TheBanyanTree: The Schizo Diaries, October 24, 2004

[Monique]

	I caught him the other day. Caught him in a moment of happiness.
Caught him red-handed. We're similar in some ways. Sometimes I forget things
and doubt myself, and sometimes, when he's in one of the dark pits of his
illness, he forgets that there is more to his life than that. All he
remembers, when he's down there, is that life sucks, that it hurts, that
there are things that no one can help him with when he needs help, that
there are demons out to get him, that he is alone and sad and knows no joy.
	That's what he knows when he's bad, and he forgets anything that
gives lie to this illusion, or he buries it, or he dismisses it as a fluke. 
	And so I remind him. I remind him when he's in a bad place, and when
he's happy and laughing and things are going well I point it out to him, I
tell him he's been caught, that life is not all bad and that there is joy in
it. "Damn!" he says, or something similar, or he laughs, and I can tell that
he feels almost embarrassed, that he feels as if he's not even entitled to
be "not miserable," that perhaps he's acting inappropriately. 
	We're only driving to Barnes and Noble to go book shopping - we've
had something to eat, we're going shopping, then back to my place to watch
TV. And he's laughing, we're talking and making jokes, and when I point out
to him that he's been caught being happy he's almost ashamed, as if his
illness should preclude such an event, as if he's supposed to be miserable
all the time.
	He has just now been declared disabled and unable to work by the
State of Washington. He has been unable to work for several years, but that
was with private disability, and now that's gone, so now he needs public
assistance. And he thinks, I know he thinks, deep down, that as a recipient
of aid, he should not be happy, or enjoy life. 
	This is, of course, absolutely ridiculous, but we are not always
logical about these things. While receiving aid makes him feel worse, it can
also help him. He is now eligible for other programs, for other aid, perhaps
now he'll be able to get help with medical and drug expenses. So far, that's
all been out of pocket, at retail, and the pockets are not particularly deep
and some of the drugs are particularly expensive. (But they keep the demons
at bay and are necessary for survival.) And perhaps now he can get some of
his medical issues looked at. His bad eyes. He can't be out much at night at
all by himself, not just because he sees and hears things, but also because
he can't see very well. He is sick often, retching and nauseated and in
pain. Perhaps his ulcer is back. All of this has been neglected because it
is expensive and there has been no health coverage. Maybe, I desperately
hope, some of this can be looked at now. I must see a doctor soon myself,
but that can wait. It has to. I don't have medical insurance. I need a
couple of things looked at and I need a crown. But let's not even go there. 
	The demons visited him the other evening again. They were behind
him, hovering, and we chatted online about it, and I told him they probably
just wanted to use his computer, that he should go to bed, get some sleep,
and by morning they'd be gone. I think it worked. Of course, the concept of
demons being computer literate does not do much for my peace of mind, but it
would explain the increased spam I've been receiving. Who else would be
involved in such things? 
	But I caught him being happy, and I pointed it out to him, and we
laughed about it, and he was glad to be caught. One of his greatest fears is
that he'll be considered not disabled. It's an awkward position. He IS
disabled, but he can still be productive and happy and NORMAL, but if he is,
it's as if being those things negates being disabled. And if he's not
disabled, there is no help for him, he'd be declared "lazy" and "unwilling"
instead of unable. I take the position that he can be all those things. Not
lazy and unwilling, that's not what I meant. Disabled. Unable to work in a
conventional environment with conventional hours. He can still be productive
(and IS), he can be happy, though of course his "issues" will mean he'll
have more than his share of unhappiness, he can be as normal as any of the
rest of us wandering around doing our own peculiar thing. Normality is, in
my opinion, not only highly variable but also highly overrated. 
	And it's the little things we have to look for in order to enjoy
life. Some days I feel overwhelmed and hopeless and incapable. And then the
smallest thing, seemingly insignificant, will make me laugh, or be a
positive indicator of things to come, or make me feel safe, and I will feel
as if I'm the luckiest person on the planet. I tell him to try to see the
little things, because that's what makes up our whole. Happiness does not
come in large chunks, but in little pieces, like a jigsaw puzzle, and we
have to put it together ourselves.
	But I've strayed. I caught him being happy and feeling joy, just
doing routine things, and I pointed it out to him. That's my job. 


Monique