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.