Tag Archives: love

Updates On A Life of Mental Illness, December 2, 2025

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Been in this nursing home for over three months. They still won’t get me standing and walking even though I’ve lost over 50 pounds. I’m bed bound most days in spite my blood pressure and pain issues being solved. They do use a lift to put me in a recliner a few days per week.

I’ve noticed a lot of people, especially nurses, pulling double shifts lately. Usually that is a sign of financial issues, staffing issues, or low morale. Naturally no one listens to me when I point this out.

My parents don’t seem concerned at all about the home not getting me up and walking. Personally, I think they are too trusting. Both are in their late 70s and in poor health.

I have been here three months and lost fifty pounds. I can honestly say that, between not having to deal with nosy parents every day and having someone help me clean up after bowel movements, my life has improved very much. My blood pressure is low enough that they are talking about discontinuing a couple of my blood pressure meds.

I have one nurse who gives me all of my blood pressure meds every morning she is working. And then I spend much of the day lightheaded and sleepy.

I’m angry my home hasn’t even tried to get me to even stand up in the three months I have been here. I’m never going to get better if this continues. My parents think it’s no big deal and it’s nothing they can do anything about.

During the pandemic I was having health issues that was contributing to my having a dirty apartment. It was bad enough I was threatened with eviction until we hired a cleaning lady. Since then, I have resolved most issues other than mobility. That’s the last thing in my way.

Even when I get healthy enough to leave the nursing home, I’m not sure where I will go. Most low income housing is crime infested and ghetto. With my social security wages, I can’t afford even the utilities on my mom’s house. She lives in a nice, near crime free neighborhood with lots of young families and middle class retirees. I can’t afford a place like that. My brother still has two kids at home. Probably doesn’t have room for me. Maybe I could go back to Nebraska and live with one of my aunts. But both are elderly and live far away from even basic medical services. Farm living at my age and disability doesn’t appeal to me.

I’m not even sure social security disability will even be a thing in eight to ten years. The federal government already has a debt of almost 40 trillion dollars. Programs are being cut. But any politician who suggests tax increases is committing political suicide. My country is essentially bankrupt. But shit like that happens when your government runs deficits most years for more than 50 years. We painted ourselves into a corner. In short, it’s one massive and soggy shit sandwich and every American under the age of 60 is going to be eating it some every day for generations. It’s one of the reasons I don’t trust authority figures.

Even though I’ve had mostly setbacks for the last ten years, I refuse to give up. I flat out refuse to let my bullies and abusers get the best of me. I do find some satisfaction in seeing I outlived school bullies or abusive bosses and teachers. Sure, it’s petty. So are most American problems. 80 years of prosperity since the end of World War 2 has made us physically and intellectually lazy and immoral as a people. I fear that the troubles we have gone through the last several years are just Karma catching up to my nation. The thought fills me with dread. But Justice is eventually served, even if it takes generations to fully bloom.

Summer 2025 and Mental Illness

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I’ve been spending more time alone than usual this summer. My mom is done with physical therapy on her knee surgery. She’s getting around as good as ever after a couple months of regular therapy. I’m happy my mom is more mobile. But I am concerned about my desire to be more isolated than usual.

Summers are usually a tough time for me, tougher than normal. Haven’t had any major meltdowns this summer, but have had a couple sessions where I was alright after several minutes of ranting and raving. I see my psychiatrist this week. I plan on telling her I isolate more than normal and it concerns me. While I have never been Mr. Social Hour, it is concerning when I had days I flat out said I don’t care if I ever make any new friends or acquaintances. 45 years old is too young to give up on new people, schizophrenia or not.

Even though I make less than 1000 dollars a month, I still manage to have a decent time on such low wages. I pay rent every month, buy some groceries (I usually buy the non perishable food while mom and dad by vegetables, fresh meat, etc.), and manage to put a little into savings every month.

Splurging for me involves zero alcohol beer, chicken wings (I’m a sucker for garlic parmesan and medium hot wings from Pizza Hut), and Husker football games. The new season starts in a few weeks. Nebraska is expected to have a pretty decent team as most of our starters from last year’s team are coming back. I hope they are right.

I’ve also been losing fat all summer. My arms no longer jiggle, most of the fat around my lower stomach is gone. I’ve lost all the fat around my thighs. My calf muscles are huge even though I don’t walk much. I am able to walk from my recliner to my bed or my wheelchair. But I really don’t have much of a desire to leave my room.

I still socialize even though I don’t have much desire to leave my room. I have college friends I talk to a couple times a month. I talk to my brother usually once a week. I see my parents a few times a day.

I still get most of my sleep during the day. It’s been really hot here in Oklahoma lately. Typical August. Should start cooling off in a month or so. First football game is last weekend in August. First games are notorious for high temperatures.

I dream more these days. And I remember them better too. Most dreams involve me being back in childhood home town or in college. I sometimes dream about being back in Kearney and unable to find my apartment. I sometimes dream about floods and even modern ice ages. When I fall asleep during podcasts, which I do a couple times per week, I can hear the dialog in my dreams. I sometimes dream about being able to walk long distances again and even navigate stairs.

My pains have also changed. Some days I have no pain in my knees at all. Other days I hurt enough to know getting up would not be a good idea. I have more good days than I did even six months ago.

I think one of the reasons I spend so much time alone is because I want to be alone most of the time. Living in the suburbs, there are always people nearby. But in the small towns I used to live in, I couldn’t go anywhere without my neighbors knowing or commenting. It got real annoying. One thing I love about suburban living is the opportunity to be unseen and unnoticed when I want to be alone. I love the variety in restaurants too. I’m thankful my parents like trying new restaurants and bringing me some food when they get home.

I spend so much time alone because I can get most of my socializing done online or on the phone. Most of my groceries can be delivered via Kroger, Wal Mart, or even Door Dash. I can get almost everything from Amazon within two days as Oklahoma City has at least one huge Amazon facility.

Now that I have a home health care nurse who sees me once a week and a doctor come in every four to six weeks, I don’t even have to leave home for health care really. Haven’t been to a hospital in almost a year. I actually prefer doctors and nurses who make house calls. House calls were normal for generations. I’m glad they are an option again.

I haven’t driven a car in six years. I don’t miss it. I can get everything delivered. If I need a ride, I can hire an Uber or Lyft. My parents still have a car. My brother has a Tesla with self driving capabilities. I don’t need a car anymore, not even in the suburbs. I always thought the idea that everyone needed a car was ridiculous. I’m glad I now live in a time and place where I don’t need a car. Heck, the only time I really need to leave home is for medical emergency. I guess if I have to be chronic mentally ill and have bad mobility, most times and places are worse than 2025 Oklahoma City.

One of the things I am saving up for is a home humanoid robot. Sure it is several years off, but I am saving up for home humanoid help robot to help around the house, especially if my mobility never comes back. I don’t think most people realize how big robotics are going to be. Wouldn’t surprise me if robotics are bigger than even automotive in 10 years. I’m still amazed at how fast people adopted smart phones and Chatbots.

July 25, 2025

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I’m getting my mobility back after my near fall scare of last month. I can easily walk from my recliner to the bed, at least when my knee and ankle pain isn’t flaring up. Some days my pain is very manageable. Some days I hurt enough that I don’t stand up.

I have proven I can get in and out of a wheelchair relatively easily. Unfortunately, none of the doors in my house are wide enough for wheelchair access. At least we don’t have any steps in here. Because the doors aren’t wide enough for my wheelchair I can’t get out to the garage to get into may parents’ car. I no longer have a drivers’ license. Thanks to self driving becoming quite common in newer cars, I’m not sure I will ever need one again.

Sadly my parents are slipping and in decline. My dad is almost deaf and can only watch tv with closed captioning even with hearing aides. My mom can’t see very well but refuses to get glasses. She’s also getting forgetful. Sometimes she forgets when I have appointments or to pick up medications from the pharmacy or even turn her phone back on after she gets home from church or doctor’s appointments.

My mom doesn’t cook much anymore. I usually have wraps, soups, or fast food. Gets kind of old not having home cooked meals more often. My dad has become a huge pessimist. But he spends much of his free time watching Fox News, complaining about how everything is expensive (even though he can easily afford most things), and is often sick.

I have gotten to where I don’t like visiting with my parents. Dad can’t hear me when I talk and he often talks down to me like I’m five years old again. So annoying. And my parents flat out refuse to make the house handicap accessible. They gave me something about how we can’t widen the doors without doing serious damage. I think they are too old and sick to even try anymore. I think they have given up and are just waiting to die.

My brother doesn’t see anything wrong with mom and dad. Then again, he hasn’t been over to visit in over two months and he lives only a fifteen minute drive away. He’s essentially to busy with his career, his house, his wife, and his kids to care one bit about his parents and me.

Personally I don’t need anything from him. If he wants to be too busy for me, let him. I still reach out to him weekly even if he is too busy to visit us. I think that that someday, after his kids have moved out and he’s old, he may regret not getting to know his parents or me better. I can claim I haven’t made the mistake of taking my parents for granted. Can most people?

I’m heart broken over my parents. I’m heart broken that I can’t talk to my dad anymore without having to repeat myself every sentence or speak long sentences to him because of his bad hearing. Mom is getting forgetful. They refuse to widen the doors in the house even though we certainly got the money too. I think they have given up on themselves, and unfortunately me.

Graduating From Physical Therapy

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Today, January 27 2023, is a red letter day for myself. Today I officially graduated from physical therapy. I can still go in and use the exercise equipment, but I am no longer under doctor’s orders to go to therapy. I have officially been at Genoa Medical Facilities Long Term Care since June 9, 2022. I moved out of my old apartment in Kearney for good earlier that month. It was tough giving up on the apartment I called home for over 16 years. But it was for the best.

I originally decided to give up my previous apartment as a means to effectively treat my congestive heart failure. Since I moved to Genoa, my blood pressure is back under control, I have lost 90 pounds, did several months of physical and occupational therapy, and made several new friends. I have lost 90 pounds since June 2022 but have lost over 170 pounds since February 2020. I think it was the covid pandemic that convinced me I had to lose the weight or die an early death. I treated covid the same way I would had I got drafted to go to war. I got serious about losing weight, I lifted weights three times a week, I quit eating sugar, I quit drinking beer and soda pop, and I gave up most restaurant foods. I’m now at the same weight I was in late 2014. I can walk pretty much anywhere now long enough to find a place to sit. I can easily stand for several minutes at a time. My knees and feet no longer hurt. The weather doesn’t make my joints sore anymore. Even my libido is starting to come back.

Once my stint in Genoa is done for good, I’m moving to Oklahoma City area to be closer to my brother and his family. My brother has agreed to help me out once mom and dad are gone. I never realized until the pandemic just how cool my brother Josh is. Growing up, we hated each other. But it helps that we no longer live in the same house. I also think the ordeals of adulthood forced both of us to grow up and realize how important having family support is. I love you Josh. Please never doubt that.

Ultimately, my goals include getting a part time janitorial job again once I move to Oklahoma City. I’d like to lose another 50 pounds before I attempt that. But at the rate I’m losing weight, I could accomplish this by the end of summer. I also want to get an automobile again. My drivers’ license is still current even though I haven’t owned a car since summer 2019. I also eventually want to publish some of my blog posts in a book forum. Before I started this blog, I self published a book on mental illness essays, some poetry books, and a book of “Hillbilly Wisdom.” Overall I sold several dozen copies of my self published books over the years. I also wrote the rough drafts for two novels. Those rough drafts have been lost to the years, but fortunately I still remember much of the ideas behind the two novels.

In spite of the trials of the last seven years, I never lost hope. Some days hope was all I had left. I had hope that I’d reestablish friendships once the political environment calmed down. I had hope that the pandemic would ultimately end. And it has, at least in this part of the world. And the best part is, I never caught the covid even once. I’ve been vaccinated several times, but I have yet to catch the covid. I never lost hope that I would eventually be able to drive again. I never lost hope that I could get more of my writings published. I never lost hope in this blog.

Even though this blog has never had a large audience, it is documentation of my life with mental illness. I’m so, so thankful I never gave up writing in this blog. I’m thankful that I never gave up on myself. I’m thankful I never truly gave up on God. Even though I haven’t been to church regularly in years, I never did lose my respect for God, spirituality, and the supernatural. As much as I love science, I never lost my belief that some things just can’t be explained by the laws of nature. I am thankful for this process. I feel like it was all worth it. We did it.

Inspiration and Bringing To Light The Things Done In Secret

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Even though I’ve been feeling hopeful and optimistic overall during the last couple weeks, I still don’t socialize in person much. Then again, that could be why I’m optimistic. While most people have been allowing themselves to be bombarded by constant bad news, I’ve been making efforts to figure out what is actually going right. My entire life I’ve heard that the world was messed up and we would collapse back to the Stone Age any day now. It really messed with my head when I was growing up. It was one of the reasons I preferred to spend most of my days alone in my backyard. I’d spend hours on end out there pacing through the cedar and cherry trees making up stories. I’d made up stories of heroes, future worlds where we solved most of our current problems (like climate change, poverty, war, disease, etc.) and were exploring outer and inner space. I never read comic books or science fiction novels as a kid. The nearest bookstore was over an hour drive away. Most people in my hometown thought “The Simpsons” and “South Park” were morally degenerate but war movies, westerns, and crime dramas were “wholesome family entertainment.”

As I didn’t have much inspiring hope in me as a kid, I had to manufacture my own. Granted, this was in the years before youtube and binge watching Star Trek reruns on Netflix. My best friend from my teenage years (the same lady who is my best friend even now) was probably even more alienated and an outsider than I was. I could at least fake enthusiasm in things like watching sports and politics I didn’t agree with. And I still do, mainly as a mechanism to appear like one of the crowd. I am actually more effected by the reactions of my family and friends to things like politics and our team suffering a losing streak than I am the politics and losing itself. Sadly, social media only amplified this.

Yet, I’m still thankful that enough people had the vision and ability to make social media work to bring it to the world at large. Sure, it was painful seeing sides of people I had known my entire life I would have wished I never knew existed. But I also found out who were really cool people I could count on in times of crisis. I may have lost lots of friends over the last several years, but I strengthened others in the process. Social media and the last few years of social unrest and change have really driven home the fact that most people have the friends they have, not because of shared interests and values, but due to lack of options. I have often had more acceptance and friendship from strangers I’ll never meet in my various facebook groups than I experienced from some people I have known since childhood.

Social media also allowed me to find out who the really toxic people were in my life. Once I gave up trying to talk sense into these people, I cut them out of my life. It was a tough process, but one that was worth it. People like that have always been toxic. It was just in previous eras this toxicity would have never been made public knowledge. These may have been the types of people who were pillars of the community in public but beat and shamed their children and spouse behind closed doors. One positive about social media is that is exposed the con artists and liars for what they are. People like that could have gone entire lifetimes being such and would have probably never been detected. The people who can be aware of how messed up those in power and in our own social circle can be are figuring it out. We don’t necessary need an entire population of citizens aware of how bad they are being cheated by those in authority that have never cared about them. Just enough to force changes are necessary.

Sometimes all it takes is the actions of only one really dedicated individual to inspire others whom in term inspire others. I mean, does anyone know who Gandhi’s brothers and sisters were (without going to wikipedia)? Or Isaac Newton’s? Or Greta Thunberg’s? Or Martin Luther King’s? Short term, fear and hate usually win. Long term, it is usually love and hope that wins out. Sure we have our problems and always will. But that doesn’t mean that progress is in illusion. I absolutely despise people who believe progress isn’t real and that even individual people can’t change. I’ve ended friendships over these attitudes. I spent my entire childhood being bombarded by negativity, pessimism, and fear. I will never go back. Hell, I feel like I was cheated by my elders for trying to steal my optimism and hope. They may have fought to take my hope and crush my spirit and kill my creativity. But they failed and they failed miserably. If anything, they made my resolve even stronger. And I’m not unique in this regard. I imagine every city, town, village, cross roads, tribe, etc. all over the world has at least a few kids who were “hopeless dreamers” who refused to be “practical” in spite of the negativity and punishments of their elders. And many of these kids grew up to be the adults who made positive change possible in their own ways. The people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world are often the ones who accomplish just that. In short, now is probably one of the lousiest times in human history to be a pessimist who naively clings to comfortable lies of the past. It is also an awful time to a tyrant so seeks to divide people and rule through fear.

Popular Sucks

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Have felt quite decent the last several days.  I have been getting adequate sleep and leaving my apartment for longer periods of time.  I’m keeping my apartment less cluttered lately.  It doesn’t take my cleaning person as long to do her job these days.  Maybe after several months of adjustments and regular maintenance I’m getting on top of hanging issues.  I haven’t had much for flare ups or anxiety for over a week now.  First time in months I can claim that.

I think I don’t feel much for anxiety or depression anymore is for a handful of reasons.  For one, if I don’t feel like socializing I don’t do it.  I don’t socialize unless I want to.  Granted it means sometimes going entire days without talking to anyone.  Which is alright with me.  Some of my happiest times came when I was alone and allowed to read, write, and research answers to my questions without input from anyone else.  And I no longer feel guilty for not wanting to socialize.  Sometimes I will let the phone ring if I’m not in the mood to talk.  Sometimes I’m just not in the mood to interrupt my tasks to listen to a sales pitch, or take a phone survey, or listen to my friends complain about how much their jobs suck, or about something my retired parents heard from one of their neighbors or saw on tv.

Sometimes I just don’t want to be interrupted.  And most of the time mundane crap like talking about the weather, politics, the latest episode of Game of Thrones or The Kardashians, how work is going, or how my favorite sports teams are on a losing streak doesn’t interest me much. Yet most people I know want to talk about these things. Want to talk about it, okay:  The weather is cloudy and humid.  Politicians can’t solve technical and social problems and aren’t the gods mass media and party members make them to be and never were.  Game of Thrones really laid an egg on their farewell season and angered millions of fans all over the world, including many of my closest friends.  The Kardashians are famous just for being rich, pretty, and famous. Come back when they invent nuclear fusion or safe artificial super intelligence.  Most people hate their jobs and work them only for the money (which isn’t that good in most cases anyway). My Huskers have had three losing seasons in the last four years but hopefully the young hotshot we have as a coach can get us winning again and the Rockies are barely breaking even and probably won’t win the pennant.  I discussed all of that in less than a minute.  No need to rehash it.  Let’s move on.

Of course this doesn’t make me popular with my neighbors or family.  Then I’ve never been popular.  Popular is lowest common denominator.  Popular is mundane.  Popular doesn’t change the world for the better.  Popular doesn’t catch the attention.  Popular isn’t thought provoking.  Popular is boring.  Popular sucks because it stands for nothing, has no feeling, has no courage, has no magic, and inspires no one to their highest nature and capacities.  I don’t care about popular.  I care about making people think.  And if it makes my friends, family, readers, critics, etc. angry and uncomfortable, so be it.  I’d rather be persecuted for being beneficial to people than honored for catering to the base nature of our humanity.

Love, Romance, and Valentine’s Day With A Mental Illness

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Today, February 14, is Valentine’s Day.  I know for some people it’s a reason to buy gifts, go out for dinners, and be romantic.  Others are more depressed about not being in a romantic relationship and feeling left out.  But since it is a day the world at large takes some time and makes efforts to reflect on the value of romantic love, it is a good an opportunity as any to reflect back on my experiences with romance, dating, and love as a man with schizophrenia.

I am currently unmarried and not in a romantic relationship of any kind.  At this point in my life I am content and happy with this setup.  This wasn’t always the case though.  As a teenage male, I had deeper feelings than many people and often showed my emotions more than many people thought appropriate, especially for a boy.  When I was ten years old I broke down crying over a girl I was sweet on who publicly turned me down.  It made matters worse in that it was at a school sponsored event attended by my parents.  Both my parents made it a point to tell me off in public for crying and being emotional.  They told me off again when we got home that night.  I never forgot that.  It was also the first time in my life I got my heart broken over a girl.  Of course it wasn’t the last.  Fortunately it did begin to steel my resolve in that yes it hurts getting rejected and shamed in public, but I survived and became stronger because of it.

I had my heart broke again a couple more times in early puberty by being rejected by girls I was interested in spending time with over the next two years.  Didn’t sting as bad as the first one but they did make me more resilient with each rejection.

When I was thirteen, I met the girl who would ultimately become my best friend in high school.  We hung out a lot, spent time at each other’s houses, traded books and magazines like some kids traded baseball cards, played video games together, and generally did things that friends do together as teenagers.  She was home schooled until high school, so she didn’t have the same day to day experiences in junior high I did.  I was still being rejected by girls I liked over the next three years, but it got to where I just got numb to it and accepted it as a part of living.  Eventually after three years of friendship, I developed romantic feelings for her.  We went on several dates, nothing really more formal than just going to dances and the movies.  But we were never intimate or even affectionate besides the occasional hugs when one of us was feeling down and depressed.  We did kiss a few times.  As good as that felt, we both had an unspoken agreement that we wouldn’t pursue a romantic relationship.  We just valued the friendship too much.  It was a short term painful decision but one in the long term turned out to be a brilliant move.

She moved out of state when we were eighteen.  I went off to college at age nineteen a more hopeless romantic than ever even though my mental health problems were beginning.  I had a couple slight crushes on a couple girls in my freshman class.  So much so that I didn’t recognize that there were at least two other girls who were sweet on me.  I didn’t realize it at the time.  I thought they were just pleasant and decent people to everyone they met.  There was a third girl who came flat out and told me she had feelings for me that weren’t typical friendship but of a romantic nature.  But I just didn’t feel the same way.  So I explained to her as carefully, tactfully, and honestly as I could that I didn’t feel the same way.  And I refused to insult her by acting like I had feelings for her when I didn’t just so I could have a steady date.  Acting like you have feelings for someone when you don’t just to be in a relationship or not to hurt their feelings is actually a cruel thing to do, especially long term.  Turns out that one girl I had feelings for dated my best friend for a few weeks.  That put a damper on my feelings for her though I never forgot her.

Near the end of my freshman year, I met my college sweetheart and started my only really hardcore romantic relationship.  We had some great times, had some arguments (like all dating couples), broke up and got back together a couple times, over the course of the next two years.  I eventually decided to call off the dating relationship shortly before 9/11 because I could tell my mental illness wasn’t going well with the highs and lows of the dating relationship.  For the last three years of college I didn’t date at all.  I was polite and decent to everyone I met, had lots of acquaintances I could join study groups with or go to sporting events on campus, but I had only a handful of extremely close friends whom I could do and tell everything to.

After I graduated from college I went back home because, like many college graduates, I didn’t have a job lined up by the time I graduated.  I felt embarrassed by this at the time but I would eventually find out I wasn’t alone and this was the new normal.  After a few months of working a dead end job, I had enough of my childhood hometown.  I realized my career was going nowhere, all my old friends moved away, and I had no prospects for friends or a career in my location.  I also didn’t have enough money to move away on my own.  I talked to my parents about moving to a larger town.  I was immediately shot down because they wouldn’t help me if I didn’t have a job offer in another town.  And I previously had several job interviews where I was told they would have hired me if I was local.  Made me very angry.  I couldn’t relocate because I had no job and I was getting rejected for jobs because I didn’t live nearby.

Finally in February 2005, I lied to my parents about a job offer I had in a town that was only a couple hours away from them but had decent opportunities, a state university, and much better health care.  I convinced them to help me move and pay for the deposit on a small apartment.  It was a cheap place I could live in as I had a few months of living expenses saved up so I could find a job.  It was the first time in my entire life I lied for personal gain rather than protection or privacy reasons.  I felt guilty that it had to be that way at the time.  But I am so glad I did looking back on it years later.  Sometimes breaking the rules and disregarding authority has to be done to do the right thing.  Life isn’t as black and white and cut and dry as far too many people make it to be.

For the first couple weeks I was out several hours every day giving my resume and filling out applications to places that would pay me enough to meet my living expenses.  I also applied to the local college to take master’s degree classes.  I had three job offers and a new job within the first three weeks in my new town, compared to only one in my childhood hometown in the several months I was back home.  Location is key, my friends.  You can have all the qualifications there are, yet if you are in a location that doesn’t suit those skills, you have to relocate.  There are no two ways about it.

I still occasionally asked girls out but still got rejected.  I finally had a long distance relationship that went quite well for several months.  I surprised her by driving to her hometown on Valentine’s Day 2006.  I had just gotten offered a decent job after I lost my job at the college because of my bad grades, which were because of my mental illness really beating me up.  The surprise was on me because she had to work a double shift that day.  I had to wait several hours before she got home.  Fortunately her mother took pity on me and kept me company until she got off work.  That was a whirlwind of a relationship.  We called it off that summer because we could tell it would never evolve into a marriage.  We just had different priorities, values, and interests to make a marriage work.  It stung at the time but I’m glad it ended before we got married.

In 2008 I qualified for disability insurance.  I had my safety net finally.  My life settled down and I didn’t have the highs and lows I did in previous years.  I also came to the conclusion I was better off without trying to date or be in a relationship.  I am definitely not anti marriage or anti love.  I just know with my mental illness, my personality, my values, etc. I would make a lousy boyfriend and husband.  I would make a lousy father too and I would feel guilty if I had children who became mentally ill because they inherited it from me.  As far as being lonely, that’s why I keep in contact with old friends and stay on good terms with family.  I have a much better relationship with my mother and father now in my late thirties than I ever did at any point in my life.  Like many children I regarded my parents like superheroes when I was six, clueless buffoons when I was twelve, would be fascist dictators at age seventeen I wanted to be free from, wise counsel and backups at age twenty eight, and now more like myself and close friends now that I am age thirty eight.  It’s been a long and strange journey these thirty eight years as a human and these twenty plus as being a man with mental illness.

Even though I have had a mental illness since my teenage years, and was eccentric my entire life, I was still interested in romance and the love of a good woman.  Sometimes I had that, many times I didn’t.  And as I have aged I have made my peace with what went on in the past.  I accept that I can’t change what went on.  I also wouldn’t change it if I had that power.  I am grateful for my experiences with romance, love, and dating while having a mental illness.  It taught me much about myself, mental illness, human nature, and life.  I wouldn’t trade any of it.  At this point in my life I am content to remain unattached.  I don’t know if this will always be the case and I don’t have to know.  I know not what tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, or even years from now will bring or how I will develop.  I’m just staying open to whatever happens and comes my way.

Dealing With Emotion With Mental Illness

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Haven’t been going much of anywhere for the last several days.  Anymore I am fine with just staying home, chatting with friends online or over the phone, reading online articles, and sleeping.  I sleep more than I probably should.  But I actually enjoy sleep anymore, as strange as it sounds.  In the early years of my mental illness, I used to have really bad nightmares several nights a week.  Sometimes I’d wake up in a panic and drenched in sweat.  Sometimes I’d wake up to muscle cramps.  A few times I was so scared by my dreams I would just cry.  I haven’t cried over anything for almost fifteen years now, not even my grandparents’ funerals.  It’s almost like the horrors and terrors of the early years of mental illness killed a small part of my humanity.

I admit to having a hard time dealing with strong emotions.  I don’t show much sadness anymore even when I wish I could break down sobbing.  I know, it’s not manly to sob or feel much of anything.  I do feel a lot of frustration and even anger toward stupidity, rudeness, hypocrisy, and people who have no empathy or compassion.  As strange as it sounds to most people, I don’t even know when someone loves me unless they flat out say they do.  I know how to feel love toward others and I attempt to send it out the best way I know how usually to have it rejected.  But I really don’t know how to tell that someone loves me.  Of course this lack of basic ability to read emotions murdered my romantic prospects before they had a chance to get rolling.  I haven’t been on a date in well over ten years.  I accept the fact that I probably never will be able to date or have a romantic interest grow into anything besides a silent interest and secret admiration simply because I am unable to read other’s emotions.  It was a very tough truth that took me until I was almost thirty to accept about myself.  I know what it like to feel love towards others, I just don’t know how to tell when others love me back.

 

Thoughts on Changes Since Childhood

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I’m currently at my parents’ house for a couple days for the Thanksgiving holiday.  My brother, his wife, and their four kids are here too.  We have seven of us sleeping in the basement but at least I get my old bedroom.  That way I can retreat and regroup if need be.  But my brothers’ kids are well behaved and old enough they shouldn’t give me many problems.

This is the first time in months I have been back to my old childhood home.  A lot has changed in this town since I moved out in 2005.  For one, all of my old high school friends have moved away.  The cousins that stayed have families of their own.  Most of my old teachers have retired or moved to bigger schools.  All my grandparents and a couple of my uncles have died.  My old grade school was torn down.  The retail store I worked in during the summers went out of business.  In many ways this isn’t the same town I grew up in during the 80s and 90s.  I haven’t been getting back to my parents’ place much the last several years as none of my old friends live around here anymore.  In many ways, this is no longer my town.  It doesn’t feel like home and it hasn’t for several years.

I bring up growing up and the changes my parents’ place have gone under because, with my mental illness, those years I grew up here seem like someone else’s life.  I started having problems with depression and anxiety when I was seventeen.  I was doing quite well in school and involved in many different activities.  It seemed like I was on the fast track to a career and life of my dreams, at least that was until the depression and anxiety started.  Twenty years later, my seventeen year old self wouldn’t even recognize the thirty seven year old man I am now.  I imagine my seventeen year old self would have seen who I am today as a failure.  Back then I knew nothing of mental illness and disability.  Like many teenagers, I also didn’t have as much empathy as many adults who have had their ups and downs, wins and losses.

If nothing else, fighting this mental illness for twenty years has taught me how to have more empathy for people different than myself.  It has taught me patience and how to accept things I can’t change.  It has taught me that, contrary to popular belief, life isn’t about keeping up with other people.  Life is mainly about competing with your self and being the best you that you are capable of being.  He who dies with the most toys is just as dead as anyone else in the cemetery.

I haven’t been giving much time to reflecting on the past for the last few years.  I have mainly been focused on the present and future possibilities.  I normally have little use for nostalgic thoughts.  But I’m sure having them now that I’m at my childhood home for the first time in months.  I guess the nostalgia has shown me how much I lost because of this mental illness.  Yet, in spite of the life that never was, I think I still have a great deal to stay alive for.  I’m interested to see what the next twenty years in this life of mental illness will show me.  I can only guess what changes will have come by the time 2037 rolls in.

Loneliness

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I visited with my nephews and niece a few days ago.  I got to see my parents too for the first time since Christmas.  I had a good time with the kids.  They are ages 12, 10, 8, and 5.  They are old enough they don’t get into a lot of trouble and can be quite entertaining.  Seeing those kids grow up and develop interests and personalities of their own is bittersweet.  I am happy that my brother and his wife were able to have several kids, are able to take care of them, and raise them to be respectable and well behaved kids.  But it does make me realize some of what I have lost and will never be able to experience on my own because of my schizophrenia.

I have written a lot in the past about alternating between being sad, angry, and depressed about the career and life opportunities I lost in the name of mental illness.  I have written much less about being sad and depressed about never being able to marry or have kids.  Outside of my best female friend, I really have little experience with dating.  I was turned down every time I ever asked a girl out on a date in high school and most of the time when I was in college.  By the time I was halfway through college I gave up on the idea of ever marrying because it just seemed like a lost cause and wasted effort.  I never could figure out why I did so poorly with women.  But I haven’t really cared for years as I know that ship set sail a real long time ago and that I just as well make the best of being single and lonely for life.

For many years I was making the best of it.  After seeing some of my classmates go through rough divorces or slog through unhappy marriages, I was grateful I never did marry.  But after seeing my brother’s kids mature through the years and come into their own, I am beginning to realize that if children are raised well, they can be the greatest things that ever happened to you.

It wasn’t until a few days ago that I realized just how lonely I am most of the time.  I really don’t talk to that many people in person any more.  I almost never socialize outside of close family and friends.  I still sleep ten to twelve hours a day.  I think that is a subconscious way of dealing with the loneliness.  I really am lonely most of the time.  Have been for the last couple years since three of my older friends in my apartment complex died within six months of each other.

As much as I hated the office politics of a job, at least I was able to find a few moments of joyful interactions everyday with other people.  As much as I didn’t like the social aspects of high school, I still had my friends and some friendly acquaintances.  I don’t have any of that anymore.  I can understand how some people, men especially, lose a lot of joy in their lives and much of their identity when they retire or get laid off from a job.  I would consider going back to work except that mentally I’m too unstable and too discouraged to work a traditional job.  Besides much of what I could do in a traditional job will probably get automated within the next several years anyway.  Perhaps that is why I devote so much time to this blog.  It gives me identity and it could be my legacy since I’ll never be able to get married or have kids.  Things have often been lonely and discouraging the last couple years.  Being mentally ill is a death sentence to anyone’s social life.