landlord, she had called one of her tenants to see if the driveway had been properly plowed this morning. Then she called me.

"Michael, the plow went through, but the sidewalks need to be cleared a little bit. Could you go down and do that for me?"

"Sure, no problem," I said.

So I dressed up in warm clothes, scraped off the car, and drove down to the apartment building with a shovel. The job did not take long, and soon I was back home. I stayed in the rest of the day, watching the continuing snowfall from inside the warm house.

A Day of Reflection

I woke this morning to an empty house. I thumped down the stairs and put some water on the stove for my coffee. When the kettle started whistling I picked it up and poured it over the coffee grounds I had scooped into my French press. As I waited for the coffee to steep, I rolled a cigarette and thought about how quiet it is here now that everyone is gone. My brothers left yesterday, and my mother is off on her honeymoon with Roby. I suppose I grew accustomed to the companionship of my brothers; now I found myself in the social vacuum created when they all returned to their busy lives.

Despite experiencing some loneliness, I felt pleased with how everything went. In fact, I had surprised myself: I anticipated becoming run down and mentally weary with all the activity and socializing, but I feel I handled it rather well.

I ate breakfast, drank my coffee, and went out to smoke my cigarette. I thought of Fay, who sat next to me at the wedding. She knew my father from a kidney support group, where my father had gone when he was on dialysis. When she was leaving the wedding, she said to me, "Your father was a great guy. Very calm and content." Her words struck a chord within me, and I thought of my father's own words, "The most important thing in life is to be content." It amazed me that Fay described my father the same way he would have described himself. Despite his protracted illness, I never heard him once complain. He accepted what life gave him with a positive attitude.

Back in the house, I watered the flower arrangement that we had given to my mother. I'm trying to keep it alive until they return from their honeymoon. Some of the flowers are already starting to die, but I believe some of them will survive. I'll just weed out the wilted ones so only the live ones remain.

As the day continued I found myself dealing with bouts of nostalgia, triggered by a song on the radio, or a movie on TV. Apparently the wedding stirred up my feelings, making me more emotionally sensitive.

I'm going to try to get to bed earlier tonight so I can rise at a reasonable hour.

I hope to wake up to a world covered in snow.

Love and Marriage

Yesterday, at five o'clock, I needed to drive my mother and her matron of honor down to the wedding hall so they could get dressed and prepared for the ceremony that was to be held at six. Carol, the matron of honor, lives across the street from us. I grew up with her son, and so she was like a second mother to me. I call her "Aunt" Carol, even though we're not related. We were talking as we waited in the car for my mother to come out of the house. Aunt Carol said, "I hope he's the right one for her. They sure seem happy together."

"Yeah, they do," I replied. But her statement shook me up a little bit. I started thinking, Is he the best man for my mother? What if he isn't? My mother got in the car holding her dress, and I, feeling a bit unsettled, drove them down to the restaurant.

By six o'clock all the guests were seated, waiting for the ceremony to begin. The groom was standing up front, patiently waiting as well. Soon the music started and we all turned to see Aunt Carol making her way down the aisle with an elegant bouquet of calla lilies. After she took her position up front, my mother started to walk down the aisle. When I saw her, a wave of emotion rose up in my chest, but I pushed it back down, as I did not want to cry. We all stood up as she walked by, and the ceremony was underway.

The Justice of the Peace spoke eloquently about the union of man and woman in marriage. At times I was lost in thought. Mom's getting married. How do I feel about this? What am I supposed to think? I felt slightly disconnected from what was enfolding in front of me.

After they exchanged vows, we all moved to where the tables and dance floor were set up, while they took pictures of the bride and groom. I was still experiencing feelings of ambivalence during the hors d'oeuvres and dinner. The appetizers were great, though: breaded and fried balls of cheese and broccoli, stuffed mushrooms, scallops rolled in bacon, and more. Dinner was excellent as well.

At one point I bumped into my Aunt Dianna, who is my father's sister. My mother invited my father's family to the wedding, because she still wants to remain close to them, even though she is getting remarried.

"Hi Michael," Aunt Dianna said, putting her arm on my back. "How you holding up?"

"Not bad. How are you?"

"All right. I miss your father, but I'm happy for your mother. She has to move on."

Another wave of emotion welled up inside me at the mention of my deceased father. I managed to say, "Yeah, they're happy together."

After dinner the DJ sat Roby in the middle of the dance floor, and my mother stood next to him with a microphone. She sang a beautiful song that she had written about spending the rest of her life with her best friend. As I listened to the loving words of the song, and saw them gazing into each other's eyes, my mixed feelings started to drop away, and my heart felt lighter.

Later, my mother's sister Debbie came and sat next to me. She said, "Hasn't this whole wedding been beautiful? Every day I thank God for bringing the two of them together. They are so good for each other. For them to find one another like that is amazing." She's right, I though to myself, it is great that they have each other.

The wedding wrapped up around eleven o'clock. My brothers, their girlfriends, and I all packed into the car and drove home. It was a good night of festivities that was much easier to handle than I had anticipated. I thought that I would have trouble socializing with so many people, but I stayed relatively calm.

Later that night, David looked outside and said, "It's snowing!" Sure enough, there was white fluffy snow falling from the sky. We all put our shoes on and went outside to enjoy a moment of early winter bliss and savor the last moments of the day.

Flowers for the Bride

My brothers and I went to pick up some flowers for my mother. We picked up a large arrangement with hydrangeas, sweet roses, red roses, sunflowers, and more.

We left the flower shop on the west side of town, and drove across the river into downtown to pick up John's girlfriend at the bus station.

When we arrived, John said, "You're going to have to get out, I'm stuck here." He had the giant flower arrangement wedged between his legs, and didn't want to risk dropping it.

I got out of the car and started walking across the parking lot towards the terminal. I saw a blond haired girl walking towards me. I've only met her once, and she's gotten a haircut since then, so it was hard to recognize her.

"Is that you?" She asked.

"Yeah, Stephanie?"

"Yep," she said. "I didn't know it was you now that you have the beard."

She is very gregarious, and immediately struck up conversation. "I took a nap on the bus, and set my alarm so I wouldn't miss my stop. I didn't want to end up in the next city!"

When we got to the car, she hopped in the back seat, and greeted John with a kiss. Then she said, "You look really good Mike. You look healthy. Vibrant."

"Thank you," I said, smiling. It was a kind compliment that warmed my heart.

Last time I saw her was months ago. I may have been on Risperdal at the time. I think the medicine dulled my personality. Or maybe the Abilify that I'm taking now is better at alleviating the negative symptoms of schizophrenia. Either way, I have noticed that I've been feeling better the last few months, and I'm grateful to be on Abilify.

OK, time to get dressed up for the wedding.

The Brothers Return

I went to pick up my brother John at the bus station at five o'clock. He's as lively and animated as ever. I don't see him too often, since he lives in New York City, and it is nice spending time with him. His girlfriend, Stephanie, will come into town tomorrow afternoon.

My mother and Roby were at the hall/restaurant doing a run-through of the ceremony, and ate dinner there afterwards. John and I ate the chili my mother left for us simmering in the crock pot, along with some fresh cornbread. I appreciate what my mother does for us. She cooked food even though she wasn't eating at home.

David arrived with his girlfriend Leliah around nine. We spent the evening catching up on things, and laughing and joking. I'm feeling good, and enjoying having them around.

We also made sure we had all the clothes we all need for the wedding. Tomorrow John and I are going to run a few errands and pick up a black belt and shoes for him. At some point we want to pick up some flowers for my mother as well. Then of course the ceremony and reception at night.

It will be a busy day, but I am optimistic it will all go well.

...And They Wait

My mother said today, "Boy, it's been a slow week." All the preparations have been made for the wedding; now they're just waiting for Friday to come.

There are a couple last minute things to get done around the house before my brothers arrive with their girlfriends: the plastic pumpkins need to be packed up, and my mother wants to make a pot of chili for tomorrow night.

It's my duty to get the upstairs bathroom all clean. "That should only take you twenty minutes," my mother said.

"Twenty minutes?" I asked, doubtfully. "I don't think so. Maybe I'm too much of a perfectionist, but it always takes me a long time to clean things."

But her comment spurred me on, and I scrubbed the tub and toilet in twenty-five minutes. I'll do the sink tomorrow...

Right now I have a load of laundry in the washer that I need to move to the dryer. I'm utilizing the machines while they're still free, as I have a hunch that my brothers will both arrive with baskets of laundry in hand. The last time my brother John came home he was lugging his dirty clothes in one of those big green trash bags intended for yard waste, filled to the top.

I'm looking forward to seeing my brothers, but I'm bracing myself for the flurry of activity that is soon to come.

Belts and Slippers

I realized today that I had "outgrown" my black belt, and I would need to buy a longer one for my mother's wedding. So off I went in search of a belt.

I went through the belt selection of four stores before I found a belt that both fit and looked good. The one I purchased was one of those nifty reversible belts, so I got a black and a brown belt, all in one.

Target was the third store I visited. Last time I was at Target was with my brother David when he was home for Thanksgiving break. He was eying up a pair of Moccasin slippers.

"Look how soft these are," he said.

"Mmm, those are nice," I replied. Then, not so subtly, "What size are you?"

"Nine and a half."

"These don't come in half sizes though. You think you'd be a ten?"

"Yeah, probably... why? You thinking about a Christmas gift?"

"Nooo...."

Real smooth.

So I picked up a pair for him when I was at Target. Sure he's expecting them, but he'll still enjoy wearing them.

And now my outfit for the wedding is complete: black suit with a deep red shirt, and a tie with both red and black in it to match. And of course black shoes and belt.

Just a few more days, and they tie the knot...

Waiting Rooms and Therapy

"Hi, I'm here to see Jeannine at one o'clock," I said to the receptionist at the local mental health center.

"Great, she's running a little late, but she'll be with you shortly."

I walked across the waiting room and took my seat against the opposite wall. I sat still, except for an occasional foot tap in sync with the U2 song being played over the sound system. I always feel pretty awkward sitting in waiting rooms. It would be easier if I would pick up a magazine and try to engage myself in some reading, but I consider magazines in public places off limits because of how many germs I imagine lurking throughout the pages.

I thought back to when I first started coming to the mental health center, sitting in the waiting room looking around at the other patients for some sign of sanity, some hope that mental illness isn't the end of the world. And although there were some sullen faces, I would also be amazed at some of the patients who seemed to be holding up just fine, engaging each other in lively conversation.

It wasn't too long before Jeannine appeared and led me back to her little windowless room. As I followed her I stole a few glances at her face, and noticed how tired she looked. She was also sniffling, as if she had a cold. Tough day to be a therapist, I thought to myself. When I see therapists, I always wonder how they are doing. That doesn't usually come up in our conversations though.

Despite the apparent fatigue and cold, Jeannine was still fairly cheerful and attentive. After checking in with the normal happenings of my life, she asked, "So is there anything else on your mind?"

"Well, my mother's wedding is coming up this week."

"How are you doing with that?"

"I feel OK with it. It's been such a gradual progression- first having Roby stop by occasionally, and getting to know him a little, then eventually seeing him often, and then having him move in with us- that I've become accustomed to the whole thing. Plus he's a good guy, so I do approve. But I'm waiting for the moment when it hits me that they are really getting married... and my father is really not around anymore."

"It's good you're aware that you may have some moments, even days, when it hits you emotionally."

"Yeah, I think it will be OK."

When the hour was about up, she pulled out her appointment book and penciled me in for next month. I left, feeling good about the visit, and looking forward to the rest of my day.

Early Morning Dreaming

I woke this morning with pleasant memories of the dream I was coming out of. I subscribe to the theory that dreams can be a vehicle for the subconscious to send messages and lessons to the conscious self. I had one such dream last night.

It took place in the future sometime, as was evident from a couple futuristic items, such as hoverboards (skateboards that hover- apparently my subconscious ideas about the future have been influenced heavily by Back to the Future). I kept asking my friends in the dream, Adam and Jeff, if I could use their hoverboards, even though I knew they would have no problem with it. Finally Adam said, "Yeah, dude, it's fine. Why are you worried about it? " And with those words, and his calm, carefree attitude that I sensed, a message arose into my mind. Don't be concerned with what other people think. Do what makes you happy. Granted, I should respect other people's possessions. But oddly enough, that was the message that came to me.

I've always been too anxious or sensitive about what other people think of me. I've known that I shouldn't be this way, but it is completely different when it comes to you out of the experience of a dream- I could feel the truth of the message.

I woke up to a slight dusting of icy snow on the ground, and felt peaceful. I felt hopeful. You can't control what other people think. You can't control the world. Do what makes you happy. I felt there was a world of possibility at my feet, just waiting for me to hop out of bed.

Quiet Sunday

It's been a pretty quiet day today. I'm trying to relax and take it easy. All this studying for the GRE has been starting to stress me out, so I took today off. I'm scheduled to take the test in little more than two weeks, and it's going to be a busy couple weeks because my mother's wedding is on Friday.

So I've decided not to volunteer at the library until after I take the GRE. At first I was disappointed in myself, because I felt committed to starting a volunteer job. However, as the test date gets closer and closer, I feel my preparation time running out, and I just don't want to subject myself to the stress of trying to do both.

I sat down today and strummed my acoustic guitar for a while, letting my thoughts and emotions float on the chords I played. The guitar is a cathartic instrument to play; it is so expressive and even percussive in nature, that is, one can strum lightly or harshly, thump out a rhythm or finger-pick a peaceful melody.

I hope everyone is having a peaceful Sunday.

Pangs from an Old Addiction

I went downtown today, to go to a smoke shop to buy incense and rolling tobacco.

As I entered the smoke shop I walked past hookahs, Buddha heads and psychedelic images on the walls. I surveyed the merchandise placed underneath glass counters: bongs, knives, pipes, and flasks. Welcome to New Hampshire's counterculture.

I felt little pangs of desire as I visually examined the multicolored, glass-blown pipes. It's been almost one year and eight months since I last smoked marijuana, yet there is still a part of me that wishes I could buy a glass piece, take it home and sit back and smoke a little nug of weed. I'll just do it on occasion, I tell myself, but the plea is short lived. I know myself better than that. I wasn't a casual smoker, and I doubt I ever could be. When I smoked, I smoked up all the time. Before work, after work, before dinner, after dinner, before hanging out with friends, while hanging out with friends, before bed... all the time.

That's how it was, and then I stopped, cold turkey. I have not smoked marijuana since the day I was admitted to the mental hospital in San Diego. From the hospital I came back east with my mother, leaving my California life behind me.

Had I stayed in Cali, it would have been incredibly hard to quit; it was part of my routine and my social life. Back home in New England, I was divorced from all the elements that would have drawn me back to the drug. Sure I craved it and longed for it... and I still have moments of nostalgia for my favorite herb... but I know keeping clean is the best decision: research has shown that those who have schizophrenia and smoke marijuana are more prone to relapses. I don't want to put my mental health in jeopardy.

My thoughts were wisped away with a pleasant, "What can I help you with?" I looked up, and saw a young, attractive woman with plenty of piercings peering back at me from behind the register. "I'll take these," I said, placing three small boxes of Nag Champa incense on the counter, "And I need some rolling tobacco."

I left the store satisfied with my purchase: sweet scented sticks and my second favorite plant to roll up and smoke. Sure, someday I'll need to quit that as well, but for now I'm just happy to be sober.

Slivers of Time

Roby took me and my mother out to dinner tonight. I ordered stake tips, which were cooked just right- medium rare, and charred on the surface.

Afterwards we stopped by my Aunt and Uncle's house to see my cousin, Tara, who is in town from Ohio. I haven't seen her, or her kids, in over a year, and the children have really grown (like children tend to do).

"Come look at these pictures, Mike," Tara said. I followed her into the den.

She grabbed a stack of old pictures, and we started flipping through. There we are, all dressed up for Halloween- cute kids in costumes without anything on our mind except how much candy we'll be able to rake in from the neighborhood.

The more pictures we looked at, the farther back in time we went. There was a Christmas from the 80's, with frizzy perms and rat tails. We came to a poker game that, judging by the gaudy clothing, had to take place in the 70's. Chips are on the table, and there is my father, mustache and big cigar, peering down at his cards.

My father loved poker his whole life. He saw it as a game of strategy and psychology, where the best man will win in the long run. When a young man, he entertained dreams of becoming a professional poker player, although he stuck to his accounting business. Regardless, he always went to his weekly poker game, and once retired, made plenty of trips to Foxwoods to test his skills. It was a passion for him, like hunting and sports are for other men. Even during his last couple months, when he was too weak to leave the house, he was able to enjoy playing online poker- a respite from the fatigue and illness.

And there he was in the photo, frozen in time: young, healthy, doing what he loved.

We finished looking at the pictures, and I left soon after. But my thoughts still linger on that photo, a piece of time stolen from decades ago, showing my father, forever smoking a cigar while playing cards.

A Thanksgiving to be Grateful For

Today I went with Roby and my mother to Roby's daughter Jackie's house. We walked up the front pathway to her house, rang the doorbell, and pushed inside. Paul, Jackie's husband, greeted us with handshakes and "happy thanksgiving!" We walked up the stairs from the entryway, turned, and I saw them- a group of about eight people I had never seen before. "Oh hell no," I thought to myself. I'm rather shy, and get intimidated by being around a number of people I don't know. But the introductions came and went, and the afternoon was underway.

My fears were unfounded, as everyone ended up being very pleasant, and nobody asked me any well-meaning questions that I'd be embarrassed to answer, such as "So Mike, what do you do for work?" "Well, Mr. person I just met, I'm on disability because I had a psychotic breakdown and the doctors tell me I have schizophrenia. Don't worry, I'm heavily medicated and like most people with my condition, completely harmless. Ha ha, what do you do?"

Of course I'd be more discriminating with my reply, but that's how I imagine it to amuse myself. Such simple questions such as these, however, are at the root of some of my reservations with meeting new people. When presenting myself for the first time, I feel like I can't fall back on the typical life that one is expected to have. I'm pretty much OK with the life I do have, but it can make casual conversation rather intimidating.

So, although there were no questions- there was a surfeit of delicious food- resulting in a satisfying afternoon. While I am disappointed that we didn't have the traditional feast with all my relatives at my grandmother's house, I am grateful to be welcomed into someone else's home and made part of their holiday. I remind myself that it is a lot more than many people have, and my thoughts go out to those who are in need or don't have family to share with on days like today.

I hope everyone is finding a way to have their own wonderful day, even if it is just taking a moment to reflect on what there is to be thankful for.

I am thankful for a lot of things, including a clear mind to compose these thoughts and a healthy body to type them with.

Happy Thanksgiving to all.

My Secret: A Serious Snacking Problem

"See you later," I say as my mother closes the door. She's off to run some errands, and I have the house to myself. As soon as her car pulls out of the driveway, I take up my position in front of the food closet, scan the contents, and decide where to start.

I rustle through the various packages and boxes, eating with impetuous desire. I eat and eat and eat, while being sure not to consume too much of any one item, so my habit will go unnoticed by my family.

This has been going on for months. I've gained 40 pounds because of it. I euphemistically call it my "serious snacking problem." If I'm honest with myself, I have to admit that I have the tendencies of a compulsive overeater.

I do have hope that the problem could spontaneously resolve itself. I developed a similar eating pattern in college, and after some time I was able to leave it behind me, without much conscious effort: senior year I stopped overeating when I had a really busy schedule. Perhaps a major shift in my schedule could have the same effect.

Regardless, I'm rather ashamed of the whole thing. It's something that I want to brush under the carpet and pretend doesn't exist. However, it is a part of my emotional and mental life that I battle with every day. Perhaps writing about it from time to time will help me confront it and get serious about overcoming the habit.

First Snow with Thanksgiving Coming Up

I woke up this morning and squinted at the light pouring in the window. I looked out, and saw everything was covered in white- the first snow of the year!

As I smoked my morning cigarette, sitting at the mouth of the garage, I observed the peaceful white world. The snow was clinging to the branches, bushes, cars and houses. This picture shows the view from where I sat.

I noticed the quiet that comes with falling snow. Everything seems silent, except for the muffled whisper of the snow hitting the ground. It is a wonderful silence.

Later in the day my brother David packed up and set out to meet up with his girlfriend to drive down to Pennsylvania where her family lives. He's going to be spending Thanksgiving with her family this year. I'll miss having him around for the holiday.

Usually we go down to my grandmother's house for Thanksgiving, but they aren't going to have a big family gathering this year because some of my aunts and uncles now have grandchildren of their own, and they want to start their own family traditions. So my mother, Roby and I will be going to Roby's daughter's house for the big meal. I'm not too excited about spending Thanksgiving with a bunch of people I don't know, but it will be good to get more acquainted with his relatives.

Well, that's it for tonight.

Stars and Peanut Butter

As I stood outside in my backyard, all bundled up, smoking my last cigarette for the day, I looked up at the sky and a faint smile came to my lips. Now that most of the leaves have fallen, I am able to see the stars through the bare branches- something to be grateful for.

I thought about how much more I end up talking and laughing when my brother David is home. It is a good workout for my communication skills. For a long time after the episode I was really quiet and reserved, and talking with David helps shake some of the rust out. We discuss a range of topics, including movies, music, politics, and our lives.

During dinner somehow we got talking about peanut butter balls. The name pretty much says it all: balls of peanut butter, flavored with honey, rolled up with rice crispies for crunch. It is a simple, delicious little dessert that my mother would make when we were kids.

David and I decided to make some, so we drove to the supermarket to get the ingredients. Back home, we measured out the portions, threw it all into a bowl, and mixed it up with a spoon. After shaping little balls out of the mixture we put them in the 'fridge and waited for them to chill.

When they were ready we dove in, each bite bringing back memories of childhood.

Before I sign off, here is the recipe (it's a great thing to make with kids):

3/4 cup dried milk
1/2 cup honey
1/2 cup peanut butter
rice crispies

Mix all the ingredients in a bowl, sprinkling in enough rice crispies to give it some crunch. Form into balls, then chill. Enjoy!

Laundry and Hugs

The house if full of the booming sound of my brother David playing piano and singing along to songs he has written. He has thanksgiving week off from college, and he arrived this evening with a basket full of laundry and big hugs for the family. It's always a pleasure to have him around. He livens things up a bit while he's here.

I saw my psychiatrist today. We're going to keep all the medicines the same for now, since they seem to be working well.

I slacked off a bit on my GRE studying tonight, since my brother is home. I've been really consistent with it since I started, though, so I don't feel too bad.

I'm going to wrap this up. I hope everybody is having a good Friday night.

A River of Peace

"How was the NAMI meeting?" I ask my mother as she takes off her jacket and puts down her purse. She had just returned from a support group for friends and family of people with mental illness.

"Good, I'm glad I went. It was good to see everyone again. Such sad stories though. I think that's why I stopped going after a while- it can get kinda depressing. Most of the people there are having a lot of trouble with their loved one and they need to vent and support each other. It's a really good group for them, I just don't feel like I fit in. You're just so easy to live with."

I smile. I feel fortunate to have such a loving, understanding mother. I know she is glad that I take the medicine that allows me to think clearly. Without the meds, there's no telling what state of mind I would be in.

"You know," I say, "from the schizophrenia recovery stories I've read, many of these people had really tough times, hit rock bottom, and eventually turn things around and end up being OK."

"Do you think it's the meds that does it for them?"

"Well, it's not the only thing, I think it takes more than that... but medicine is often the foundation for everything else. Medicine... and hope."

Having her go out to the NAMI meeting takes me back to when I first was diagnosed. I would lie on the couch in the living room, feeling so sad and depressed and I'd wait anxiously for her to get back from the meeting, hoping she'd bring some good news about my condition, some bit of hope. It makes me emotional to think of that time, wandering through the dark woods of a new, frightening diagnosis, desperately seeking a glint of light.

And I still remember a night later on when I was lying on my bed staring off at the ceiling, and spontaneously I started visualizing myself merging into a flowing body of water- a river of peace, a river that washed away all worry, that gave the strength to deal with anything that could possibly happen, including death.

I thought to myself, "this must be what hope feels like."

And suddenly, by the grace of God, I had something to hang on to.

Rays of Sun and Reality

I wake up at 9:30, flop over, consider jumping out of bed, but drift back into dream before I can move. I'm back in the arms of a girl with a smile and sweet words that slip in my ear and fill my heart. But she soon floats out of my mind, replaced by rays of sun and reality. I cling to my bed, unwilling to face the day.

Finally I make it downstairs, brew up some coffee and roll a cigarette. Outside, with my cup and smoke, my mind is flighty, jumping from one stressful thought to another- I need to sign up for the GRE- I need to call the library- am I lonely?- then I catch myself- pause- take a long drag, and exhale slowly.

I did sign up for the GRE today- I'll be taking it mid-December. Once I take the test, I'll be able to apply to a graduate school for a Library Science degree, if I so choose.

Unfortunately I did not call the library to inquire about volunteer opportunities today. I could detail my reasons for not calling, but if I'm honest with myself, they are really only excuses, and not very compelling ones at that. I still feel positive about it though- it's as if I peered over the edge today, and although I backed off, I'm that much closer to making the jump.

It seems pretty lame that I'm making such a big deal about something as simple as going to volunteer at the public library, but what can I do? In some ways it is a significant step for me, and I've always been one to look before I leap... oh well.

You'll Find Me in the Stacks

Well, it turns out the library is closed today for the holiday, so I'll have to wait until tomorrow to inquire about volunteer opportunities.

I've always loved books and learning and wandering aimlessly among the stacks of library books to see what I may find. Considering my predilection for libraries, I knew that when I started volunteering it would be at the public library. It struck me a couple months ago that perhaps I would be happy not only volunteering, but making a career as a librarian. I think I would find it satisfying working with people and being surrounded by books and research. Perhaps I'm getting ahead of myself, considering I haven't even volunteered yet, but it can't hurt to dream of the possibilities. Getting exposure to actual librarians and the work environment will be valuable in deciding whether it is truly an avenue I want to pursue.

I walked on the treadmill for 24 minutes today, up from my usual 20. I'm trying to work up to a half hour. It's not that I can't do it physically, I just find it boring. I've started listening to music while I walk, which has relieved some of my exercise ennui.

Well, I better get to work on my GRE studying.

Smokin' in My Little Room

I fired up the heater in the little room my father built in the garage for smoking cigars in the last few years before he died. I now use it in the winter for smoking cigarettes- as I live at home with my mother and soon-to-be step-father, I cannot smoke inside, and my little smoke room is the next best thing. It reminds me of where I was at mentally when I last smoked in there, at the end of last winter.

I was just starting to come out of my idle days of laying on the couch and staring off at the ceiling or at the pictures on the wall. I had been sleeping at least 12 hours a day, had completely lost my sex drive, and had no energy, stamina, or motivation, and generally just didn't feel like "myself." I was experiencing what is considered to be the negative symptoms of schizophrenia, such as lethargy, apathy, lack of motivation, and lack of emotion, causing me to become much more withdrawn and reticent.

When I was in the hospital in California, they started me on a medication called Risperdal. Fortunately this drug quickly eliminated the positive symptoms I was having (the paranoia, delusions and hearing voices), enabling me to be discharged and taken back to New Hampshire to live with my mother. However, I suffered from the negative symptoms of schizophrenia, in addition to dealing with the side effects of the medication- which are actually hard to distinguish from the illness.

Finally, near the end of last winter my new psychiatrist (who I am very grateful to have in my life) weaned me off of the Risperdal and started me on a medication called Abilify. After some time the new drug started to assuage the negative symptoms and I started having more energy, my sex drive came back (although still being without a sex life) and I started reading and reading and reading. I would read for eight hours a day, punctuated by trips out to my smoke room. Sure, I was still sitting around the house all day, but my mind was starting to become more active, I grew more talkative, and laughter and smiles came back into my life.

Thoughts of all this came back to me as I sat smoking a cig in the little room.

Tomorrow I Step Up

I slept in this morning- I’m trying to have a nice relaxing Sunday, as it is my day off from GRE (the test they make you take to get into graduate school) studying. I’ve been studying consistently 6 days a week in order to prepare for the test. If for no other reason, the responsibility of studying has forced me into a routine that gives some structure to my days, which I think is healthy for me, seeing as how I’m on disability and don’t work.

Tomorrow I’m hoping to take a step in the direction of getting back to work by calling the library and seeing if I can start volunteering for them. It’s something that I’ve thought about doing for a couple months but I just haven’t worked up the courage to call. It’s a bit intimidating for me to think of getting back out there in the world doing work amongst strangers that I don’t know, in a public place where I may run into old acquaintances from my high school days. I really haven’t been that active since my episode in the spring of last year.

But as I work towards recovery from my mental illness, I believe this is an important step to take. As my councilor/ social worker Janeanne pointed out, one can’t always wait to be full of confidence before starting a new activity- sometimes you need to take the plunge, take what comes, and build the confidence as you go. Tomorrow I hope to step up, get my feet wet by making the phone call to the library, and get ready for the dive.