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Home from the Grassroots Festival. The only day that was a bit problematical was the first day. We got a lot of rain. For most of the rain we stayed in the covered bleachers then the rain lightened up and we got to move around. The hard part was getting the car out of the free parking area. We got stuck in the mud but luckily someone helped my brother push the car through the worst of it and we made it to the road. For the next three days we parked by the side of the road instead of in the parking lot and that worked out fine. The parking lot was several miles away from the festival, so there was a free shuttle bus running 24 hours a day. We were fortunate in that every time we used the bus we got a seat whereas many people had to stand. Each time we used the bus we would tip the driver a dollar a piece, but I was surprised how few people actually left a tip. I didn’t envy the drivers. That kind of work is mind numbing but hopefully they got paid well for it.

There was a lot of music, so we only got to see/hear some of it. We gravitated more towards the African music which was consistently good. We got to see Vieux Farka Toure (son of the late Ali Farka Toure), Mamadou Diabate, Hugh Masekela and Samite of Uganda. The first two from Mali, the second from South Africa and the third obviously from Uganda. The headliner was Arrested Development which is a hip/hop type of band that was very popular ten years ago. I was somewhat into them then and was hoping I would be again but I didn’t respond to a lot of the music they played. It was overproduced, not particularly soulful. But after we listened to them we went over to the dance tent and listened to a Cajun band called Balfa Toujours and that lifted my spirits and I got to watch couples dancing which was fun. On Sunday we listened to a Mexican American singer named Christina Ortega. She had a great voice and I wouldn’t mind getting some of her music. Then we listened to a Canadian band, the Duhks who had two female singers (one a fiddler) that also were very good. We saw them the year before and my brother had gotten some of their music, so we made a point of going to see them. And the last non African band we got to see was The Avett Brothers. It’s actually a trio, classical bass, banjo and guitar and they do what my brother calls “folk/punk” and I thought they were a lot of fun too. All in all the music was good but no real highlights for me. Sometimes something grabs me but this time that didn’t happen. I can’t complain though because I did enjoy myself.

Part of what made the trip enjoyable was that we got a hotel room near the event whereas in the previous years I would drive 40 minutes to get to a hotel each night. One afternoon we went to eat at a very good Thai restaurant. We had Pad Thai (Thai noodles with shrimp), a beef curry, some Gai Tom Ka a chicken/coconut milk soup and some Thai beer--Singha. Eating Thai food is special to me because I got to go to Thailand for 10 days when I was 24 years old. I stayed with a friend/boyfriend who won a Fulbright scholarship. He had been there for six months and knew some of the language. He shared a modern house in Bankok with two young women. It was great to be in such a foreign and beautiful land with someone taking me for my own private tour. Thailand made a big impression on me. I almost didn’t want to leave. I could see how Vietnam veterans could choose to stay in Thailand and not go back to live in the U.S. There’s just something magical about the place, or there was to me then.

That was over 20 years ago before I met Brendan and before I fell ill with schizophrenia. Now, at this festival, I felt my age and my illness. Not acutely, not enough to really dampen my spirits, though the voices at one point started to act up a little, but enough to make me notice. But that’s all a part of life. Things change as time passes. I have to accept that I am not perfect, that no one is and that it’s okay. I’ve been given a chance in this life and I’ve made some poor choices but still it was my choice and I have to live with it. And I have to realize that I still have the power of free choice for many things which means I should try to exercise that power wisely.

We left the festival at around 9:30 and got home a couple of hours later. I did some praying on the way home because I’m not very happy about driving at nighttime. People put a lot of trust into their cars and into themselves as drivers. They have to or few people would get in a car and go places. I found myself missing living in a city with public transportation where you don’t have to worry much about accidents, though you may have to stay alert to the possibility that someone might hassle you, especially late at night. In New York City I could really get around because the public transportation was so good and extensive. To be honest, I didn’t love the subways but I was grateful to have them or I would never have gotten out of Brooklyn.

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(Next day...) Well, I went to the doctor today to get a pap smear done. I haven’t had one done since before I got sick so I knew I had to do it today but I wasn’t so happy about the idea of a man doing it. In the past I’ve had female gynecologists do it but there aren’t any I can go to nearby, so I decided to go ahead with it. It turned out better than I thought it would. I wasn’t too nervous and it went quickly. I also had him prescribe me some medicine that should help me quit smoking. I think I might try in about a month, just after I get back from visiting my parents. That will give me a little over a month at home before I visit my uncle in Chicago. Enough time to get used to it. The doctor says it’s a new drug, not an antidepressant and it shouldn’t interfere with any drugs that I’m taking.

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(Next day...) Exercised twice today and did some cleaning. Worked on putting together an afghan for my uncle. Talked to/with my therapist for 50 minutes. Did a little singing/playing. So I got some things accomplished today. While I was sewing together my afghan squares I listened to an audiobook called A Million Little Pieces by James Frey. It’s a memoir about his stay at a rehab when he was 23 years old. It’s graphic and sometimes moving and made me think of Brendan and also of myself. Listening to his story makes me look more closely at my own addiction to cigarettes, the habitual, addicted pattern of it. When I don’t know what to do, I light up a cigarette. Instead of facing my temporary discomfort I go for some kind of instant gratification and miss an opportunity to grow, to change for the better. I go on automatic. Smoking at the festival made me feel self-conscious but I did it anyway even though I knew there were children around. It wasn’t automatic. I thought and looked around before I lit up. I noticed some people smoking but it was a sad kind of comfort. I didn’t really want them to be smoking either. After I finished a cigarette I would take the stamped out butt and put it in a small zip lock bag that I was carrying with me. I felt a little like a delinquent adult. And I thought maybe this time next year I will have quit for good and I won’t have to worry about it anymore. Now I’m thinking maybe by October I’ll have gotten some distance from smoking. I think it’s important to quit while I’m home instead of on a trip because it’s home where I’m most addicted and it’s home where I have to fight the good fight. I realized pretty quickly that I’ll have to change my living room around so I’m not going to the same seat in the same place where I’ve been smoking for the past year. I have to make some concrete changes while the drug gives me respite from nicotene cravings. I also hope that I have an exercise program in place so that I don’t just start going for food in place of a cigarette. Also crocheting and listening to audiobooks is a good way to stay focused. And, God, I know it sounds a bit weird but I would love to get into cleaning the house. I want to stop smoking, to lose weight and to keep a clean and organized house. If I could accomplish that in the next 12 months then this will be a good year indeed.

Heading To Grassroots

Well I can’t get the audio through or a picture but I’ll keep fiddling with it a bit more, but the blog does come up which is a step in the right direction.

Tomorrow my brother and I go to an annual music festival that’s called GRASSROOTS. We’ve been going each summer for several years now. It’s an outdoor festival that lasts four days. There’s camping but we will be staying at a nearby hotel. We’ll bring our fold up chairs and set up in front of one of the stages. The music is varied, from African to country, blues, rock, etc... I particularly like the African music and I recommend it (try Ali Farka Toure or Fela). For the country music lovers they have a covered space where you can do country dancing. I’ve never really hung out there. They also have a couple of dance performances. There’s a gallery of work by local artists and there’s a long wall where people can paint whatever they feel like painting. There are also people selling handmade tee shirts, jewelry, musical instruments, hats/bags and assorted other things. And of course, there’s all kinds of food. The festival is one of the few places where Rob and I can eat both Thai and Indian food which we love. Everyone seems to have a good time and there’s a lot of dancing going on which is fun to watch, people just relaxing and enjoying themselves.

It’s one of the few places where I’m around a lot of people. For the most part, I like it. My therapist said to me that it’s a place where I can be around people but not have to interact with them. I like to watch people while listening to music. I like being outside with them. For the most part it’s a safe feeling there though a bit too homogenized (mostly middle class white people). I grew up in New York City and I got used to people coming in all different shades of skin color with all different orientations, religious, ethnic, rich and poor and everything in between. It took a little while to get used to being around mostly white people. Some people, that’s all they know and going to a big city is an foreign experience. For me, it was the other way around. Now, I’m no longer a city woman, not used to crowds of people in the subway or on the streets. But for four days and nights I can adapt to being around the people at this festival.

The main reason I go is for the live music. Music just sounds so good live and outdoors. It’s what makes the festival a festival. Something joyful and all too human. It makes me think people can live in peace if they’d just get a daily dose of good music. And the music at this festival you can get right up to the stage if you want and see the performance with crystal clarity. I usually stay in my seat with my crocheting and a pair of small binoculars.

Yesterday I started working with a singing instruction tape. I got this program many years ago but never studied it but now I need it because my voice is so weak and untrained. I found that you have to be willing to get really LOUD!!! It doesn’t matter if at first you sound like shit, you just belt it out there. The instructors, a man and a woman, started out teaching about proper breathing and then went on to singing vowel sounds. They sound terrible and so do I but that’s not the point. The point is how to sing well and these are the steps you take to get to that point. They also demonstrated dynamics or the ability to get loud to quiet or quiet to loud. I can see that I’m going to need a lot of practice. I recorded myself singing one of my older songs and compared it with the original. Big difference. I started to worry, would I be able to sing that way again if I practiced regularly? So I consulted the I Ching and the response was Deliverance(40) into Progress(35). I didn’t even have to go deeply into the reading to realize that the answer was a firm yes, that is, if I do the work. And I want to keep trying.

I wondered, why did I sound good before? I think it was that I practiced and got lost in what I was doing in a good way. It used to be a form of self-expression and meditation. I couldn’t play my guitar well but I could make up words, find a melody out of a handful of chords and sing. And so I did. I knew it was just me singing to myself, completely private and I could sing whatever and however I felt like it. Most of what I got were not complete songs but maybe half to three quarters of a song at a time, which I recorded but only after I had practiced a lot. Right now, I’m practicing a little bit and recording what I get too soon. I guess, I just don’t want to forget what I’ve come up and I don’t have the stamina yet to sit with it. But stamina is what I have to cultivate over time.

Last night I watched an hour long DVD on Jim Morrison and the Doors which I borrowed from my brother. Jim Morrison was not afraid to get LOUD but he also could get soft. And it was obvious that sometimes he was oblivious to everything but what he was singing. He both acted out and got contemplative. He also saw himself as a poet which I think was part of his charisma. He was very fortunate to have the Doors as his band. The music still gets to me years after I first heard it. The Doors sound like themselves and to me they’ll always be worth listening to. It’s too bad that Jim Morrison cut himself down so young. What he could have done!

Well, that’s all for now. I’ll be back hopefully early next week. Till then stay safe and happy.

MacJournal Test

I just downloaded a new program called the MacJournal. I got the idea to do it from Hilary who is a firm believer in organizing her I Ching readings. The program allows me to create as many journals as I want with a searchable database. So far I have a regular journal, an I Ching journal, a song writing journal and a Yin And Yang journal. Supposedly I can write in my Yin and Yang journal and then post it in my blog and this is what I’m going to be testing out tonight. This will take a lot of pressure off writing because I won’t have to be online to do it, so I can touch base with it more easily throughout the day. Also I’ll have a copy of it for myself instead of having to print out from the web pages.

This program also can create an audio file, or at least I hope it can. It’s like having my very own podcast so I can speak or read poetry or play a song or whatever and pass it on to you. For the last half hour I’ve been trying to come up with something to record. I have some old songs, a poem or I could read from a book or play a song by a favorite artist or just rap. There are a lot of possibilities. But for now I’m just going to test it out to see if I can do it. I just recorded the Beatles doing Taxman. It’s one of my favorite songs. I can still add images I’ve found on the web here but when I try to add my photos they are way too big. I’m definitely doing something wrong but I’m not sure what yet. It would be great if I could post pictures too along with the audio. I’m so computer illiterate but maybe I’ll figure it out.

A Few Steps Closer

It's been two weeks since I asked the I Ching about returning to music. Everyday I've been touching base with my studio (I'm going to call it a studio from now on even though it's just a back room with some basic equipment) to listen to old songs and work on new ones. These last few days I've been slowly getting organized. The voices gave me the idea to bring my boom box into the studio and practice singing with it. I should have thought of this a long time ago. I listened to The Beatles, Buffalo Springfield and Joni Mitchell and then sang with certain songs. I wear my headset. The microphone picks up the music while amplifying my voice while I sing. My singing is okay to poor which is not surprising since I haven't sung regularly for about seven years, not since just after I got sick with schizophrenia. I also have forgotten a lot of the words to my favorite songs so the singing is very choppy. I learned online that it can take a person up to four months to be able to sing if he or she is just beginning. The good news is that with daily practice there will be improvement and I know from past experience that practice (obviously) is the key to a decent singing voice. The vocal muscles need to be trained and your breathing needs to be regulated to produce the best sound.

It's hard for me to return because I'm back to being a near absolute beginner and this is not just due to not keeping up with it. I also haven't had teachers and no musical friends to show me how to use my equipment, how to play my instrument or how to sing. Once again, my own fault. I guess I got used to shutting people out and going into the music instead in a half assed way. But even though I wasn't clear about what I was doing, I still got to hit the right notes and the right rhythms and even the right words sometimes. I can hear when I listen to old tapes that I can sing, that somehow I got myself to do it.

Well, now, I am in a different place. I don't have the intuition to wing it. I have to get down to learning the A,B,C's of songwriting/singing/playing. So I went online and googled songwriting. Got some information on the basics of how to write a song and of how to sing and found a songwriters forum to join. That's the beauty of the internet -- it's a library and a meeting place. And that's the beauty of people, always sharing great ideas but now it's within the reach of your fingertips.

(A couple of days later...)

Yesterday I went out with my brother. I brought my acoustic guitar to a nearby music store because the body is detaching from the neck and I can't play it because I can't tune it. I've been using my electric guitar instead but I miss the acoustic. As my brother said yesterday acoustic and electric guitars are "two different animals". The acoustic is actually harder to play than the electric when you're just starting out. You get sore fingers, at least during the first couple of weeks while your fingers develop callouses. But the acoustic is what I first started out with. Also it's portable, doesn't need an amplifier or an 8 track in order to hear it. Making up songs is sometimes spur of the moment and it's good to have an instrument ready and handy. The men at the store weren't sure if they could fix it or not so they took the guitar and wrote down my name and number and said they'd call to let me know. I hope they can fix it. If not, there are a few places I could try an hour away.

I didn't get to do much work yesterday and today I woke up late but I still got into the studio and worked on a song. I find I need to take regular breaks and from what I've read online so far that's recommended. You need to let intuition work in making a song. One of the suggestions I read was to start making up or finding (in books, magazines, wherever) titles. I've done this off and on for years, even after I stopped playing. I should go through my journals and find them and see if they strike a chord in me. Go on a title hunt.

I've got almost a page of titles so far and I look over them a couple of times a day. It does help to keep me engaged. One of my titles is Lost Queen. I found it in a magazine. And I started wondering what made the queen lost and did she have a king and then I started thinking of Queen Elizabeth I, the "Virgin" Queen. Over the years I've picked up some information about Queen Elizabeth and been drawn to her as one of the few female authority figures in history. But in order for her to be as powerful as she was, she never married. Did that make her lost emotionally in some ways?

I started writing a song about paranoia but got stuck pretty quickly. It's an important subject for me, something I've intimately experienced but I can't remember yet the feeling and it's the feeling I want to convey. When did it start? What did it feel like? I think everyone can identify the feeling of paranoia at some point in their lives. We all worry that our privacy is not intact, that someone has caught us unawares. Or worse that someone wants to hurt us. Stephen Stills: "Paranoia strikes deep/ Into your heart it will creep/ It starts when you're always afraid/ Step out of line, the man take you away." I think I first became schizophrenic when I became paranoid. That was a marker and the beginning point of a hard road. Anyone who hears voices has probably experienced paranoia. In the beginning the voices represent the paranoia. You feel constantly watched with every thought noted down somewhere. Try to imagine that, absolutely no privacy in your life, in your mind. That alone is what accounts for much of the initial illness. Only a superhuman person would be able to withstand that kind of scrutiny. But on top of the scrutiny is the feeling that the scrutiny is often not benevolent but malevolent. A perpetual negative edge.

I've been listening to Sirius satellite radio taking up another of the online suggestions to start listening to a lot of music. I'm trying to figure out the structure of some of the songs I hear. Really much of my listening has been pretty blind. I miss the days when I would listen to a side of a record in my bedroom as a teenager. I would listen with great attention and after I learned the words I would sing with the record. It was like a deep meditation, communing with what I was hearing. I need to do that now. I have to work through the emotional scar tissue that's built up over the years and get back to my heart.

So far no delusional thoughts. I feel like my inexperience is grounding me to reality and I feel grateful.

Just Keep Going

I made myself go to an Al-Anon meeting after several weeks away from it. The meeting starts about two hours after I do my volunteer work at the library and for two Mondays I've been either too tired or in a bad mood but yesterday I was well enough to go. I felt quiet and didn't offer to chair the meeting or read the daily meditations but towards the end of the meeting we read this:

"Our lives will remain unmanageable as long as we pretend that only half of the truth is real. That's why sharing is such an important Al-Anon tool. When we share with other members about what is really going on, we cut through our denial and anchor ourselves in reality. While it may be difficult to face certain facts, when we allow ourselves to confront them, we cease to give our own denial the power to devastate us at every turn." (Courage To Change, July 9th)

Other people at the meeting had been sharing about the struggles in their lives, not necessarily alcohol related, and I wished I could do the same. But a lot of the way I am and live has to do with my mental illness and I wasn't sure if this meeting was the appropriate place to talk about it. Then I thought, if not here and now then where and when? So I told the group that I had trouble sharing but that I wanted to. I talked about my schizophrenia, about how in the earlier years at the meetings I had been actively psychotic and had taken on a motivational role but that I no longer felt that way, though I felt much less psychotic. I realized then that I missed that part of me that could sometimes inspire people (one woman said that something I had said during that time stayed with her every day...) and wish I had some of the more manic ease of my early psychosis. But, really, it wasn't ease, it was the voices goading me on. My mind was frantic and I needed those meetings to slow me down. They slowed me down by having me concentrate on other people instead of my hyperactive thoughts and feelings. It was the voices who pushed me to speak out in the group. I didn't speak out about my schizophrenia but about how to fight codependency through taking good care of oneself, keeping the focus on oneself instead of the alcoholic or whoever was causing distress in one's life. This is what Al-Anon had taught me and what I tried to mirror back to the group.

Now is different. I have no alcoholic boyfriend. I have no schizophrenic alter ego. I am not codependent on anyone or anything mainly because I am less ill but also, of course, because I live alone and have no friends. So I don't have a lot to say about the people in my life because there are so few. My brother does drink too much but I have no desire to butt into his life when he's told me so far he has no physical or emotional problems with it. If that changes, so will my response. But even though all I really have in my life is myself and my cats I am still stuck and I could sense this at the meeting. One person asked me if having trouble sharing about my life is because I don't think my life is important enough to discuss, or, in other words, due to low self-esteem. And this may be true. I can write about my life in this blog, find some meaning in it or in books and ideas I encounter, but I can't seem to share my life's struggles with people face to face. I feel self-conscious and almost ashamed in one way and just too detached in another way.

On my way to the meeting I chose an audio recording to listen to of a Buddhist nun named Pema Chodron. I have a lot of her recordings. The first one I got was called Awakening Compassion: Meditation Practice for Difficult Times. I remember clearly when I got it because after I bought it I took it with me on a trip to St. Thomas with my family. I had just had my third breakdown and was still very shaky and quite miserable and I thought this woman Pema Chodron might comfort me if not inspire me. After that I began collecting some her talks. The recording I started listening to yesterday is called True Happiness: Cultivating a Life of Unconditional Joy and the Power to Benefit Others. I listened to the first two cds recorded at a winter retreat in Gampo Abbey monastery in Nova Scotia. Here are three quotes she started out with:

"Knowing life is short, enjoy it day after day, moment after moment." Suzuki Roshi

"Beings long to free themselves from misery, but misery itself we follow and pursue. We long for joy, but in our ignorance destroy it as we would an enemy." Shanti Dayva (? )

"Let everything happen to you, beauty and terror. Just keep going. No feeling is final." Rilke

Ms. Chodron said we all want to be happy but every day there is discomfort as well as comfort. We get in our own way. She went on to say that the greatest obstacle to happiness is self-denigration which is why it is so very important to cultivate loving-kindness first towards oneself. Do I put myself down? Yes, I do but almost unconsciously. I think I'm too fat, my house is a mess, I'm not good enough for friends or a lover, I'm lazy, etc... These thoughts become little worries that dog me throughout the day, worries that I push aside and try to ignore. So I asked myself almost for the first time--am I loving myself? am I taking care of myself? Sort of. Better than when I was sicker but not so great. Ms. Chodron said something that made an impression on me. She said we are drawn to things that harm us and, in one way or another, we are all addicts. I have thought this before and it is certainly true for me. I would like to quite smoking but each day I continue to smoke. I know it is unhealthy and annoying and yet I do it. To acknowledge it as an addiction is not enough. I have to take the steps needed to stop. How do I love myself enough to do the right thing? I'm not sure yet. I pray for others, but perhaps I should pray for myself too. Gratitude I feel and that is good but I also have to be able to pinpoint my habits and weaknesses and look more closely at them. Become aware of what it is I actually do.

Pema Chodron calls this staying present and in touch with the unpleasant as well as the pleasant, not always buffering everything. Sitting with what makes you uncomfortable. People who struggle with all kinds of cravings have to sit with them before they can let them go. It's hard to do. I need to try and not keep running from myself.

Another Return To Music

I have a strange relationship with music. I listen to very little of it but creatively I feel closest to it. Writing and singing my own songs has been one of the highlights of my life, not a brilliant highlight but a muted one. There none the less. Last Fall I tried to return to songwriting after a long absence and found I couldn't sing and my words were poor, my guitar playing simply bad. I also tried to switch over from my 8 track cassette recorder to the computer to no avail. It was frustrating and gradually I stopped trying. Perhaps I wanted too much too soon without having put the effort into it or perhaps it was just the wrong time. I think it was a combination of both. Months ago I had asked the I Ching what work I was best suited for and I got 34, Power of the Great. This surprised me because I'm someone who has wielded very little power and I have never sought to be powerful. The only times when I have felt a sense of power is when I used to dance by myself or sing my songs by myself. It was almost a spiritual experience at times and other times passionate but always when I was alone. Around other people I became inhibited. The only person I can recall ever singing with was Brendan but not a lot. When he wasn't using the 8 track and playing his music and other people's music, I would go into the music room and work on my own. I could sing about the abuse I was going through and it gave me strength and, for the most part, Brendan didn't listen. Then one of the cats peed on the 8 track and ruined it which is why soon after I left Brendan I bought a new one with some money I had saved up. I still have about twenty tapes of the music I made that year. Anyway recently I began studying in depth hexagram 34 with Hilary's help and found myself thinking about music again. I asked the I Ching--What if I returned to music? I got a positive response and so I set up in my back room and began trying to write songs again. That's part of what I've been doing this week. I'm not sure why but my voice is stronger than it was and this really helps me to push forward. I've worked on an older song and started a new one. But I'm being cautious. The reason is because, for me, music and delusions mix well together. I start thinking I'm better than I really am which is absurd since I've barely even started working on it. I have a long way to go before I'll be able to produce good work. But it's a beginning (again) and I'm going to try to go with it. I have a music collection but at the moment it's all disorganized and I don't listen to it. When I was most psychotic I listened to a lot of music, especially while driving.  I was so insane and I really should not have been driving at all but I got a strange joy out of driving to music in the countryside. But that was in the beginning of the psychosis before things got ugly and really intense. It was during this time that I made up a bunch of songs. The voices told me to take guitar lessons and so I did for a few weeks but when I tried to play they would attack me and I stopped. Stopped writing songs too. It was too painful. I associated music with freedom. I associated singer-songwriters I liked with deep and personal communication with others. But I also associated music that moved me with passion and romance and this is where I fell into fantasy and from fantasy into delusion. I'm hopeful that I will not fall into a repeat performance and can instead concentrate on music in a healthy way. Only time will tell. I think I'm willing to take a chance on it. I want to wake up and reconnect to my heart and thoughts and writing/singing can help me to do this. Writing songs is like making a personal, musical journal. It marks a time and place and it colors it with a certain specific attitude and mood. The best songs seem to have some clear visual images in them. I've been reviewing some songs from 1995-98. It's an odd sensation. Seems so long ago and yet very present. The magic of recording devices. I like a lot of the songs but they are a strange bunch, very simplistic, only a few chords in basic rhythm patterns. Occasionally I harmonize, other times I just double up the vocals. This is very cool but to a purist, it's cheating. I'm not good enough to be a purist and so I go for some fooling around. My voice is amplified but cushioned by the effect I choose and it allows me to really let go and sing. Once I can get past my own inhibition, even if the words and melody are not strong yet, I can start to sort of surrender to the process. If I find a line that I can actually sing, I repeat it over and over to learn it and then I modify it, the words or the rhythm or the melody but usually I stick with what seems to work until it sinks into me and then I change it, hopefully strengthen it. (Next day...) Today I've felt uncomfortable but I've worked in my music room several times today even so. The I Ching says I need "patience, stability and helpers." I think the practice of patience will lead to stability but as to helpers, I'm not sure where to go for that. My first thought is to take guitar lessons but I'm not feeling ready to reach out yet. My self-isolation is a definite drawback. My brother knows several people in town who are into making music and I know I should be around them, that they could give me feedback and help me but, once again, I feel inadequate trying to make friends. What I'd really like to do is have a cd made of my better work and hand it out as a form of introduction but I don't have the equipment for it and can't afford it right now. Though I should seriously consider investing a little money in this to get up to date and, really, to start to break my isolation. The really frustrating thing is I should be able to work from my computer but don't know how. There's a program called GarageBand and it's like having a little studio. Using an audio interface you can plug your guitar and mic into the computer and record on it and then burn a disc. After Christmas I got the audio interface thinking that that is what I would do but when I plugged my equipment into it I got no signal and therefore couldn't work with it. What I need is someone to explain the system and set me up. A helper. I might have to wait until September for that when the students get back into town. There's got to be someone I could pay a bit to help me out. "To rule by serving is the secret of success" wrote Richard Wilhelm who translated the I Ching. Success is connecting with other people and helping them. I hope that some of my songs reach that level someday. I just have to break free of this isolation. I think I stigmatize myself. I hold myself back, don't take chances making friends and worry. Why do I do this? Years of mental illness. In some ways I feel like I have a little bit of talent, something to offer to people and in other ways I just don't feel good enough. I'm still afraid of life, of people, of responsibility, but I'm not going to give up. I keep telling myself that reaching out to others is a very important part of recovery but I have trouble following my own advice.

In The Midst Of Some Shadows

Lately I've been aware of my illness, well, I'm always aware of it on some level. Because of the voices I know I'm not alone and that maybe noone ever is really alone. In some ways that's good and in other ways that's bad. It's good to feel as if I'm heard, that there's some kind of witness of my life (and all our lives) but bad in that I'm missing that fresh sense of solitude, that sense of sacrosanct privacy. And so I've stopped being playful, stopped dreaming, stopped fantasizing. There's still the residue of an abusive presence coating my life. I'm an older person now and a more cautious person. I live one day at a time so I don't fall into the past or get lost dreaming about the future. But memories and reviewing the past is a very important part of growing up. I miss having no vivid memories, the psychosis seemed to have swallowed them or, at least, buried them deep within me. The voices and a higher power may witness my life but I'm prevented from witnessing my own life. Not totally of course, I can still place things in time but in some ways it's as if I'm sleepwalking while awake. Still afraid.

When some of the voices tell me they love me, I tell them I love them too and it helps, up to a point. But I know my heart is still numb and that what love I feel is incomplete, even for myself and my family. I pray for myself. I pray for my family. I pray for friends and strangers. I pray for the beings who leave their voices in my mind. I think prayer has become necessary to my sense of well-being but I get lost and pray less and have to remind myself to return again. And I do still vaguely remember how the voices tortured me into praying for every single person I could think of as a kind of punishment, taking the joy out of the process yet making it a habit even so. The abuse of power which trains people through fear can create deeply ingrained habits. They did something bad yet still created a good practice for me to follow. Perhaps I'm just confused because they are such a mixture of good and bad forces.

Every now and then the voices still call themselves evil, just as they used to call me evil. I've experienced evil in a relationship and with them but I still don't accept it. I don't believe in it, at least not as something that's incapable of changing. To me, the idea of hell is evil because some people treat it as if it were an unchangeable fact. I may be an idealist but I still believe that hateful people and beings can be changed for the better through other people/being's essential goodness. I also believe that all people and these beings are essentially good, are born innocent. Evil, to me, is a learned phenomena that can be unlearned. Love can conquer hate. And when I say that I don't really mean romantic love but compassionate love. After a while with Brendan I stopped feeling much romantic love but continued to feel compassionate love despite my fear and distaste for his hateful attitudes. Romantic love can come and go but compassion has a broader base. You can feel compassion for anyone, family, lover, friends or strangers or even enemies. And the more you can feel compassion the safer your good soul becomes from negative influences. There's balance and harmony in the practice of compassion.

And that's why I need to put more focus on praying. When I pray, I regain some of the balance and harmony that inevitably starts to slip away when I'm not careful. Prayer is the practice of compassion for oneself and others. Is it enough on its own? Probably not. Good structure and actions are necessary too. I know I am not well because I jump from one thing to another. I mean well but I can't seem to focus on one project for very long. And I'm only vaguely aware of it at the time. I'm not sure if I can change this pattern right now. It's a deeply ingrained pattern stemming from youth. Perhaps I can pray on it and ask for guidance. I haven't been asking for guidance so much as just being grateful for my life and everyone else's lives. But guidance is what I need. I shall also consult the I Ching. Maybe it can give me some perspective on how to change my patterns.

I know that living in the shadow of my illness is just my particular burden to bear for now and that we all, at some point in our lives, bear a burden. I may get lost but I find my way again via various detours. And I do feel grateful for my life, perhaps that's why I find my way again. I'm just very glad that I have some motivation to do things (write, paint, crochet, etc...), more than I did this past winter. I still say motivation is mental/ emotional happiness as long as you hurt noone. So I hold onto what I can do and work on myself in the meantime.

Doctor's Visit & The I Ching

I went to my general doctor today. My blood pressure is good, the mammogram and chest x-ray were fine, I don't have diabetes. Almost all the tests came out in normal range except the cholesterol. My good cholesterol is too low and my bad cholesterol is too high. The doctor said I should take 500 mg of Vitamin B3 (niacin) which should help to bring my good cholesterol up and he said I should start exercising to get the good cholesterol up and the bad cholesterol down. And, of course, I should not drink whole milk or eat a lot of cheese, etc... which I don't do anyway. I'm very pleased with the results, especially the fact that I don't have diabetes which my mother and brother both have. From now on I'm going to pay closer attention to my health. I'm 45 and it's time I did the responsible thing. I mentioned to the doctor that sometime in the next 12 months I wanted to try to seriously quit smoking. He said that if I wanted him to give me a prescription to help me out he could do that anytime. I think I'll take him up on that offer and also see if I can find any support groups for quitting around here. The last time I tried to seriously quit was early on in my psychosis, that was seven years ago or so.

(Three days later...)

I know. I haven't been writing. Sorry, not sure why. Maybe it's because I've been preoccupied with consulting and studying the I Ching. I've returned to my I Ching teacher for a few more lessons. Yesterday she replied to an assignment I did on interpreting a single hexagram. Normally when you consult the I Ching you receive a hexagram, six lines either unbroken--yang or broken--yin, with moving lines, that is lines that are changing from yang to yin or yin to yang (visually that means changing from an unbroken line into a broken line or visa-versa). So you first read the hexagram as is and then reconstruct a second hexagram out of the moving lines. Confusing? It's a lot easier to show than to describe but I don't have a program for showing hexagrams. Anyway, normally you get two hexagrams but at fairly regular intervals you will get a single hexagram with no moving lines. Bear with me while I try to explain...

I Ching means Book (Ching) of Changes (I). It's sort of like the Chinese Bible for philosophy and divination. The origins of it date back to at least three thousand years ago, a time when the practical and the spiritual were combined. Most ancient Chinese believed in spirits that, through divination, would guide people on earth. They were called the ancestors. Great respect and reverence were given to the ancestors.

(Another day later...)

For me the I Ching is definitely part of the higher power but I still have trouble placing it. It is not God but it is related to God. It is a mediator between earth and heaven. I believe in the reality behind the voices too but the I Ching is not the voices either. It is something unique.

The premise behind the I Ching is that the one thing that is constant is change and that change alternates between to basic energies, the yang energy (creative, light, direct) and the yin energy (receptive, dark, subtle). It's the different between the strong sunlight on an open field and the shade cast by a large oak tree. Both are important but while there's still energy running through them, it is of a different quality. So there's this interaction between all life, the push and pull of things. The basic unit of all matter is the atom. The smallest and lightest atom is the hydrogen atom which consist of one proton with a positive charge in the nucleus and one electron with a negative charge that orbits around it. Two elements (though there are also neutrons in other atoms) with a play between positive and negative energies. And this is everywhere, in everything.

One of the themes of the I Ching is the flux of nature, the waxing and waning of the moon, the change of seasons from Spring to Winter and back to Spring. Included in this flux and in each of the 64 hexagrams are the various combinations of eight natural phenomena: Heaven, earth, water, fire, thunder, mountain, wind and lake. This is the basic symbolic language of the I Ching: the forces of yin and yang and how they act on the world around us and in us.

I just asked the I Ching what is the best way to describe the I Ching to others and I got the hexagram PEACE with two moving lines that changed it into THE ARMY. For the sake of clarity I will just focus on the first hexagram. Here is Richard Wilhelm's interpretation of the hexagram: "This hexagram denotes a time in nature when heaven seems to be on earth. Heaven has placed itself beneath the earth, and so their powers unite in deep harmony. Then peace and blessing descend upon all living things. In the world of man it is a time of social harmony; those in high places show favor to the lowly, and the lowly and inferior in their turn are well disposed toward the highly placed. There is an end to all feuds. Inside, at the center, is the light principle; the dark principle is outside. Thuus the light has a powerful influence, while the dark is submissive. In this way each receives its due. When the good elements of society occupy a central position and are in control, the evil elements come under their influence and change for the better. When the spirit of heaven rules in man, his animal nature also comes under its influence and takes its appropriate place." (48-49)

From the I Ching's own perspective it sees itself as Peace and heaven on earth. The hexagram is composed of two trigrams three lines each. The bottom trigram represents heaven with three yang (unbroken) lines and the upper trigram represents earth with three yin (broken) lines. The movement of heaven is up and the movement of earth is down hence they meet each other and "unite in deep harmony". Attaining this harmony is the goal of the guidance of the I Ching and thus PEACE is a good symbol of the book.

I still feel somewhat disoriented when I go into a personal reading. There's a lot to learn and a lot to interpret and I am a beginner but I think I will stick with this and gradually create a stronger relationship with the I Ching. Just returning to Hilary for guidance has already cleared some things up for me. I feel respect for those who have years of study behind them.

Okay, that's all for now. I hope you all have been taking good care of yourselves.

My Father

6/21/07

Sorry I haven't picked up the pace. I've been preoccupied with two things: the I Ching and the fact that my father fainted on Tuesday and is in the hospital. He took a stress test today and they found something. Tomorrow morning they are going to put a catheter into his groin and up into his heart to see if there is some kind of blockage. It might be serious but it might not be serious. We won't know until tomorrow. Tuesday I asked the I Ching "What can you tell me about my father's fainting spell?" I got the hexagram 19 - Approach - with a moving line on line 6, changing into hexagram 41 - Decrease. Hilary has taught me that when looking to interpret an answer first try putting the names of the two hexagrams together. In this case that would be Approach Decrease. Which makes sense in that my father is almost 81 years old and has to come to terms with gradual (hopefully) decline in health. But the hexagram Approach is a very positive hexagram according to a Chinese translator Alfred Huang. At least for a while. The text reads: "Approaching. Sublimely prosperous and smooth. Favorable to be steadfast and upright. Ends in the eighth month; Misfortune comes." The text for the moving line reads: "Sincerely approaching. Good fortune. No fault."

6/22/07

No news yet about my father's diagnostic test. I will call him in a few hours.

After my father called me from the hospital on Tuesday, I felt a bit nervous and numb. For the rest of the day and the next day I just sat with it. I prayed. The day before he fainted I had sent him an email asking him to tell me about his nervous breakdown about forty five years ago. When he called me on the phone from the hospital he began tersely to answer my request. That took only a few minutes: He had been in a psychiatric hospital for two months, took no drugs and then was in therapy for two years. He said his illness had nothing to do with mine. He said his illness had less to do with paranoia than with some kind of panic reaction. I wanted to talk to him more about it but realized, once again, that he really didn't want to go into it and him being in the hospital stopped me from pressing it. Later I thought, what if my question about his breakdown triggered him to faint? Could the topic be that powerful to him?

My father has always been kind and gentle with me but emotionally distant. He is perfectly willing to analyze a worry but not to go into the more private and personal problems of his life. Over the years my mother, brother and I have come to assume that the reason my father is often unavailable emotionally is because his father was an alcoholic, sometimes an abusive alcoholic. Again, my father never has discussed the abusive aspect of his father's behavior towards his mother with me even though I became involved with an abusive alcoholic. On the other hand, it was my father who was there for me emotionally when I was going in and out of my relationship with Brendan. My mother was just angry at Brendan (though she never really got to know him) and also at me. She said I was a "sucker". And to a certain extent she was right, but my father didn't spend time like my mother judging Brendan and me, instead he listened and offered support. And when I became acutely psychotic, he was there for me from Florida the very next day and stayed with me for a month. It's obvious to me that my father has a good heart and a smart mind which is why it is frustrating that I can't talk to him about my illness or his or his childhood with an alcoholic parent. He can tell me facts about it but not so much the emotional content of it. When he has talked about his father it's been with great sadness but always a brief touching on it and no delving into it.

I've been told that, unlike my brother, I was an affectionate (if whiney) child. I've seen pictures of me crawling on my father and giving him hugs and kisses but I don't remember it. I do remember that when I was around four or five my father would tickle me but way too hard. I never told him because I didn't want to hurt his feelings I guess. When I was a little older we would go bike riding in the park and sometimes go to movies together. He worked a lot and so I didn't see him as much as I saw my mother. And so I bonded with my mother more than my father.

There were no paternal (or maternal) rules in our home and no chores. My father was not the stern patriarch of some families. While I was growing up it was my brother who was the focal point of the family. He had emotional problems and problems in school. From a very young age he started trying to compete with his brainy parents. He needed a more traditional father to lay down some rules for him and to encourage him in sports. But my father was not athletic. He was a lawyer who faithfully read his New York Times every morning over juice and an english muffin or cereal. He would talk history or politics but not sports. Like me, my brother spent more time with our mother. There were tensions there too but they did talk to each other about their feelings. Talking about feelings with my father was just not done and so my brother and I went to our mother. For a while there it was the three of us who bonded and my father who kept to himself. But when my mother and brother would try to gang up on my father I invariably took my father's side. I guess I instinctively knew that my father was wounded in a way that none of us had been.

Until now. Now I've experienced some of the hidden things that my father has experienced: living with an alcoholic and mental illnes. I thought maybe we could bond over this and who knows, maybe we still can but for now, I'm not going to push it on him and if it turns out he can't, I'll still love and respect him.

(A few hours later...)

I tried calling my father's hospital room at three but a nurse answered and said he had gone to another hospital. I tried calling my parent's cell phone, no answer so I left a message. Then I worried a bit. Why did he go to another hospital? Was there a problem? Why hadn't my mother called me? I felt tired and lay down but I had said I would bring a tape of a soccer game over to my brother who is a soccer junky. Also I had to go to the pharmacy which would close for the week-end in the next hour and a half and I was hungry and thought my brother and I could go out to lunch. So I called my brother. No answer, then he called back 20 minutes later. So we went out to lunch. When I got home still no message. So I started working on a portrait of my father and mother which kept me occupied till the phone rang. It was my father saying he was home. The diagnostic test did did show two blood clots in more minor veins but this could be treated through drugs and there was no need for any surgery and so he was let go and went home with my mother. He called me soon after they returned.

It is a great relief to know that he doesn't require surgery. He has a slow acting leukemia which is in remission but because of his age and condition surgery would not be a good option for him. He will go see his doctor on Monday and have his medications adjusted. He sounded in good spirits and glad to be home.

The Last Few Days

After I cleaned the back bedroom last week I've been sleeping in my bed. This small change signals more recovery for me. For years I've been sleeping on the living room couch mainly because of the psychosis. I think the behavior stemmed from my paranoia and a general lack of self care. I also used to listen to meditative music to help me to get to sleep and my stereo was in my living room...and the tv...and the kitchen nearby. I guess that's why they call it the living room. Another change: I'm also trying not to sleep in my clothes but to put on sleeping clothes before bed. Sleeping in my clothes also started with paranoia. I wanted to be prepared in case I had to leave the house quickly. But I haven't been paranoid in over four years and yet I continued to sleep in my clothes and not change them the next day if I didn't have to go out. Luckily I have very little body odor and so usually I just wouldn't notice it. So many things I stopped noticing and it's only just now that I'm starting to return to a healthy pattern. May it continue.

Thursday I finished Azar Nafisi's READING LOLITA IN TEHRAN. What a good book. I think I'm going to purchase it and read it again. It really gave me a feel for what it was like to live in Iran post revolution as an intellectual woman. Ms. Nafisi is a good writer passionate about Western literature but she lived in a repressive anti-Western culture for eighteen years. That's what makes this book interesting. She survived pretty much intact, neither the repressive regime nor the eight years war with Iraq stopped her, though many were not so fortunate. Too many were tortured, imprisoned, even killed because their beliefs didn't fit with the "Islamic Republic". One of Ms. Nafisi's best students had been in prison for two years for protesting against the regime. The book gives glimpses into Ms. Nafisi and her "girls" (her best students) showing several different perspectives. Ms. Nafisi was very fortunate indeed and ultimately left Iran with her husband and two children to live in Washington, D.C. Two years after she left Iran for good she began to work on this book and about three years later it was finished, but the book itself moves swiftly and gracefully, covers her eighteen years without dragging it out. Her chapters are short and plentiful. I found this made the book easier and more enjoyable to read. As memoirs go, this is a good one. I hope she writes another about living in the U.S. someday.

Friday I got a cell phone. Now I truly am part of the 21st Century. The phone itself was very cheap because of a special deal for first time buyers. The monthly fee is about what I expected it to be, a bit too expensive but doable. I don't know how families afford getting each child a phone. The customers ahead of me were a mother and daughter (and also a very young daughter--too young to have a cell phone). The mother was buying a new phone and phone line for her teenage daughter. She said to her daughter, "You know you are a very lucky girl" and "Your father really is a softie." My phone cost about $21 and the phone they chose cost about $145. I'm satisfied with with my (cameraless) cell phone and am in the process of learning how to use it. Well, making and receiving a call is fairly simple, it's the computer program that needs to be memorized. If I want to pay extra I can text messages but I've never done it before and really don't have enough of a social life to make it an attractive activity. But I am curious about it. Still I'm not too crazy about the new computer language, "I will c u later" and such though I understand it's out of necessity. But really, this phone is for my own peace of mind in case of an emergency with the car. It's still too new. I've only made one call so far. But who knows, maybe this year I'll make some friends and get over my anxiety with using the phone. Maybe I'll be like so many other people apparently talking to themselves in their cars or along the street or in restaurants.

Saturday I studied the I Ching (Yee Jing often spelled Yijing). As you've probably noticed I haven't been writing about the I Ching for months now. That's because I stopped consulting it and stopped working with my online I Ching teacher Hilary. But for several weeks now I've been considering returning to the oracle for guidance. Hilary was teaching me various divination practices and I got overloaded. There's so much to learn and it can be quite time consuming. I think I just needed a break from it. I have been having trouble formulating questions to ask it. I second guess myself and feel as if my questions aren't good enough. Or I feel as if I already know the answers. Or I feel as if I'm just plain lazy. Whatever the reason (perhaps winter depression) I now feel ready to return to the I Ching and to Hilary. I went to Hilary's online I Ching community (which as it turns out I haven't visited for over three months) and began a thread about having trouble asking the I Ching questions. I've gotten some excellent replies that have set me thinking. I also think I have to change my approach to working with Hilary. The course I signed up for with her is a 12 month course. She has about nine suggested lessons to work with to begin with. I got up to lesson 7 but I think what I really need to do is have a general discussion with her, get to know her and let her get to know me. Try to deepen my understanding of the Yi through her insights and my own. I also need to participate in her online forum. It's just that all this is new to me, this community around the I Ching. For me it's always been a solitary thing and I had no idea how deeply people are involved in it, some almost mathematical in their approach, others very intuitive and emotional but all very educated and serious. I feel like an awkward novice because, well, that's what I am.

I've been drawing and painting each day, small watercolors. I was inspired by an online friend (thanks J.P.!) who is getting into art. I sent her some art books (one of them a great how to book I studied when I was a young woman) and a couple of small paintings I did last Fall, both of little girls. I've been working on portraits and figure studies from two famous photographers: Jock Sturges and Sally Mann. Both focus on children and teen-agers with a few adults sprinkled into the bunch. Many are nude studies and there has been some controversy over whether their photographs should be considered pornographic which I think is absurd. From my perspective they are beautiful psychological studies. I find them compelling which is why I started painting them. I actually did one moderately large oil painting of one of Jock Sturges photographs but mine is modified and in color (all Sturges' and Mann's photos are black and white) my first year back at school which is still one of my favorites. My watercolors are also obviously in color and this is hard because I have no color to reference from the photographs and so I've been guessing and doing it intuitively. Not really a good way to learn natural color, better to have a color photograph or a model. I'll look around for some color photographs. I can also work from dvds on my computer by freeze framing a shot from a film or video, well, in theory I can because I've never done it before. I can certainly draw from the computer and that would just be some great practice for proportions of the figure or portrait and composition study. I've also been drawing and painting from a book on cats (full color photographs). One of my best watercolors so far is of a kitten. I wish I could post some of my photographs and paintings on this blog but I haven't been able to upload images for many months now. I'm thinking about starting another blog just for images if that's possible.

Three years after my initial breakdown I took a month long watercolor class to prepare me for going back to art school. That was a great class. It's why I'm studying watercolor now (though when I went back to school I painted primarily in acrylic on medium to large stretched canvas'). Some say that watercolor is the hardest painting medium to master but it is also the most practical. You don't need alot of space because paintings are usually small compared to oil and acrylic painting. All you need is a pencil, paint, water, brushes, paper towels, watercolor paper, a drawing board or table and some light. The back bedroom that I cleaned and now sleep in is where I set up a little studio, mainly a drawing table, a large cork board, a table to hold the paints, brushes, paper towel and brushes and and bookcase with books and supplies. The room has excellent daylight coming through two windows. The walls of the room are painted white and so the room has open (though it's not large) and airy feel to it. I draw and then paint a small study soon after I get up in the morning and return to study my work several times a day. My work is uneven, some studies stronger than others but the main thing I want to do is persevere with it. Just do it each day. I'd like to give some of my work away as presents to my family. This is making me more goal oriented which is challenging me to continue generating ideas about what others might enjoy looking at. The bottom line is being creative is essential to my happiness. Lately, since the depression has lifted, I have more motivation and this makes me happy.

Today I worked in the library. It was terribly dull work I'm afraid, folding hundreds of newsletters to be mailed out locally and while I was doing it I felt physically uncomfortable. I yearned for my cd walkman so I could study or listen to music while I worked but I didn't sqirm or complain, I just did the work. I listened to the director, the clerk and visitors talking to each other about house repairs and pesky chipmunks and the exceptionally dry weather we're having. I listened to a young man at their only public computer talk and joke about what was selling on ebay and whether or not he should bid. So mostly I listened and didn't talk, though I did smile a lot. My favorite person so far is the director. She's modest, funny, unpretentious, hardworking and honest. There's just something about her that is loveable. She seems like somebody's mom and grandmother. But she's also very proper. After I left the library, I felt good. The work itself had been unpleasant because monotonous but I knew I was doing something useful, I was contributing and being social (if only in a limited way). It was a new sensation...working, being useful to a part of my community, having actual contact with members of the community instead of thinking of them in the abstract. I've lived here for 18 years and I'm only now just trying to get to know others. I've been a semi-invisible member of the human race. Shame has held me back from joining with others but I'm learning that mental illness should not be something I'm ashamed of. I'm hoping that I will eventually tell the director of my schizophrenia. Each time I've told someone it's taken pressure off me and I think it makes me easier to understand. I'm not bad, I'm not a failure. I have a handicap but I'm still a worthwhile person. I think the only way to end the stigma attached to mental illness is to end the isolation of those who live with it. People with mental illness should show their colors instead of hiding them away. We all have talents and strengths. Let's show people that we can be productive members of society who have meaningful lives. There's no room for shame in the recovery process, no room for shaming stigma.

Tonight I went to my first Al-Anon meeting in three weeks. There were seven of us and I chaired the meeting. Part of today's reading had to do with the 4th Step: "Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves." I have broached this step several times but never actually have taken it. It's a hard step but a very important step, one that is key to seven of the steps which all have to do with self-understanding and learning to accept responsibility. I want to take this step now. I think I'm ready to take an honest look at my weaknesses and strengths. I won't truly recover until I do. And both aspects are very important. Understanding what my weaknesses are is crucial to overcoming them and my other strengths are crucial to doing the same and building a meaningful life. I have a 4th Step workbook filled with questions that I'll have to answer and I'm very glad I have it. It will help give structure to the process of self understanding, a sort of gentle guide as to what I should reflect upon.

Well, it's past my bedtime but I've really enjoyed writing this update. I feel as if I'm making progress and I'm grateful to have you as readers. Just being heard is such a great feeling. I'm going to try to pick up the pace if I can writing in this blog. I kind of slowed down this week.

How have you all been?

Car and NAMI

I called the place where my car was towed on Monday but the phone was disconnected which surprised me because this is a place I've gone to since around 1990. So I found a local yellow pages and discovered a local shop. I called there and a man with a heavy Russian accent answered the phone (turns out he's from the Ukraine and his name is Yuri). I could only partially understand him which was a frustration but he seemed good tempered and patient. He towed my car to his place and studied it. Meanwhile I waited for him to call back. I had to cancel my library work till next Monday mainly because I didn't have a cell phone and I didn't go to Al-Anon. When he called back he said that I would need a rental (which he could provide luckily) because the car would be in the shop for a while. Not only was there something broken near the front right wheel but my tires needed to be replaced. The next day his son (who couldn't have been much more than 18) was sent to pick me up in the car I would be renting.

We went to the shop and Yuri began painstakingly explaining this and that about the car. He seemed to want to help me to save money. I felt embarrassed because I knew so little about cars and about money. The main thing I wanted was to have a safe car because I know my father has set aside some money to take care of this car so that I can hold onto it for as long as possible. Yuri kept mentioning insurance but I was pretty sure that my insurance didn't cover non accident related expenses. He pointed out a dent in my car on the same side as my flat tire. I told him I had bumped a deer a while ago. So he said "Why didn't you report it?" I had no good answer for him other than ignorance. "What do you like to throw away money?" Turns out you are supposed to report hitting a deer within 24 to 48 hours because the insurance will cover the cost to repair the damage. He even went so far as to say I should lie to the insurance company and say that I hit a deer recently to get them to pay to fix it. I said I didn't want to lie. Then he had me study the tires and tested me: "Which tire is in okay condition and which tire is not in good condition?" At first I didn't know but we studied them together again and then I could see which one was probably newer. He told me his regular customers get preferential treatment (like not having to pay a rental fee), "You, I don't know." So, in effect, he was both instructing me and checking me out. This made me nervous but he seemed good tempered and I needed to have my car fixed. I had mentionned talking to my father about the car before deciding when I first got on the phone with him. He assumed I was just a young woman and was obviously surprised and puzzled when he saw me. He asked me if I owned my car. I said yes. Later he asked me where I worked and I eventually told him I didn't. I felt ashamed and drove home a bit dazed. He wasn't really unkind just set in his ways. I told him I was "a bit strange" and almost told him that I suffered from schizophrenia but it was just too soon because I don't know him either and I guess I was checking him out too. He said I didn't seem strange and even tried to lift my spirits by complimenting me gently.

After I told my father about the car and what would need to be done, I felt relieved. Whereas Yuri, a hard working but poorer man than my father, is concerned about each dollar, my father's main concern was that the car be taken care of properly. But I knew full well that someday I will have to learn to handle money better because my father will not always be there. And I should know what my insurance does or does not cover and I should try to get the best deal. I've just let myself remain financially dependent on my father and now I'm way too ignorant, too soft. So now I need to get some files and start organizing important papers instead of throwing them in a particular drawer unsorted. I need to take a crash course in growing up. Despite moments of doubt I know I have come a long way. I'm starting to be well enough to look outside myself. I may have been somewhat uncomfortable with Yuri but I didn't shirk my small responsibility to talk with him and work out a deal. He showed me how small my world is but he also showed me that it doesn't have to be. Gradually I will take on more responsibility. I have strong hopes for progress in the next 12 months.



I saw my therapist today, the first time in over a month. She had major surgery on her foot and only returned to seeing her clients last week. Her foot was in a cast and she propped it up on a chair while we talked. After catching up on my story I talked to her again about starting a NAMI Affiliate on campus. I handed her a print out from NAMI on starting an affiliate and she read it. She gave me two names of people to contact at the university: the director of the counseling center and the vice president of students. She also said I could use the Office Of Special Academic Services as a resource. I sent an email to NAMI around the last time I saw J. but never received a reply that I was aware of, so I'm going to try again. My last resort is to actually call but I'm not good with the phone. I have to practice what to say before I say it and it takes me a while. Frustrating but doable once I set my mind to it. After I send the email I'm going to try and write a proposal to mail or email to the people from the university showing why having a NAMI Affiliate on campus is a good idea. J. said that the director of the counseling center had tried to set up some kind of support group but found that the students themselves were shy about coming forward, still afraid of the stigma attached to having any kind of mental illness. I said to J. that a support group could be small and still function quite well. Obviously if noone showed up for months at a time there would be no support given or received, just me in my lonely quest. But I have to give this a chance. It might really help someone (other than me) someday. The murders at Virginia Tech could have been avoided if there had been an active support system available. NAMI has a bunch of schools participating and I hope more join. I hope this university joins.


Monday and Tuesday I couldn't go online (only one phone line) because I had to wait for Yuri's call and so I got restless and started cleaning which felt very good. My vacuum cleaner was not working well so I unplugged it and went to work cleaning out the clogs in the machine. I'd clear one and it still wouldn't vacuum well. I'd discover another clog and then another and finally the vacuum was working very well indeed. It still amazes me how much that one appliance can do to improve the appearance of things. I feel proud of myself for working a mere two hours on my house. I decided to work on the back bedroom so that I would actually sleep there at night instead of sleeping on the living room couch which is in the process of falling apart. There's is much more work to do but just that I had the energy to do some of it at all makes an impression on me. Little depression and a basic amount of motivation, this is cause for happiness. : ) But I have also noticed in my reaction to Yuri and a bit of my reaction to seeing my therapist has made me feel self-conscious. It's a passing feeling but I'm more keen on paying attention to anything that feels out of whack. The sooner I'm aware of it, the sooner I can take some action and diffuse the situation.