TheBanyanTree: The Schizo Diaries, 6/14/04

[Monique]

I wonder sometimes when I'll get the chance for a normal life. Normal being
a rather vague term, of course, and open to interpretation. And would I even
know what to do with a normal life? Not bloody likely. Still, I'd like the
chance to see. Actually, I don't even care about normal. Just financially
stable. That's all. I can deal with the other stuff. It's medical, it's
physical, it's stuff to deal with, it can be dealt with, but it's easier to
deal with when one is assured that one has a roof over one's head and enough
money to get by on comfortably. To get a crown should one need one. Or
emergency car repairs. Or the ability to pay one's bills on time and start
whittling down the collection calls. 

THAT'S ALL I WANT. I can deal with the mental health crises. I can deal with
the uncertainty of the marketplace. I can deal with trying to find med
management that is affordable when funds are limited and funding has been
cut everywhere. I can deal with talking down someone's paranoia, dealing
with the depression and anxiety, I can even forge through my own periods of
collapse and fear - if only I weren't stressed about the MONEY. 

Poverty and mental illness. It's not that the mentally ill can't work,
because they can, and they do, and it's not that they're useless, because
they most certainly are not. It's just that mental issues take a lot of
energy. Both for those who have them and those who care for them, and when
all that energy is being expended to stay alive, earning a living just
becomes that much harder. And with the uncertainty of the marketplace, it's
just . . . that much harder. And when one is self-employed and counting on
flaky clients in order to earn a living and help support a mentally ill
person who most certainly does not get enough in disability to support
himself, one can easily find oneself in trouble.

By one I mean, of course, me. It is all about me, from my perspective. It's
as if I'm suddenly a borderline myself, forget everyone else, what about me?
Why does this have to affect me like this? When do I get a break?

Okay, that's stupid. It's not about getting breaks. Even while writing it I
knew it was stupid, but did it stop me? No, most certainly not. Why? Because
even at my most rational, I can be irrational. Even at my most giving, I can
be self-centered. I thought for years that to be self-centered was wrong and
would result in severe punishment because who was I to deserve that? But
honestly, if I'm not self-centered, who will be? I mean, who will think of
me first? Who has time for that? I do, it's my responsibility, my task, my
issue. And I've had to learn, sometimes the hard way, that if I don't do
what needs to be done and take care of myself first, then I'm the one who
suffers. And if I suffer, I'm no use to anyone.

Be that as it may. There you have it. We all have stuff. Some people think
my stuff is worse than theirs, but is it really? I mean, other than the fact
that I'm destitute and broke and who will ever want to marry me again NOW?
Other than that, am I any worse off than anyone else? I'm much better off
than many - but I do hate being broke, and I hate trying to work for clients
who don't want anything done because they don't want to pay for it, and I
hate what I do for what I make from it - I want to do other work, I want
other revenue streams. It's the MONEY, that's all it is. And because it's
just money, I feel fortunate.

Everything else is doable. Sure, maybe no one else will ever want to marry
me, but I have a great relationship with a great guy right now. I have my
health, most of it anyway. Some pain in my legs, and my exhaustion lately
has led me to believe that my fibromyalgia is coming back with a vengeance,
but that's just me worrying about something that most likely isn't
happening. I hope. After all, I don't feel the pain in my body that I
should, if it were fibro, like I used to. Being touched does not hurt me.

A very wonderful friend recently sent me some of her music. I listened to
it, enchanted. It was wonderful. She is amazing. Have I told her that? No, I
have not. I meant to. I mean to do many things I don't always do.

My nephew recently smashed his car into a pole of some sort. A Ferrari. He
was trying to pass someone, or something, perhaps going too fast. Spent
several weeks in the hospital, three surgeries, 2nd and 3rd degree burns.
He's home now. My sister is grateful every day that he's still alive. I am
grateful he is alive, and recovering. I can't imagine.

I can't imagine what some people go through. I am surrounded by great
people, and I can't imagine what it must be like to be surrounded by people
who aren't so great. Wait - perhaps I can. Perhaps I have been around people
not so great, and perhaps it was not so good. I am lucky.

I can't imagine what he goes through, seeing and hearing things that aren't
there, fearing things that exist only in one's head, sometimes not knowing
if reality and what one knows are the same, or different. Emotions that run
rampant over one's logic. Mine do that too, of course, I am nothing if not
an emotional being, but there are degrees I think. And I have a pretty good
grasp on reality, in most cases, except when it comes to my own perceptions
of me. That's where my reality gets a bit screwed up. Or a lot. I find
myself to be a hideous troll-like (which is odd, considering my height)
unlikable creature with a dull personality who is noticeably awkward,
clumsy, ill-spoken, and often perceived as daft. Like I said, that's my
perception. Your mileage may vary. But otherwise I'm pretty much in reality.


Or I suspect I am. Maybe not.


Monique