I am feeling well, and empowered again.   This is truly a Christmas gift, something spiritual and divine.  God hears my prayers, these days.  It's true, I fell into despair before Christmas, deep despair.  But it's also true, that I had the strength to climb out of it.  For this, I am grateful.  I don't know how I did it, but it happened.
     Usually, Christmas is hard on me.  I get overwhelmed by the crowds, the stimulation, the financial burden, the memories, the flashbacks.  But we simplified it, this year, by doing less shopping trips, and less visiting. My husband and I went to Maine, a rural, God's Country type of state, to visit my mother.  I am, her only child, so it was just the three of us and her 2 big dogs.  And it was so peaceful, relaxing and wonderful.
    I am trying hard to make new memories in my life...Good memories.  I believe that this will be helpful to flush out the bad memories, from the past.  And I am learning to take control and manage my own life, which has helped significantly.  And I pray....

     Today, I am feeling quite a bit better than I had felt for the previous 3 days.  I still do not feel 100% like myself, but I could cope today, with life.
     Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, I fell apart, I couldn't think clearly, I had nightmares each night, I cried most of those days.  I stayed in my house, in my nightgown, huddling with my pillow.  It hit me like a ton of bricks, one day I was happy, the next day, I was shell-shocked and devastated.  And I knew that it was all because of the time of year.
     I am reminded of the year, when, I was 9 years old. It was Christmas, and an old ex-boyfriend, of my mother, and his brother, got drunk and fought until the brother broke a ketchup bottle over my mother's ex's head.  It was bloody and all the children were screaming.  I can't wipe out this memory, no matter how I try.
      And I am reminded that my awful father never seemed to want to spend the holidays with me, but he would spent them with his other kids.  I try not to think about him too, but the memories invade me.
      I saw my therapist yesterday afternoon, and we talked quite a bit, and I think that it really helped me a lot.  I think that I now have strength, to make it through this Christmas.

     It is, indeed, the Holiday Season.  And is it hitting me hard.  I feel completely anxious, depressed, overwhelmed, as I seem to feel every year, at Christmas time.
     Yesterday morning, I woke up extremely anxious.  I became angry with my husband because he didn't have much time to spend with me yesterday morning.  I was caving inside and I felt that I needed his calming presence, but he was busy getting ready for work.  I took some medication, to calm me down and went to work.  The medication hit me hard, I felt drugged and off-balance, I could not concentrate.  After an hour at work, I went home.  I was extremely depressed all day.
      Even though today is my day off, I told my boss that I would come in if I felt better.  But when I woke up this morning, I felt worse than I felt yesterday. So, I did not go to work.  I have been crying excessively, all day so far.  I became angry with my husband because I felt that he should have stayed home with me today, because I am such an emotional mess.  Fortunately, he is coming home early today.
      I'm feeling really scared.  I want to go back to work, and a peaceful life.  This is supposed to be a happy time of year, but all it does to me is cause me anguish.  I am seeing my therapist tomorrow, I'm hoping that it will help.

     I have been saddened by another massacre, committed, in an elementary school, in Connecticut.  The shooter was supposedly mentally ill.  This sickens me, because innocent children died, unmercifully.  And it sickens me, that because of this killer, the mentally ill population are given a bad reputation, therefore, increasing the stigma against the mentally ill.  I want to say horrible, vulgar things about the killer, because, I am so disgusted by him, but he does not deserve the attention, even dead.
     I believe that most mentally ill people can be treated with medication and psychotherapy.  But, I also know that many mentally ill people have slipped through the cracks and their conditions go untreated because 'We don't have the resources".  Well, I'd like to say to the Government: "FIND THE RESOURCES".

     My life was going beautifully, happily, well, and I was so thankful, so grateful for it.
      But this morning, I fell apart, crying for hours, for no obvious reason.  I guess that this must be the curse of Depression attacking me again.  It could also be the time of year, which usually distresses me.
      Part of me knows that I should be happy, that we are celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ, but the other part of me reminds me of the chaos, the financial burden, the trauma of childhood.
      I had to take a tranquilizer this morning, to calm me down and stop my tears, so that I could go to work.  I managed to get some work done, but I did not enjoy it, like I usually do, when I am happy.
      But it was good for me to go to work, and even though my heart feels heavy, I am not crying anymore.  I shared messages with wonderful, supportive friends on Facebook, and their love and support, lifted my spirits.  And tomorrow is another day.

     I went to church this morning.  It was a small victory.  I have only gone to church a handful of times, in over a year, for complicated reasons.  The reason that I had originally stopped going was because I became psychotic.  One day, sitting in my living room, I "felt the presence of Satan".  And I felt that if Satan could turn up with me, in my living room, then there must have been a good reason for it, and I did not belong in church, and I should not bring the Devil to church services, with me.  Yes, I know how troubling and insane that sounds.  Sadly, it was my reality, at the time.
    Thank God, over time, I got better, and no longer believed this delusion, but my soul was still unsettled, I didn't feel like I belonged at church, I didn't feel that I belonged anywhere, actually.  It was easy to make excuses not to go to church.  But yesterday, I felt that wonderful desire to go to church, so I went this morning.  And it touched my soul.
      When it came time for prayer requests, I had one in mind.  I wanted to raise my hand and say to the Pastor:  "I have a prayer of thanksgiving.  I want to thank God for giving me  peace of mind and happiness. This journey has been so difficult, but I know that I didn't travel it alone."  But I was too shy to voice this aloud, so I prayed silently, and couldn't stop the tears of joy.  I am so thankful, Lord.  Please don't let it slip away.
         

    It is now December, and winter is setting in both emotionally and environmentally.  It is so cold,  dark and cloudy here in New England, and I'm starting to feel it, deep within my soul.  The winter usually brings me the blues.  This year, so far, its been an easier journey than usual.  I just hope that it remains this way.
     The holidays also affect me emotionally.  Thanksgiving was difficult this year.  I went to my husband's family's house, and even though I have done it at least,15 previous times,  I still felt very uncomfortable.  I felt that I didn't belong there.  They are nice to me, but I don't feel like I fit in.
I don't know if it's me or them, but I feel like an outsider.  Of course, it doesn't help that I don't do well, in large groups of people.  I feel overwhelmed, if I'm with more that 6 or 7 people, at a time.  We spent 3 hours there, and I felt an overwhelming urge, to return very quickly to our little home.
      This year we, are going to Maine, for Christmas to be with my Mom.  It will be just my Mom, my husband, and me.  And I am so relieved.  No crowds, no chaos.  I am so happy about it.
       The past few days, I have been very irritable.  I have lost my temper and stormed off to bed twice.  I think that I am just overwhelmed at this time of year, and hopefully, it will pass.  I am also falling asleep around 7 PM almost every night because the sun goes down so early now.  I used to sleep most of our winter's away, but I don't want to do that this year.  But I can't complain much, so far, Thank God.

    It has been  weeks and weeks since my last blog entry.  My entries have been slowing down as my life triumphantly improves.  I'm still not sure how I feel about this.  I'd like to have the motivation to write more often, but I'm unsure what to write about, now that I am not writing about my inner pain.  I could start to write more about happiness, I suppose, but it's all so new to me.  I'm still not quite sure what to say.
    I am enjoying my happy life, but I'm afraid that it will disappear.  Let's face it, Schizoaffective Disorder is chronic and my chances of relapsing are very high. But I'm trying to stay positive.              
   Of course, there were times in the past when I felt happy, but these times were short-lived in comparison to now.  My present condition of happiness has been coasting along for quite a few months now.  No, these precious months have not been perfect, there were traumas and trials during them. But I survived them, without wanting to give up on life and bounced back.
    I have prayed and prayed to our sweet Lord, for a happy existence like this.  But I never dreamed that it would ever really happen.  It was, however, like climbing a huge mountain.  I had to work hard for decades through medication changes, psychotherapy, support groups, hospitalizations, and evicting unhealthy relationships with friends and family members from my life.           
     I was also extremely blessed to have some family and friends pray for me during my last serious bout of Depression.  I really believe that their prayers had an effect on me.
     There are presently, no adequate words to describe my thankfulness for this feeling within me. I must learn to fully embrace it and not fear my future.
     I will try to give more frequent updates in the future for those who read my blog.  If there is a topic that you would like me to discuss, please feel free to leave comments.  In the meantime, I will continue joyously coasting along in happiness.

     I am so, so very thankful that I didn't get caught too deeply in middle of Hurricane Sandy. God Bless the people and animals  that are suffering or have died
     I live near Boston, Massachusetts, but I was in Williamsburg, Virginia at the time.  It was raw, cold, rainy, and windy. I was confined to our hotel room during the days, because everything was closed.  But our room was spacious, comfortable, warm, and had working electricity, which meant, cable TV.  I was a bit stir crazy and anxious because I was in a strange place, in a hurricane, but I coped well, and tried to relax as much as I could.  Frank, my husband, was attending a conference, so I was alone all day.  That was hard for me.  Part of me is afraid of being alone for lengthy amounts of time.  But I didn't panic.
    What I really wanted to do was venture into Colonial Williamsburg, on a sight-seeing exploration, but it was mostly closed.  It would have been a BIG step for me, to go far away, from home and explore some new place on my own.  I'd love to achieve that type of confidence. I've traveled in  buses, subways, trains, but never by myself in a strange city, yet I do it all the time in Boston.  And I've been flying on airplanes by myself since I was six years old.  But crowds, chaos, and big places overwhelm me.  I think it got worse when my Schizoaffective Disorder peaked.  Because of this, I almost never go to Walmart, either, lol.
     I'm very happy to be home now, safe and cozy in our apartment, with Julie Catkins, my deaf feline child, and my wonderful husband.  There really is, no place like home.    

Dear Readers of "My Uncomfortable Mind",
     I just want to say, Thank You, for taking time, out of your busy life, to read about my personal journey.  It means the world so me.  I can't believe how many readers there are, from many different countries.  The comments and support, that I have received have been wonderful.  Please feel free to share "My Uncomfortable Mind", because I want people to realize that living with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, and Schizoaffective Disorder does not have to mean that its the end of the world.  A happier life can be achieved, especially if you have support.

                                                     Thank You Eternally,
                                                         Christine X.

     It has been over 3 weeks, since my last blog entry.....the time just rushes by.  So I wanted to give an update.
     At this point in my life, I am doing very well.  I feel happy, not depressed, which was rare for me.  It is such a great gift to feel happy and content, one of the best feelings in the world.
      I don't feel paranoid, like I had last winter, when I was fearful that I would be murdered in my home, by a stranger.  I can't begin to tell you how wonderful peace of mind is.
      I stopped hearing strange music and sounds that weren't really there.   I used to feel really scared when this used to happen and I would question my sanity.
      I don't feel suicidal anymore, now I really want to live and be happy. This is a true blessing.
      I still feel anxious sometimes, especially when I wake up in the morning, but it is not as severe as it used to be.  I still get overwhelmed in large stores, and crowds of people, but I can face both now.
     I think these changes came about for several reasons.  My medication was changed, and I'm still going through some medication changes, at this time.
      During my last hospitalization, I knew of at least 7 people who prayed for me, and I came out of the hospital in a pretty good state of mind.  I also had an epiphany, I think, after I came out of the hospital.  Basically my whole attitude suddenly changed, I decided that I would do everything in my power to be happy and to live a productive successful life.
      I started this blog, for people to see that living with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, and Schizoaffective Disorder doesn't have to mean the end of the world.  It's challenging as Hell, but it can be done, and its so rewarding.
     I'm not going to sugar-coat it, it is highly possible that I will relapse, but I have the strength now to climb out of that awful hole, and I think that as I learn to handle my illness and the problems in life, my relapses will be less frequent, and less severe.  Life just seems to get better and better everyday!  There really is hope!

      It has been over 3 weeks since Nana's funeral.  It was a rocky road for a little while, but I am happy to say that I am doing remarkably well.
      My therapist, told me that Nana's death, and seeing my abusive father again, were major stressors in my life, that could have sent me spiraling into a deep depression.  And depression often leads me to psychosis.
      I am so thankful that I was able to pull myself out of it.  I am so thankful that I had the strength.  But I didn't do it alone.  I have a great psychiatrist, a wonderful therapist, and some amazing family and friends, who allowed me to lean on them, who cared enough to listen to my words, who gave me heartfelt, encouraging support, and who prayed for me and prayed with me.
      I believe that emerging from mental illness takes a lot of work, on my part, as well.  Over the years, I have learned to reach out, to those I trust, and ask for help.  I use therapy and support groups to work through my issues.  I have used art to express myself.  I have a strong faith in God.  And since I started writing this blog, "My Uncomfortable Mind", my life has changed for the better.  I feel liberated....

     Well, although I survived Nana's funeral and seeing my abusive father, I did not anticipate the repercussions.  I didn't realize, that I would open the closet door, that held the skeletons.  I didn't realize the pain, that was about to come.  As my therapist said, "It was a Double-Whammy".  I was hit with grief over my Nana passing, and hit with anger, over seeing my father.
      I fell, into a deep hole of depression, that lasted about a week.  A week, is a short-term sentence, when it comes to depression, but what shook my soul the most, was the anger that I felt.  I wanted to kill my father, to hurt him forever, thinking over and over, of ways that I would do it.  And I hated myself for it.  I was feeling horribly guilty for entertaining these thoughts.  I felt like a killer and couldn't live with myself.
      Finally, in therapy, I learned that these types of thoughts were not unusual for survivor's of abuse.  I learned that my feelings were not "BAD", but simply feelings, that I had a right, to have.   I did not act on these feelings, that is what mattered.  I am not a violent person, ordinarily, in fact, I am quite gentle.  I am, however, a survivor of child abuse, domestic abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, and Schizoaffective Disorder, and as a result, I pay a steep price, in times of stress.  And it sucks.
      I can't tell you, how many times, I have wanted to give up on life, because I just couldn't take the struggle anymore.  But somehow, I pull through and survive, growing stronger and braver after each trauma or bad experience.  "What doesn't kill you, will make you stronger".   And, I'm beginning to believe, that maybe, just maybe life gets better over time, if you work, to make it so.   And maybe, I should really give life a chance.

     I attended my Nana's wake and funeral this past week.  I am left with a variety of emotions.    
     I am heartbroken at the loss of my grandmother, we had a lot of interesting years together, she was an essential part of my life.  But it was a complicated relationship.
    I am relieved that Nana is in Heaven, now, and no longer suffering from Alzheimer's and congestive heart failure.  I no longer worry about her.  Even though she was well-taken care of, I still worried, knowing, that my Nana's end of life, was approaching quickly.  Two days before Nana died, I had a feeling that she was going to die, within a few days.  I didn't trust my inner voice, I shrugged it off, thinking: "How could I possibly know such a thing?".  Was that God telling me that Nana was going to join Him?
     At the wake I was held strong and did not cry.  My wonderful friend, Michele, attended the wake with my husband, and I.  With them, I was able to hold my head high, when my father and step-mother approached me with a "Hi, Chris", and an "I'm sorry about your Nana".  I said "Hi", and "Thank you", and nothing else.  After all, if I said what was on my mind, it would have destroyed the sacredness of my grandmother's wake.
    I haven't had a relationship with my father and step-mother in 26 years, after I outed my father for abusing me, when I was a little girl.  I did it to protect my half-siblings from our father.  I haven't seen them in 27 years because he turned them against me. It nearly killed me from heartbreak.  It seems that only my aunt, who was also abused by my father, believes it.  Nana knew that I was telling the truth but wanted  "our little family" back together, wanted me to forgive and forget.  If only I could.
    At the funeral though, my feelings came out as I cried for Nana.  I said nothing to my father and nobody asked why we weren't associating with each other.  In truth, I had a fleeting moment where I wanted to take the chair in front of me, and smash it over my father's head.  But I didn't, I took the high road and took comfort, in the fact, that he now looked like a little old man, and would probably be dead soon.  I just hope that he doesn't molest any more children.
    I also feel free now.  I have closed a chapter in this tale.  I never have to see my father again.
 
   

     My Nana passed away yesterday, and the grief is reaching me on so many levels.  My Nana and I hadn't spoken in a couple of years, though I would send her cards.  She moved to Florida and  never told me that  she was going. Nana is my father's mother.  If you have not read, my earlier blog entries, my father is a cold, child molester and I was one of his victims.  So our relationship was complicated as she kept pressuring me to "make up with my father".  But once I outed my father for  abusing me, he threw me away like a piece of trash, and worse, he no longer  allowed me contact with my half-siblings.  Nana  never fought for me, never reported him to Child Protective Services, never fought for his other children's safety.
     But I also have nice memories of her, when she spent time with me when I was a little child.  But when I got accepted into agricultural vocational school, where I thrived, and loved it there, she began to try to crush  my dreams by telling me over and over that  my education was no good, and that I should go to public high school.  I loved Nana, but could not stand her at times, in my life.
      So, now there will be a wake and a funeral, where I will probably  see my father for the first time in 26 years, and that scares me.  I have such deep anger against him.  I'm afraid that I will want to hurt him, and  I hate feeling that way.  It is not the path of Jesus.  So, I will bite my tongue and refuse to acknowledge him.  Please pray for me.

     I thought that I would give an update of my status at this present time.  I think that overall, for me, I am doing pretty damn good!  Parts of this summer were very hard because I had days where I had flashbacks, bad memories, and even auditory hallucinations.  But  I have been able to cope with these things very well.  Yes, I cried, at times, but I did not want to die.  I'd get knocked down, but I'd get up amazingly well.  It has been this way since I got out of the hospital, in January.  Before, in my life, I would fall apart over every upset, and not know how to put myself back together.  Now I have been granted some type of power, it feels like, a power of great strength.  And I realize that I have been given a blessing, that I will forever treasure.
     It took decades to reach this point, 26 years of counseling, 26 years at different medication attempts, a year of Electro-Convulsive Therapy, numerous hospitalizations, and the prayers and love of many wonderful people.  I'm not saying that I will ever be cured, but I came to a revelation that life is good and I must really try to live it to it's fullest.
     I want to thank the people that love me, and thank God, for giving me strength to persevere.  Nothing I say, will ever be able to thank them enough.

     I think that one of the things, that carries me through all of my days, is my strong faith in God.    Every day, I pray, usually for someone else, but on my worst days I have pray for me.  And God listens to me, answering and fulfilling countless prayers for me.  My Pastor has called me a "Vessel", in other words, a conduit to God.  Strangers and people I barely know, constantly confide in me their problems and life stories.  I usually just listen, sometimes offering advice, if I have any. Most of the time I know that God has heard their stories through me, and I just pray.  I don't go to church as often as I should, and I haven't opened a Bible since I was a child, when I read it extensively.  I just know that to talk to God and to feel the presence of the Lord is what is really important.  
     But at times, I wonder if my ability to feel the presence of God, is a delusion.  You see, a year and a half ago, I also felt the presence of Satan.  I was in a bad state of mind, and refused to go to church for months because I felt that I was being followed by Satan, and didn't want to bring Satan into such a holy place like church.  Fortunately, this paranoid delusion went away, after treatment.
     Delusion or no delusion, I will not give up my faith in God.  When I  am falling apart God is there to listen, when people are often not.
      I feel You, Lord.  I know that You have granted me a most difficult journey in life, but You gave it to me because I am brave, strong, compassionate , and full of love for others.  With You, Lord, I want to help  as  many people suffering with mental illness as possible.

     Recently, a massacre was committed in a movie theater killing a dozen people, and injuring dozens more.  I refuse to name the killer because, I don't believe he deserves recognition.  I believe that he was mentally sick, but because he prepared for the killings in secrecy, I believe that he knew it was wrong.  If you are truly insane, you do not know the difference between right and wrong.  At least, that's what I've learned.  But because the news reports have claimed that he is an "undiagnosed Schizophrenic", people have "raised their eyebrows", to say the least. 
      It's tough admitting to anybody that you are mentally ill.  Most people react with surprise, to me telling them.  Some people distance themselves from me, letting their imaginary fears take over them.  And some people have ended friendships.  I'm still me, even though I have Schizoaffective Disorder.  I'm still "sweet, kind, and loving", as my friends and family have said.  I'd do almost anything for those I love, I'd give a stranger the shirt off my back.  I'm not violent, I wouldn't hurt anybody.  I know when my illness is trying to take over my mind, and I get help for it ASAP when it happens. 
      Mentally ill people get a bad reputation when sick people commit sick crimes, when in reality, only a few of us ever even think about committing crimes.  I think that the stigma against mental illness is one of the things that bothers me the most.  I'm fighting a tough battle against my illness, and I don't need discrimination thrown into it, it makes the fight so much harder.  I just want to be accepted.

     I know that "My Uncomfortable Mind" has a lot of tragedy written in it, but I want to make it clear, that I have a lot of happy days, and I am forever thankful for them.  I am also thankful for the people and animals that love me, and I am thankful for God.
     I believe that because I have lived through many horrible situations, that I can see the beauty in normality. Small things please me and make me happy.  I am thankful for my sanity (on my good days), I am thankful for my job, I am thankful for a nice place to live, for food everyday, for my good disposition, for understanding, and open-minded people around me, for being able to live in New England, for good medication, and awesome therapy......should I go on?

     I'll be glad when the summer is over.  I hate the summer and I also hate the holiday season, because they bring up a lot of old, bad memories and flashbacks.  Sure, its beautiful out there but the heat reminds me of when I visited my father in Texas, as a little child and he would make me stay outside in the yard, with no shade, under the hot, beating sun for hours, no matter the temperature, and nothing to drink.  And if he brought me into the house he would abuse me in perverse ways.  Either way it was torture.  I am thankful that I have escaped my past, but the memories seem to follow me everywhere and I can't shut them off.  I've been telling myself that I am strong, but I am a scared, little child inside.  I find myself depressed, sad, and angry at times.  I cry easily, lose my temper easily.  I have been hearing music that isn't there, a symptom of my Schizoaffective Disorder, which scares the Hell out of me because I feel like my mind is spinning out of control.  My PTSD leaves me with flashbacks, and fear, hurtling me back decades in my mind, to horrible moments.  I want to beat all this, I just don't know how.  Please, God, take all the bad stuff away and restore me with inner peace.

     Yesterday, while waiting at the Lowell Train Station, I had an interesting, spiritual experience.  I think that I heard the voice of God.  But he spoke to me intuitively, not in a booming tone as one might expect.
     I had just taken the train to Lowell, a city with a large drug population, lots of crime and inexcusable poverty.  I walked over to a bench to wait for my husband to pick me up and noticed a weary sad-eyed young woman, who looked to be in her young twenties.  Something inside me...the voice of God, I believe, told me to speak to her.  "Hi!  How are you?", I said.  She replied with: "I want to go home."  "I can't go home..."  I said: "Why not?"  She said: "I have no money for the train".  Without even thinking....the voice of God, I believe, told me to say:  "I'll give it to you...how much do you need?  She proceeded to tell me that she had just gotten out of jail for drugs and wanted to get out of Lowell for good, to get away from it all.  All the while she had tears in her eyes.
    I gave her the money and questioned myself, wondering if I had done the right thing.  But I watched her as she bought a train ticket, and not drugs.  She came back to sit beside me and thanked me profusely.  I said:  "The only thing I want you to do is help someone else, in need, someday.  That's how the world should be.  And try to stay away from drugs."  She nodded her head, tearfully.
     Did I really hear God speak to me or is this some delusion?  I prefer to believe that it really was the voice of God.  And if I got scammed, it only cost me a local train ticket.,
   

     Yesterday was a bit of a challenge for me, and I'm not quite sure why.  But I suspect it has to do with it being in a summer month, which brings up a lot of bad memories and brings past emotions to the surface.  Or maybe it was the full moon, I know that they affect me also.
      It started in the afternoon.  I noticed that both times my wonderful husband called me, that I had nothing to say, I just wanted to hang up and tell him to leave me alone.  And he had done nothing wrong.  I felt very withdrawn and hostile inside.
     As the day went on, I began to hear music play.  It sounded like some type of Rock and Roll played with some classical instruments.  I had never heard that type of music before.  But I knew that it was coming from inside my mind and not the outside world.  This has happened to me in the past, but it still scared me and amazed me.  It scared me because I knew that it was not real, my mind was fucking with me once again.  And it amazed me that my mind was conducting this interesting music, that I could never do in real life.  When my husband came home, I asked him if he heard the music too.  Not surprisingly, he said "no".  "What does it sound like?", he asked me.  I told him that I didn't know who or what it sounded like.  "Is it good music?", he asked me.  "Not too bad", I replied.  And I was really thankful that it wasn't Country music, or something awful.  And eventually it went away, which was a great relief.
       As my husband and I talked about our day, I then noticed that my right arm had scratches all over it.  Without realizing it, I had been scratching my arm throughout the afternoon.  This happens to me when I am anxious sometimes, I become very itchy and scratch myself without realizing it.
       "Why don't we go out to dinner?", my husband said.  I usually love to go dine out, but I really didn't want to.  I just wanted to hide.  But I knew that I needed to distract myself, and break away from my own little world in order to get through this.  So we went for dinner at my favorite tavern, and then went food shopping even, and I survived it, and felt a little better.  And today, has been a much better day.

     A lot has happened over the past 6 months.  But it has all been for the better.
     I decided not to undergo ECT...Electro-Convulsive Therapy...shock treatments, anymore.
     They did help me, they re-booted my brain after 9 months of undergoing treatments, but it scared the shit out of me.  I would have to go through general anesthesia and I had a few problems with it, I thought I was going to die twice.  The fear drove me to psychosis, that's how bad it was.
They told me that if I stopped ECT, I would have a 50% chance of going back into a deep depression.  But so far, I am going strong, without it.  And I feel a great relief, not undergoing having my brain shocked.  It works, but it seems so primitive to me.
     I'm going through some medication changes.  We increased my anti-anxiety medication, and added an anti-psychotic.  So far, I am on 3 anti-psychotics, but we plan to eliminate one, soon.  The less medication, the better.  And I feel strong enough to do this.
     I had Bronchitis for over a month, and felt depressed towards the end, that's how I knew that I was really sick.  But after a week's worth of antibiotics, I feel well.  And my mind is at peace.  And once again, I feel thankful....so thankful for normalcy and the people that love me.
     I am thankful, Lord, for all that you have given me.

     This time of year, the summer months, are very hard for me, and I usually don't cope as well as I would like to.   It brings up a lot of memories that I wish that I didn't have, because during the summer, I would have to fly to either Texas, Ohio or Tennessee to visit the beast who is my father.  And it hurts way deep down and reaches in and tears my heart apart.   I know that I didn't deserve the abuse, but I'm the one paying the price for it.  As much as I pray, the memories and flashbacks come sneaking back into my mind, into my soul.  The tears only take the pain away temporarily.  

      Yesterday, I had a flashback and for a few moments I felt my face being held under a running faucet, as I struggled to breathe.  Someone was washing my hair in Nana's bathroom and got impatient with me.  I must've been 3 years old, if that old.  And there is only one person who would do such a thing to me, and that is my father.  He tried to kill his baby girl, he almost cut my life short.  I've had that flashback numerous times and it never ceases to make me feel sick.  So now, I'm hoping that by letting this terrible memory outside of my mind, that it will finally leave me alone.... And I pick up the pieces behind me and carry on, as I always do.  Please give me strength Lord.

     Today is Father's Day.  Much to my own surprise, I broke down and cried, heavy, deep sobs.
I have talked a little bit about my father in a  previous blog, but he can be summed up as a sociopathic abuser.  I have never met any one else as cold and evil as him, in my life.  Our relationship ended when I was 19 years old and I exposed him for his crimes against  me to try to protect my half-siblings.  He threw me away like a piece of trash and I never saw my half-siblings again.
    So today, I cried for the loss, of having no father, who ever truly loved me.

     My asthma is bothering me again and that leaves me short of breath during easy activities, physically uncomfortable, frustrated and a little scared, but I do not feel deeply depressed like I often do when I am physically ill.  Which is a really good thing, it'll make battling asthma easier.

     I was able to shower and get dressed this morning with relative ease, so I decided to keep my appointment with my Therapist and my appointment with my Psychiatrist and dragged my body into Boston this morning.  It was not easy, it was raining and I was not feeling too great physically.

But it was worth the trip.  My Psychiatrist seems to think that I am on the right track with medications, since she changed them 3 months ago.  We plan on cutting down and eventually eliminating one of my antipsychotics, so that I will only be taking 4 psychiatric meds.  That will mean 1 med. for depression, 1 med. for anxiety and 2 antipsychotic medications.  Mentally and emotionally, I am in a better place.   I do not feel depressed all the time, anxious all the time and scared all the time like I used to feel.  A lot of people in my life do not realize what I battled every day.

    Then I saw my therapist who said I seemed to be doing very well.  She said that I was making new friends, and engaging in new activities like cooking and blogging.  She said that I was no longer isolating, that I'd made a lot of strides and eliminated toxic people from my life.  She said that I had really battled my depression, that I was now on the other side of it.  I told her that right now, at this point in my life, I feel better than I've ever felt in my whole life.  I just hope it stays this way for awhile, mental illness has a way of sneaking up on you and life is full of traumas.

     I have been missing my Rudy and fighting off a bad asthma flare-up.   On Monday at work, I kept feeling out of breath, after doing simple, easy tasks.  I found my eyes tearing up.  I didn't know if it was some type of anxiety attack or if it was a problem with my lungs.   I made an appointment to see the Doctor for the next morning and asked Frank to bring me into Boston to see them.  I was afraid to go alone, I was afraid I'd run out of breath.                  
      When I went to sleep Monday night, I secretly feared that I would die in my sleep.  It was not likely, but when I am physically ill, some of my Schizoaffective Disorder symptoms resurface.  I felt somewhat depressed and scared.  And I am still mourning my Rudy.
      Tuesday morning my lungs were hurting and I was coughing terribly.  I was too sick to shower before my appointment and going into Boston seemed to take eternity.  After a Nebulizer treatment and a chest X-Ray it was determined that it was asthma.
     I am thankful that my lungs are starting to feel better and that my fears of death and  my depression have lifted.  I am thankful that I am recovering from Rudy's death.  And I am thankful for all the people who took care of me and thought of me this past, sad, hard, week.

     Last night I had to make one of life's most difficult decisions.  I had to have my beloved cat, Rudy Catkins put to sleep.  He was 17 years old, and weighed only 7 pounds...in his prime he weighed 17 pounds.  Rudy had a swollen liver, severely irregular heartbeat and arthritis. But he was blessed that he had had a wonderful life with us, and blessed because I was able to make this hard decision for him, to end his suffering.  And I was blessed that I now have the strength to go on in life, despite the trauma involved.  Just five months ago, I had been in the hospital, fighting for the will to live.  If Rudy had died five months ago, I would have been shattered beyond repair, I don't know if I would have survived.  At this point in my life, I have many tears for my Rudy and I miss him terribly, but I know that I made the right decision and I can go on.  I will hold him in my heart forever.

     I am starting to feel better today, compared to how I felt in my last blog entry.  Even yesterday, I was not myself.  My husband took me for a drive and we ended up in Harvard Square.  He parked the car and persuaded me to take a walk with him.  I hated getting out of the car.  We walked to Newbury Comics where I got a Crosby, Stills & Nash CD, and we went to Ben & Jerry's for chocolate frappes.  I knew I shouldn't have one because I am Diabetic, but I was looking for anything to make me feel better.  And even though we were in exciting, cultural Harvard Square, I didn't want to be there another second.  I was overwhelmed with the need to return home immediately.  Once home, I hugged my favorite pillow with a death grip.  I felt so lost inside.
     But today, I feel better.  Not 100% better but I was happy at work,  I did some housecleaning and had lunch with one of my closest friends.  I don't know what healed me, but it took days of pampering myself and doing what my inner instincts told me to do.  My wonderful husband took good care of me and prayed for me, and I prayed.  I think that God was listening.  And I am so thankful.

     I have not felt like myself, this past few days.  I feel anxious, nervous, exhausted and physically uncomfortable.  I am completely unenthusiastic about life.  I keep trying to do normal things, like shop, but unfamiliar places make me panic inside.  I tried to bake a cake but felt panicky and paralyzed for fear of making a mistake on the instructions.  Whenever I go anyplace within just a couple of hours, I feel overwhelmed and feel that I must return home immediately. My body aches.  I fear that this is the beginning of something bigger and worse.  But I am praying that this will pass as quickly as it came.

     I think that I have found a couple of keys to happiness.  I believe that you must take good care of your body and your mind, eating right, getting enough sleep etc. I believe that you must truly love yourself.  I believe that you must keep busy doing the things that you love.   And you must have healthy relationships in your life.
      These have all been challenges for me.  I eat one good meal a day, the rest of the time I have to force myself to consume more than just coffee.  I crave sugar and I am Diabetic.  I didn't always sleep well, insomnia and nightmares haunted my nights.   At times, I would party to excess, because I could not bear to feel my own emotions, or my anxiety level was extremely high and it seemed that only alcohol would bring it down.
     I have a hard time loving myself.  I have anger towards myself at times, because I hate being mentally ill, I detest what my own brain does to me.  And there have been people in my life who have belittled me because I was "different", and people who have shunned me when they heard about my Schizoaffective Disorder.  But over time, thanks to the great people in my life, I am discovering that I am a brave, kind, smart, loving, wonderful person.  And I thank God for making me this way despite the rough road that I have been travelling on.
     I have a hard time keeping myself busy, but I am learning new things like cooking, crocheting, painting and writing in my blog.  What do you think so far?  When I am depressed however, I don't do anything interesting, I just don't have the will for it.   But even simple activities like coloring in a coloring book will take your mind away from the pain.
     I had to throw some friends and family members away, like my father.   These relationships were toxic and abusive towards me.  It was extremely hard to do this, but I had no choice.  Learning to form new relationships with people has been hard, because deep down inside I am non-trusting.  I'm afraid that people will hurt me or throw me away when they learn that I am mentally ill.  But over the past year, I have been able to reach out to friendship with new friends and many from the past, thanks to Facebook.  And it has been so wonderful.
     Do you know any other keys to happiness, and would you share them with me?    
   

     As time goes by, I want more and more people to read and share my blog.  I was reluctant at first, because of my fear of backlash, but in less than 2 weeks, I have totally changed my mind.  Maybe by reading my blog, some people will realize that the mentally ill are God's children, too.  They need acceptance, love, and support.  Discrimination and fears need to be thrown out the window.  This is, afterall, year 2012.

     I feel blessed, so blessed today.  And I feel that way, every time I have a good day.  It wasn't very long ago, that my mind was suffering badly.   In the past year, I have been hospitalized twice for depression and psychosis.  Before my last hospitalization, I spent three months in my own private hell.  I was overwhelmed and scared and didn't tell anybody what I felt inside.  You see, I had an overpowering fear that someone was going to break into my house and viciously murder me.  This happened every time I was alone, which was hours a day, five days a week.  It was not rational, I live in a very safe neighborhood where crime is rare.  I couldn't shake it.  I'd watch TV, listen to music, try to distract myself.  But I was fearing for my life.  We tried medication changes, I went for more Electro-convulsive therapy (shock treatments) and was finally hospitalized when I was at my wit's end and wanted to die.  But I knew that if I committed suicide, it would destroy my mother and my husband.  So I sought help, and I am forever thankful to our good Lord that I had enough sanity to do that.  And I am thankful for the people who helped me realize that I could live through this and find some happiness.

     Today is Mother's Day and I have mixed emotions and a bit of sadness.  I wanted to become a mother for many years, but when I was 24, I was in a bad relationship, and was surprised to find myself pregnant.  But I lost the baby due to domestic violence.  He beat me badly one day.  I was saddened and angry for years.  And I never could get pregnant again.
     Now, I think, that in some ways, its a good thing that I didn't have any children.   Motherhood would have been  extremely hard for me while trying to battle my illness.  I may not have been able to take care of my child as excellently as I wanted to.  And most of my father's family is mentally ill, it just keeps being passed down the line.  My chances of having a child with serious mental illness were so high.  And I didn't want my child to suffer like I do.  So, I finally decided not to have a baby, and I believe that it was a wise, selfless decision.

     I am wrestling with the idea of losing the "X" and using my real name, but I am not sure if I am ready for that.  To be honest, I'm afraid to use my own name because there's a lot of evil people out there, who do not accept people with mental illness, and I don't want to be hurt, physically or emotionally.  So I'm sending this out to people I trust and they can send it out to people they trust.  That's the hope anyways.  In time, when I am stronger inside I hope that a lot of people will read it and understand that there is no shame in being mentally ill.  In an ideal world, I would not feel like I had to hide, but even a lot of my Facebook friends do not know what I struggle with.   Also, I think that deep, down, inside I am not fully comfortable with myself yet.  I know that for awhile I harbored a lot of hostility towards my own brain, because it "plays tricks on me".  But I can't trade it in and get a new brain, I can only try to repair the one I have.  And learn to accept it.

     I should probably tell you a little about myself.  I have been described by friends as "sweet", "kind", and "quiet".  I love animals, art, children, and life itself on the good days.  I have been married to Frank for 18 years and he is the most supportive person I have  ever met.  Our marriage has had some rocky points, but it gets better every day.  It was rocky because I was such a lost soul, for years, I was not on the right medicine and for years I didn't know how to battle my illness.  As my mind gets better, so does my marriage.  But one thing I know, my husband loves, loves, loves me, regardless of my illness.  I thought I would never have that.  We tried to have children when we were younger, but when I turned 40, I decided that I would stop trying.  I think that God knew that children would have been too big of a challenge for me.  So we have 2 house cats to love and spoil.

 I was raised primarily by my mother, my parents divorced when I was a toddler, Thank God.  My father is a sick, evil man who committed crimes of horrific nature against me and my mother.  He has other children but when I exposed him for sexually abusing me, I was no longer allowed contact with them.  It broke my heart.  And the police said that too much time had gone by for me to press charges because of the FUCKING statute of limitations.  And it was my word against his, they said.  Sometimes there really is no justice, at least not here on Earth.

 I attended vocational school for high school and attended Boston University for a year but dropped out because I was overwhelmed, going to school full-time, working full-time and battling depression.  I've since taken college courses at Harvard University Extension School and have done very well, but going back to school full-time just isn't going to happen, it's too much stress for me.  I have had a variety of interesting jobs, working with animals, working in colleges, working in the Biotechnology field, but for now I have a low-stress  job in a supermarket, part-time, and I LOVE it.  I also do volunteer work at my church regularly.  But I was told by my Doctor, not to work full-time anymore, when I was 36.  Believe it or not, having to retire at that age sucks.  I love to work.  And I cannot drive a car....I hit things.

Today, I looked up Schizoaffective Disorder, on Google, and when I read about it, I cried.  It seems that it includes Schizophrenia type symptoms, like hallucinations, delusions, disorganized thoughts, etc., and mood disorder symptoms like depression and mania.  It feels like a prison of sorts.  It feels like a kind of Hell at times.  But I can say, that I appreciate the "normal" days.  They feel like Heaven.

     My name is Christine and I am almost 45 years old.  This is my very first blog.  I am writing because I feel like I am living in a closet.  But I am not gay, I am mentally ill, I have Schizoaffective Disorder.  I also have PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder).  Not many people know this about me.  I have been fearful of "coming out", because, frankly, the human population has not always been kind to people with mental illness.   But isn't it time that we come to accept all of our bothers & sisters, regardless of their differences?