why i have a love/hate relationship with psychiatrists

flailing in the wind

so many people
are just not connected
to anything
they just throw their arms up
and blow/go
in the direction of the wind
and it works for some people
i have never had that luxury
my mind
always wanted so badly
to act on the things it conceived/
my emotions/illness
always got in the way
but i fought/
      i fought and still fight
tears/frustrations/warts
and all

i just
long for a time
when
tears don't threaten as often
and the fight is not so hard

but then in my heart
i know
it's a fight
till the bitter end
illness or no illness
-jaa

When I was young (20's), I used to refer to psychiatrists as vermin because I had been so callously treated by them at that time. In time, I realized that regardless of how I was treated, they were all I had to work with.

This entry explores my thoughts and experiences only. I can only comment on what I've been through.

By the way, I'm african-american if you haven't figured that out already. When I was younger, I thought this had something to do with my treatment. Also, in my fiercely psychotic state, I felt that white men should not be messing around with black women's brains. I told my parent's that I wanted a black psychiatrist. They could not find one where we were. The fact is there are only about 2% of psychiatrists in the United States that are african-american. This really got me down at the time.

There's a lot to be said about self-advocacy, when seeking treatment for a mental illness. First of all, God help you if you're too ill and have no one to advocate for you. God help you if you're left to the care of some psychiatrists in this state or any other. You will learn quickly that substandard care (especially in private practices if you have a severe mental illness) goes to the meek. When the treatment is not working, you have to make a lot of noise.

This is because some psychiatrists treat in this way. They will diagnose, prescribe and if it doesn't work for you, they blame you. Their stance is, "I prescribed this, therefore you should be well." I call this "the psychiatrist as God syndrome."

Then there are others, especially in private practice, who herd us through five minutes at a time, regardless of if you have a problem that hasn't been solved. They have to make payments on that Lexus. If you require more than five minutes, you need to go to acute care, take a leave from work or if you complain too many times within the auspices of the five minute framework, you need to be on disability.

I had one psychiatrist that prescribed nothing but Xanax, and kept me coming back every week. I was very ill at the time and neither my parents or I knew that this was not a treatment for schizophrenia, which was my diagnosis at the time. Now I know it only masked the symptoms. My parents had been paying out of their pocket for a long period of time and buying my medicine, I had no insurance. So, I had to get Medicaid. I was swiftly dropped by this psychiatrist.

One psychiatrist prescribed hugging a tree as therapy, she didn't prescribe medication. Needless to say, I wasn't that "crazy"; I didn't go back after that. I knew that I was ill and needed medical care.

There was another female psychiatrist who only exacerbated my symptoms by giving me the wrong dosage of a medication. I only found out because I completely broke down in her office (something I hate to do in front of people) and begged her to send me to the hospital. I was working at the time and knew I was way too ill to function. She sent me to an acute care program and I found out from the doctor there.

Generally, I have found female psychiatrists a little more nurturing. Of course, there are exceptions to every rule.


The lady who first noticed my severe mood swings and prescribed Lithium which gave me a little relief was a nurturer. This lady turned herself inside out trying to solve my problem. She is one on my "good list." I define good as having a set course in trying to treat my illness and a little empathy. "After all," I would tell them, "this is my life we're talking about."

Another on the "good list" was a doctor I was assigned to at a community care clinic. I was 30 at the time and my onset was 20 and still no one could relieve me from my psychotic symptoms. I admire him greatly and am so thankful to him. He had a plan of attack. I felt that he sensed my concern for my life. He started at the beginning and tried every anti-psychotic except clozapine. He sent me to a teaching hospital first to see if they may have been able to help more. Clozapine was a bear to get used to. I vomited and walked around like a zombie for months. But, I tolerated it, I knew it was my last chance.

Another community setting was very helpful. When they could not eliminate my psychotic symptoms (the clozapine only dulled the voices and delusions enough for me to work for awhile), they enrolled me in a research program for Abilify. They are a branch of a medical school and I am still under their wonderful care. This was the last peice of my medication puzzle. In a year, I was free of psychotic symptoms. I was ecstatic. The only voice in my head was mine. I was 45. Yes, my story is a sad one, to me anyway. And these are just a few of my psychiatrist stories.

But, I have found, in dealing with a refractory mental illness, the squeaky wheel gets the oil and you need to change psychiatrists if one is not meeting your needs. I went to so many because I moved around a lot and went through many changes in types of health care payment, in addition to seeking better care.

i have to remind myself (pass it on)

mental health manifesto (put together by jacquese)

1.you are valid just by being you. your Higher Power put you here for a purpose.

2.you have the right to happiness no matter where you are in your life.

3.don't let anybody or any circumstance take your personal power. (you have choices)

but i still sing

sonia sanchez is one of my favorite poet/writers and this title was inspired by her title for a play, "i'm black when i'm singing, i'm blue when i ain't." by the way, every poem that appears in this blog is mine.

takin' a cue from sonia

i am singing
i am singing
blue mist on
cherry blossom sunset
incantations of
Joy
inert madness
differentiates
down
       from
             incubated nights

but the moon spits

             and i sing

i am singing
out of fashion
out of time
unfunky essence
like a ufo in a george clinton
lyric
is where i got my funk from
intimate nonsense
i used to hold dear
                       build my earth
on

what is earth? now
that i am standin'
in the middle of the road

earth is a planet
i visit
as little as
possible gravitate toward
a jacquese joint
blow it up
    and effervesce
bubbles of neon
yeah...
it's like that

real/natural


my interest in writing poetry has brought me through a lot of tough times. people don't want to hear your woes all the time. some don't want to hear them ever. i have found it is better to drop them as friends for the sake of my self-esteem.

but since i've been well, i have noticed myself avoiding some people with depression problems. the person i'm talking about saps your energy like she's the paper towel and you're the spill. i had to tell myself, remember when you were there and no one wanted to be around you.

someone once said to me that when he sees negative people he runs. one guy said to him, i saw you one day and was going to speak but you ran in the other direction. with my newly acquired positivity (that sometimes fades in and out), i can appreciate his stance. it's like on a plane. the more stable individual puts on their oxygen mask before they assist the weaker one. otherwise, they both will die.

i'm having a difficult time right now. i'm being truthful, but it goes with the territory.

at times like these, i remind myself that i used to be seriously depressed, psychotic and delusional at the same time. i used to hope to die everyday. everyday. i prayed to God for years just to restore my sanity. i didn't need anything else. finally, when i just admitted to myself that i would live in this state for the rest of my life, they found a drug that worked. He doesn't come when you want Him, but He's always right on time. it was a tough lesson to learn, but i learned without a shadow of a doubt that my time is not God's time and from this lesson i learned patience.

i can't expect those of you out there who are agnostic to understand. i have a deep and abiding connection to my Maker. it is not just one way and it is Love. i know that He cares for me as a Father cares for a child. any parent worth their salt will teach their children the lessons they need to live a fulfilling life. i feel that God has done and is still doing that for me. after all, life is nothing if not a growing experience.

my father believes this growing experience theory, but he jokingly says that sometimes he wakes up in the morning and prays, please God, don't make me grow today.

so, every time i look back i have a greater appreciation for where i am. and, believe me, this bout with depression
is a minor inconvenience compared to what i used to go through daily for 25 years. even my recent delusional episode was so minute, a minor inconvenience, compared to that space of time.

i am blessed. i have a family that cares about me, deeply. and i truly feel that. i have shelter, my own transportation, food and a job that is challenging me. and, my doctor is working with me on it now and we will monitor my mood and change my meds accordingly.

sometimes, i forget where i came from and i have to remind myself that i have to have patience first and foremost with myself. there's no use beating myself up over it. it's not my fault. but, i do have to deal with it. and, i try to do that in a positive way. this is where i am now.

some ministers and mental illness

I guess I thought about my history with this because I was in a church recently when a man who was a prophet was telling different people about things they needed to hear about their lives. Evidently, he was on point because many people cried and agreed in disbelief. Then he called all the people who had illnesses to the altar for prayer. And, at one point he said that he was not against medicine but people should get off of those psych meds.  I want to point out that he was a guest minister in this church and I later joined the church because I like it there. The Spirit is there.

 But, I think that this minister's behavior in regards to mental health was wreckless. Anyone who knows anything about mental illness realizes that it is a chemical imbalance in the brain. And that the right chemical or combination of chemicals, medicines, will revive the person from the angst associated with the symptoms of a mental illness which can range from suicidal ideations and other delusional and psychotic thoughts to mood swings and anything else we may be subjected to endure without the right meds.

Through my journey in mental illness of about 29 years (25 years in psychosis), I came in contact with a pastor who told me point blank that I should stop the meds and pray. I'm glad that I'm a strong person. I didn't believe that God would give researchers and some doctors the intricate insight to deal with illness in a psychopharmocological way if he didn't intend for us to sometimes get better. To me, it was like saying pray to God to preserve your life and then jumping in front of a Mac truck and expecting not to get hurt. It just doesn't make sense to me. Needless to say, I didn't buy into that. And, I quit going to Church and only believed in God in the Universal sense and not in organized religion for a long time.

You can see how so many people can be driven away from the church; this is only one of my pet peeves with organized religion. But, I have made my peace with God and religion knowing that a pastor is only a person and I don't pray to him. As a Christian, I can speak to God anytime I like through Jesus Christ and I go to church for fellowship and because I believe God meant for His church to assemble.

To be fair, I have had some precious ministers over the years, especially one who I could tell when I was having a bad time and he would give me scripture to read. He watched over my entire family (who went to another church) as if he was our personal angel. When my grandmother died in my mother's house he was right there. And there were other ministers who helped my parents through this difficult journey when I was too sick to know what was going on.

I long for all ministers and people for that matter to be educated about mental illness so that we don't have to live with the lies or the stigma.

some days it doesn't pay (to think)

sometimes it doesn't pay
to think
best to keep comments
on the periphery
thoughts may be too heavy
and cause the walls
that are your world to
cave in

best to keep comments
on the periphery
you may seriously damage
someone

(best to keep comments on the periphery)

tomorrow
i will think
when the sun returns
and the clouds are
still

let's talk acceptance of a mental illness

I never accepted it for a long time. I thought I could think myself back into my former self. I thought I took a wrong turn somewhere in my head when I was thinking and if I could get back there, I could repair the damage.

Then, I thought that I had created some big faux pas in the Universe and this was my punishment. Yes, I am very melodramatic, especially when I'm ill. I thought I was possessed for a time and at first I thought I was a medium. That the voices were dead people passing through me. I thought I had a direct connection to the spirit world. I mean, who thinks they have a mental illness, especially schizophrenia with mood swings.

My symptoms were very real to me for a very long time. I always thought people could read my mind and for some reason this terrified me so much, I didn't want to go outside the house. My father got exasperated with me because this went on for decades. However, very early on he told me that I could either force myself to go outside the house or sit there with him for the rest of my life. I feared being an adult child that lived at home all their lives more than I feared people. This was the first inkling of acceptance.

To me, if you accept something, then you take responsibility for it. You either try to change it or you live with it. But, it is your choice, your responsibility and no one else can carry the blame. I was ten years into the illness when I was able to begin bearing that load. It was said by someone that mental illness is not for sissies. I wrote a poem saying it was a bitch; a thing that tried to take the very air you breathe. But if you could just get a breath once in a while, that's heaven. Now, I own my illness and the pains that come along with it. I just take it as spiritual challenges and growth. But then, I'm a poet.

But, don't get me wrong, it's no cake walk. Even when you find the right combination of medications (which I have entitled russian roulette, only instead of one bullet there is only one chamber empty), there is no guarantee how long that combination will last. There is always the threat of a relapse looming over your head. I had been stable for almost five years and recently had a delusional episode. I was out of reality for three days. I did some things I was embarassed about. But luckily, after a while I realized that I was not "right" and met with my doctor who increased my dose on one of the anti-psychotics that I take.

Yes, I take two anti-psychotics, two anti-depressants and a mood stabilizer. And, I'm quite lucid thank you. Which let's me know that I need it all.

So now, I have learned to accept myself warts and all. I keep aiming for goals. When I don't reach them, I cry like I'm over my mother's grave. But then, I pick myself up and start on another one with the help of family and the two friends I've managed to keep.

Right now, life is good. I am working on a goal to get to Atlanta with a two year time frame. So far, I haven't been blocked. I'll tell you all about it another time. By the way, I live in central New Jersey.

intro - i'm truthful.

This is my first attempt to blog. As I let you know upfront, I am trying to get a book published. It is one that documents my long road back from 25 years of psychosis because I was refractory (no medications would work until 2005, I had my first psychotic break in 1981). I have a thought disorder, Schizo-affective disorder.

Schizo-affective disorder is basically for me Schizopherenia and BiPolar wrapped up into one. And, no it is not a multiple personality disorder for those who don't know. Not only do I get the mood swings, I was delusional and heard voices. I had been trying to live my life over the past 29 years, but those 25 really set me back. I feel as if I spent that time in a coma. I am facing life for the first time as a fully functioning adult.

I want to use my story to inspire those who are still struggling and tending towards losing hope. If you're going to be here, you may as well fight. Don't give up. I gave up one time, this is how it went down in the spiritual realm.

convention

the day the council convened
i was puking black
in a steel cold hospital pan
they looked at each other
in disbelief
how did it come to this?
that is the day
they banded together
in the conciousness realm--and kicked
billie out
brought zora back
into focus
and told me of ancestors
watching over me
and how they worked
so hard
endured
so much
for me to be
yes
even with a thought disorder
'cause grandmommy told me before she left
this is God's will for your life
you have to accept it
and aunt emma
she taught me in hindsight
and grandmommy loree gave
me that unconditional love
i had to learn to apply
to myself
and they summoned zora
to help me write and work it out
and they kicked billie out
'cause she was lost in forever and no one
could really find her

as they watched the black flow
from my lips
to the steel cold pan they vowed
never again
never on my watch
so they asked God to
give me a double dose of trauma
to teach me a lesson

-jacquese