TheBanyanTree: Schizo Diaries, 7/6/04

[Monique]

Now blogging at: http://schizodiaries.blogspot.com/ - previous episodes
found here!
 
 
 
I wonder sometimes if anyone is reading. I wonder how I manage to keep
sleeping on my ear wrong so that I wake up with it sore. It's 3:18 am
and I wonder why I'm awake. 

These are questions not easily answered. I'm rather profound this time
of day, so watch out.

Stew owes me an essay. I told him that several days ago, that now that
he was coming out of another crisis he needed to write it and send it to
me. He hasn't done so yet, and when I mentioned it yesterday, that he
still owes me an essay, he asked, "About what?"

Sigh.

I told him about what, and he said, "But I don't remember anything."
That's one of the problems with documenting, isn't it? How's he supposed
to tell about things he can't remember? 

But I remember. And once again I want to say to him, in my most
patronizing tone of course, "Gee, that must be so hard for you!" He'd
look at me like I'm demented, as he should. Sometimes it's hard to know
what to say, though I know him well enough to always forge ahead anyway.
I know that's rare though -- it's not entirely common for people to be
able to relate to what he's going through; it's outside their
experience, they don't understand it. 

It is a betrayal, and who wants to think of betrayal? His brain has
betrayed him, and if we can't count on our own brain to tell us what's
what, what can we rely on? It's the closest thing we have to us, and
while it doesn't always tell us the truth, that's often to protect us,
to hide things we'd be best not seeing. But for it to consistently lie
like that? 

He did well on the 4th. Called me once and left me a voicemail, where I
was in a sea of other people, waiting for the fireworks, to ask me to
tell him that people weren't out to get him. I called him back when my
cell let me know I'd missed a call . . . my service was jumping in and
out. And I reassured him. Told him that no one was after him, that when
he and Honey were out walking and there was all that noise and people
and fireworks they weren't after HIM, or even her, they were just doing
what people do, and that he'd be safe inside, that no one wanted to hurt
him, or get to him, and that'd everything would be okay.

After the fireworks show, when we made it back to the car, I called him
again, just to follow up. 

I like to follow up.

And he was doing okay. Honey had fallen asleep, and he was about to,
despite the noise still outside. He was okay. He did good. The following
day he seemed to be fine, unaffected by the trauma of the previous
night. 

Onward and upward.