I don't know why. But I thought I was entitled to have the rest of my life free from psychotic breaks. I mean, I did spend half of my life, all of my adult life that way with the exception of six years in that state. Those six years placed me in a false level of security in my day-to-day living. I foolishly thought that I was exempt from psychosis. Silly me. You know what happened.
So, I'm in another Acute Partial Program. For those of you who don't know, this is like being in the psychiatric hospital, but you go home every night. In my case, I was there from 9:30am-3:30pm. I now stay half days, which means I am thankfully almost out the door. I have been here since the end of January.
These places always creep me out, so I'm always pushing to get out. This time, I let them tell me what should be done. I don't plan on going back. I want to make sure all my stitches are in before I leave (you can laugh.). I can heal later, it's not like I won't be in touch with a psychiatrist.The worst is over. This time.
These places creep me out because they always bring to mind the history of my life. I am 51. I have lived with schizo-affective (schizophrenia and bi-polar) most of my life and it will always be that way. I can handle it when I'm well and able to accomplish my goals, but when I'm sick, I cry like I'm over my mother's grave asking why. What is the purpose? Why trash my life? Have I not payed enough? People talk about paying your dues. I should be in a mansion at the top of any field of my choosing.
And, every time I get this "interruption," I down-size my goals and dreams. I try to be more realistic. I try to be more in tune with my fate. This time I would have to down-size to a fast-food restaurant. I refuse. I didn't kick my ass through the rest of my college career to end up flipping burgers with some asshole lauding over me telling me what to do.
I know a B.A. doesn't mean much today. But I was in and out of the inpatient psychiatric hospital the entire time I was trying to finish my degree. It is like a PhD to me.
Anyway, this stay I learned some things about myself. I am so afraid of going back to those 25 years before the right medication that I make my symptoms much worse when they come. It adds a panic attack. Like a PTSD reaction. It's only because I am scared. I am scared I won't ever come back and live in oblivion and nightmarish hell the rest of my life.
The other thing that was brought to my attention is that I've never really had a chance to be an adult. I mean socially and emotionally speaking, I am in my 20s, almost where I was when I had my break. I've only been living on my own for 8 consecutive years. Yes, sad isn't it? My poor parents have been more than supportive and are surprisingly proud of me and my resilient spirit.
But, I refuse to live without Hope. I'm going to step out on Faith every time. I would rather die trying to do something than give up because I can't accomplish anything. I mean, I'm gonna be here. I've got to do something. Have some goal to work with.
I came to this revelation about myself, after I got well in the hospital. They put all the "severe and chronic cases" in one class, of which I am one. After, I got well, all I saw was a room full of hopeless people. It scared the shit out of me. I mean, I am in their same boat. I think this is why I flipped at the job. Most of my clients were like this and had my same diagnosis. Needless to say, I am reluctant to return to my field of choice "of the moment." I am going to talk this out with my therapist, though. I don't want to make a rash decision.
On a good note, to date this year I have published or have upcoming publishings of 7 poems. Look for me in Blackberry: a magazine, Black Magnolias and Linden Avenue Literary Journal. I had my first short story published in November in Vintage Script, a U.K. literary journal. Don't be impressed, to date, I haven't recieved pay. But, I am building an impressive portfolio. Writing is a hard business. No matter what happens, I will always have "a day job."
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