Alex’s grandparents came and took Alex and I to Longhorn for lunch. We had cheese fries for an appetizer. I had a steak that was absolutely divine. This time it was cooked to perfection medium rare on the rare side. I love it when the cook knows what I mean. Some sear the outside too much until it is charred, but this time it was perfect. Alex ate a bite and was impressed. I keep hoping to convince him to make the leap from burgers to steak, but he still has not graduated to that degree of finesse.
They liked our Jeep and looked at it. We talked some about my illness and they seem more open to me than usual. Alex went to bed and left me up with them. He was up late last night and wanted a nap. I was surprised that they decided to give me some money to help with our bills. They donated $300.00 and I was very grateful. I know that solving this mess is much larger than such a sum, but at least it showed they cared about our plight.
I am not sure there is much I can do about all the creditors, but next week maybe I can try to call some of them and explain what has caused the current problems. I do not expect any understanding, but at least I can tell them the truth. I am not a bad person, I am just in circumstances beyond my control. Truth is my control has been limited for many years.
I read the comment by Reeking Havoc today and I was thinking about what he said. The thing is that Schizophrenia has been a prominent part of my diagnosis for many years. I often have audible hallucinations and I suffer from delusions on a good many of my better days. Mostly I just function in spite of this. The Schizo-affective disorder tag was only applied to me since 1997 when I began to evidence huge amounts of depression as a part of my everyday life. I have been on anti-psychotics anytime I was medicated since 1981 and on anti-depressants since 1997. I will go off meds when I am not under stress and function normally for some time on rare occasion. I hate meds. They take away my ability to be normal and I am not happy with them ever. Since 2000 I have been continuously medicated. I have been on Geodon and Zoloft all during those years and also have been on the hideous drug called Seroquel for part of that time. I came off of it in January of this year. It was causing sleep disturbances that I could not tolerate any longer. It had also caused weight gain that was beginning to reverse before my latest hospitalization. Now I have had a full blown manic psychosis which probably pushes me over into the category of bi-polar too. I am now on Geodon to treat the psychotic tendencies of the Schizophrenic part of my disease and Depakote which is a mood stabilizer to treat the Bi-polar symptoms.
This past week the delusional bits of my Schizophrenic parts were very apparent to me. I was thinking in the erratic and laughable ways that tell me I am being just a little too bizarre for reality. It is not really dangerous it just lets me know how totally insane I really am. I think things that are way to weird about normal situations and if I allow it to go on I wing out of reality totally. I just monitor it and let my counselors know I am becoming loony. I find it mostly benign, just so long as it is not accompanied by voices that are virulent in their enmity toward me. I can even deal with bleed through voices usually, this happens when machines, televisions, radios, printers, electronic devices, and other miscellaneous noise producers seem to be projecting voices, say when many are running at once. I deal with this often by simply putting on headphones and listening to music. A good walkman is indispensable for me for this purpose and was recommended by Jeff and then seconded by Dr. Klopper. I can usually calm myself when I am even having audible hallucinations just by listening to my own discs.
I have learned a lot of coping skills over the years and can seem rather normal, but the reality of what I live with is only hidden by a faint surface veneer. I am very scared by this new manifestation of yet another type of dreaded disease. I feel reasonably safe to find very little hope for achieving any of my dreams and I still had a lot I wanted to do. I have lived an impoverished and inadequate existence for so many years and now it just looks like more of it to come. I hate my life, I never achieve any of the high points I so desire.
Mother is putting me down again. She wants to blame me. She has no conception of what living the life I have been forced to live has done to me. I have lived to protect her for so many years and even now she cannot realize that my life was hell on earth before I can even remember. She has no idea how the abuse I was subject to and her own brand of scathing hurtfulness tore my being apart. The kind of damage I was doled out is irreparable.
Again I understand why others in such situations choose suicide. Living is not a choice of lesser pain. I could let go all this and be released into something no doubt better. Dealing with the problems is continuing hellish hurt. I do not even know why I remain, there is no sense to it. I have been suicidal before, trying several times, but it never worked. I guess I have become convinced I cannot even do that right. People tell me that since God did not allow me to die that I must have some purpose, I find that doubtful. I just cannot do anything successfully. I find it laughable that God gives a care one way or another about me. Mostly He seems some bystander who watches. My faith is at very low ebb. I find little solace in prayer, it seems just empty words to some anonymous entity.
I wonder what is good about writing in this blog. I seem to myself so cheerless that it would be better did I leave others to find other more worthwhile material. I know I cannot be proud of anything I say here in such dark moods. I pour forth darkness on the world. I can only speak from a heart so broken and despairing of life that it bleeds. I relate to Poe in his deep darkness and may go and find him again as he is the only writer that appeals to such relentless despair in me. In such times as this I have often mired my life in that great writer’s works. I know the depths are calling me when I seek out that master, but he only appeals. Poe is in the outbuilding hidden away so finding him will be difficult, but the search might satisfy the overwhelming sadness that engulfs me. Nevermore sounds soothing, like the approach of doom.
I have no idea how to be up for Alex’s 17th Birthday which is Monday. He deserves something special as he is a great person despite having one of the most screwed up mothers in the world. I think if I just disappeared and allowed him to get on with his life with no more interference from me that he would make it well. I am more a detriment to him by now than ever I have been an asset. I guess I will try to take him out for a nice dinner and make sure he at least enjoys that much. I wish I could get him something, but that is beyond me.
I wish there was something hopeful and positive I could share with you who read me here, but there just is not anything of that type in my heart. I am sorry to be so disappointing. Maybe another day will come and some of my better characteristics will arise, I doubt it just now, but even when one no longer believes miracles can happen on the odd and weird occasion.