Mood:  cool

The morning seems to be the only time of the day when I'm free from the depression and can write.

My hope is that it won't come back and hit me like it did yesterday.  No tears that time, just a complete lack of energy and will.  Sometimes I didn't even have anything in me to speak.  Normally I paint standing up, but, yesterday my body was like lead so I pulled a chair up to the wall and painted while sitting down.  The paint session didn't last long.  Too tired to move the brush.  I also lacked interest, or mental ability, to watch a movie. 

I know what depression is because I've had it before.  When I was 19 through 21 with the onset of schizophrenia I was very depressed, and in fact the doctor thought my trouble was only depression, an atypical depression with psychotic features.  It seems that when you feel really, really low your grasp on reality can get loose, same way that when you get really high and manic you can float off into psychosis.

I didn't mean to, but by "fixing" my painting yesterday I think I ruined it.  I don't want to waste anymore paint on it.  But all will not be lost because now I have a wonderful theme to work with, a volcanic eruption with people and animals trying to run away.  I guess I could start a new painting, but, my mind is so weak right now that I want to retreat to the artistic medium that I know the best and that I have the richest history with; oil pastel drawing.

If this depression is going to persist, even with medication, I'm going to need a reason to get out of the house and be with people.  I think I'm going to request that scholorship from the River Gallery Art School again.  They simply never answered me last time.  I think this time, instead of requesting a scholorship by email, I'll write a letter and hand deliver it.  I also need to ask in a nice way if they should reject me to please tell me. 

Today's activity is going to be writing that letter, and the plan is to deliver it tomorrow.  Right now though, since my mind is clear and my body has energy in it (yesterday I stayed curled in bed for many hours), I'm going to go for a walk in the woods with my dog Plum Pudding and my husband.  Oh, how that husband has suffered!  Need to spend quality time with him while I am able.

Mike thinks that once I get my period I will feel better.  I am going to hope so too, but, the depression was so bad that I'm taking it as a warning.  I need to pick up my life here in Brattleboro with people and try to make it as healthy as possible to ward off depression.  Depression is a lurking danger that I had forgotten about, being free of it for so many, many years.

Posted by dignifyme at 8:31 AM EDT

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Mood:  cool

Have had a rough couple of days.

Friday I saw my therapist and mentioned to her that I've been feeling depressed.  I told her that the move to Brattleboro still is a problem, that I have no friends and haven't yet settled into the Community.  I'm afraid to walk down the street, it is a quiet, low grade fear, and some days it stops me and some days it doesn't.  This place, even after a year, still isn't familiar and "safe".

Then Friday evening the tears started comming and they kept on comming through Saturday.  Mike said, "I wish you could take a small canvass and just paint your feelings out."  I had to tell him that the depression was an emptiness, a lack of completion.  It seems when I am depressed that I don't like myself and I don't like my life.  I feel like a waste.  A schizophrenic waste of a human being.

A number of things could have triggered the depression.  The stressful trip to San Francisco.  Seeing the life of my sister there or the pictures of the wedding afterwords.  She is thin and pretty (and happy) and I look fat.  There is the change of the season with the days getting shorting and darkness creeping forward.  I just submitted an article for "Schizophrenia Bullitain" and while that should make me feel happy all it does is make me feel anxitious about it being accepted and horribly exposed for the world to see how defective I am.  Money is a worry, I wish my husband were more ambitious or at least practical.  We have nothing for retirement and he isn't trying to get the book he's written published or write a new one.  If we have any safe financial future the weight is all on me to make it happen.  I have to write a book or break into a new style that will sell paintings.

At last there is the strange case of the painting I am currently working on.  It is wrong and it is hopefull all at once.  I've wanted to take a knife and slash it.  It is large, 36" x 48".  And it is pure Geodone style.  A new style going back to the eirie primitive style of Risperdal.  I take risks that leave me very frightened.  It is more impule driven, painted on the fly.  I'm going to finish it even though I fear it is a waste of paint because there is so much experimentation going on that I can't waste this novel experience of using paint differently.  My husband is enthusiatic.  My normal process of painting involves a lot of planning and slow use of tiny brushes.  Now I use large brushes and like in jazz music, I make it up as I go along.  The name of the painting is "The Last Day of Pompeii".  You know, when the volcanoe blew up and killed a lot of people in Roman times.

I've increased my Prozac from 20mg to 40mg in the morning.  Have to call my therapist on Tuesday and o.k. the switch.

Posted by dignifyme at 9:32 AM EDT

Updated: Sunday, 3 September 2006 11:00 AM EDT

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Mood:  down

Woke up this morning and had a hard time focusing my eyes.  I don't think that my eyeballs were synchronated.  Or the lenses in them weren't dialating right.  Neither could I tolerate bright light very well.  Probably it is because I became over-medicated yesterday flying home from San Francisco.  I needed to keep on popping pills.  We arrived at the airport by Taxi in California at 11am and finally left the airport in Connecticut with our car at 12:30am, arriving in Vermont a little after 2am.  I drove part way home with clear vision.  It was only when the adrenelin and anxiety ended and after a long night's sleep that the extra medication in my system started giving me side effects.

The Geodone isn't working well.  I get these moody spells where I feel dark about myself and the world.  Something in my chest feels constricted and I have anxiety about nothing in particular.  I can feel it right now, that there are things wrong with the world and that my future is grim.

Upon arriving home and reading my email I discovered that my artwork, "Karen With Pineapple" on the May 2007 cover of the psychiatric journal "Schizophrenia Bullitain".  I'm going to get a copy and have the cover framed.  Ha, if I were on better medication I would be happy about this honor all day long.

I just spent $100 ordering a 3 month's supply of Geodone so I'm going to take the drug until my supply runs out.  It isn't like I have any heavy responsibilities.  No children or normal job so I don't have to be in peak form.  I am giving a lecture on October 25th at the town library on "Schizophrenia, Art & Recovery" which still needs to be written and get promoted.  All I really want to do is paint but I suppose that tomorrow I will go to the town library to work on my script (of which several drafts already exist).  When I was a kid I'd start working on my Halloween costume in September, and the old habits stick.  I start early working on the things that really matter to me.

Posted by dignifyme at 8:38 PM EDT

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Mood:  lazy

Today my husband and I start a project to chart my progress on Geodone.  We will use a diary and then transfer the information to a spreadsheet for analysis. 

Yesterday was a big work day, I spent many hours painting and then had a normal evening.  The need to chart when I take my medication and how much is now pressing because we don't understand the correlation between good mood and good cognition, the good days, and the schizophrenic symptoms - of which I am having unusually short, strong episodes.  We treat the illness as fast as we can with medication, but, when the symptoms strike we are still slow to recognize them for what they are.  It is hard to differentiate general tiredness from a downward schizophrenic cycle. 

We will chart when I take the Geodone, how much, periods of high stress and/or work, energy levels, and symptoms of the illness.  Here is a sample of today's diary entry:

7am- woke with a clear mind. At 9am ate breakfast and took 20mgG(odone).  Quiet activity, level mood.  Beaded a necklace.

11am-2pm Worked at the Museum.  Dynamic and talkative, social and interactive, responsible for visitor's admissions and sales from the gift shop.  Medium/high stress.

3pm obviously tired. 40mgG

schizophrenic symptoms start at 5pm, treated with medication at 7pm.  Take my normal evening dose of 60mgG with 1/2 tablet of a klonopin narcotic to calm me.

On a scale of 1 to 10, with #10 being the worst, my husband rated me a #9.  Lost ability to speak.  No eye contact and repetative motion, clawing at the wall.  Scratched self a bit.  Needed to be restrained by husband so not to damage the wall. 

8pm regain sense of humor and start teasing my husband, suggesting that he is having homosexual fantasies.  We watch a movie together.  I enjoy the movie.

10pm wide awake.  Tiny echo of schizophrenic emptiness.  Loss of meaning, ie. all activities are similarly futile.  Have energy but difficult to focus and find a direction.  Blog and return to beading project.  Maybe read before bed.

Posted by dignifyme at 10:15 PM EDT

Updated: Monday, 14 August 2006 10:49 PM EDT

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Mood:  d'oh

Had a tough day today and increased the dose of Geodone I take.  Since it is the weekend I made the decision myself and will try to talk to my therapist on Monday.  I can't see any objection to my taking more medication.  They only worry when you decide to take less.

Two nights ago I fell down a hole in my mind, quite like Alice sliding down the rabbit hole.  It started with my being hurt that my husband stayed late at work to read a book (odd behavior - why not come home and read the bood?) and ended with me curled on our bed in a fetal position unable to speak or move.  I couldn't stop the fall.  During dinner I was silent, focused on my dinner plate, the food and utensils and unable to make eye contact with my husband and his daughter.  I listened to their light banter and understood that it was very normal, but, I had no way of emotionally connecting to anything that they said.  I experienced no humor and no curiosity.  To them it simply appeared that I was in a bad mood.  But they didn't know how far away I was in my mind, they did not know the true alien that I had become.

After dinner I retreated to the bedroom.  When my husband came to check on me I said, "five".  And then repeated "five".  My voice was firm.  Adament.  The next word I was able to push out was "blue".  My husband said, "Karen you are breaking down."  And it was true.  The Karen that he knew ceased to function as she normally does.  When I am in despirate need I will say one word that makes no sense - it is a clear sign of distress.  Since I can't make sense, to say something logical, I say something random because that my mind can manage to do.  I suppose an alternative would be a hand signal, meaning, "I am sick and in trouble."

 My husband asked me if I wanted medication and I nodded my head.  It was hard for me to open my eyes to look at the pills - I felt about in the medicine box for different shaped bottles.  Lucky for me the thought process of which pills to take was very clear.  Oh, I could think whole sentences in my head, I could explain everything that was happening to me, but the explainations stayed locked up in my head.  Thinking a word is an entirely different thing from saying a word.  Usually two processes work in perfect union, except, when you have a disease like schizophrenia which separates thought from action and spirit from emotion.

My medication brought me back nicely.  Later that night my husand and I had sex.  My life is a very strange adventure.  My husband must be rather special himself to be able to join me on it.  His adaptablility to changing circumstance (my changing consciousness) is extraordinary.

Today I circled that dark hole but I did not fall down it.  My emotions puzzled me.  I thought to myself that I have everything that a person with schizophrenia could ever want or need.  A safe place to live, a husband who provides for me and loves me and has nice sex with me, a dog, and painting artwork to keep me busy with dreaming of fame and fortune.  I have the things that ten years ago were just a dream, and yet, after acheiving it all, it all felt like nothing.  So yes, I was puzzled today.  Intellectually I know that I am blessed.  But my emotions were so barren, I had a waste land inside of me.  I tried to meditate in the morning and then once more in the afternoon.  Focus on breathing.  Stay in the moment and observe the moment.  It was a short help.  But in the end, in late afternoon I took extra Geodone, and it was Geodone that has returned me to normal.

I'm going to stop writing and go hug and kiss my husband.

Posted by dignifyme at 9:57 PM EDT

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Mood:  incredulous

Had to stop painting this morning because I felt weak standing. Apparently I woke with a urinary track infection from dehydration. Took some painkillers and they worked, but there must also be a low grade fever from the infection as well.

I don't think I have diabetes. But that is always a worry. Now that I have a normal appetite the binge eating disorder is rearing it's ugly head. Didn't know that mine was so bad. I know that my sister has it bad. She has had it for years. It became serious for her a little earlier than it became serious for me, but by the end of our twenties we each had knowlege of this behavioral weakness. I don't know why I'm suddenly conscious of it now. Probably it is the medication change. I'm getting more memories of the time before I started Zyprexa and Seroquil. The last eight years feel like a vaction from "the real me". I once talked on-line to a mother of a schizophrenic who had been telling her that "he felt like he was dying". Well, up until Geodone I'd been telling Mike that for years. It was always in the context of physical change - a combination of bad eating habits, constant hunger, lethargy, and weight gain had all made me feel like life itself was ebbing, leaving me. Now I wonder. It made sense to point the finger at physical disintegration, but, was there also an ebbing of self? I asked Mike if I've ever mentioned how I feel like I am dying once I started Geodone and he said no. Until then, it was a vocal complaint at least once every three months.

Now that I am on a weaker drug I've got a new maxim. "To feel alive you must live with mild symptoms of the illness." The heavy anti-psychotic drugs that totally or near totally irradicate the schizophrenic symptoms also hit too hard mysterious parts of the person. It feels like I am picking up my life again at age 30, when I moved off Risperdal. I've got this memory line of internal feelings and sensations that pretty much stops with Zyprexa. I'd rather be mentally weaker and have that personal treasure trove of thought. It reaches back to childhood.

Read an email correspondance between Micheal and his brother. Mike is very blunt about my loss of "mental accuity" with Geodone. He correctly pointed out as well my utter lack of interest in selling art or taking part in art world business. I'm "happy and content just making art". It is true that I don't care about much else other than making art. I've even concidered quitting my museum volunteer job. At first it was because I was making outrageous mistakes with every customer but that fogginess has passed. Now it just seems that I have ants in my pants. It is hard to make time pass when there is no visitors or task to accomplish. Once the three hours flew by because I spent the entire time drawing. But last time once I was mentally spent on drawing all I wanted to do was leave. Oh, I hate clock watching. 

The trick at the museum is to bring a variety of materials that are good for a variety of concentration strength.  For instance, drawing materials are good for strong concentration.  But when I weaken I can't do it anymore.  That is a good time to switch over to reading a book or magazine.  The time I ran into trouble was when I brought only drawing materials and no light reading.

Posted by dignifyme at 9:21 AM EDT

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Mood:  not sure

My mother said to me, "You now sound like a normal person when I hear your voice on the phone.  Before you sounded sharp.  Too sharp."

A few nights later, while my husband and I were swinging on swings, playground sand beneith our feet, he said to me, "There is one change that we both know about."

"What is that?" I asked.

"You know.  We've talked about it before."

"I haven't a clue what you are refering to."

My husband sighed. "You've lost your edge."

Then I remembered. "Mom said that you were sad.  You rather enjoyed having me so intelligent and perceptive.  I was your trophy wife."

My husband ignored my good humor.  He warned, "You may not be able to write as well as you used to." 

Probably, at that moment, I smiled.  He is so new at this.  The Big medication change where abilities are lost and abilities are gained.  But I am an old hand.  I make my choice and stick to it.  Regret and sadness?  A small amount.  I'm only human.  But I'm also a mature woman and don't have time for excessive anger and fist shaking at God and fate.  In my head I have a picture of myself as a swimming shark.  This shark is me and I am ancient and relentless and the perfect machine for hunting fish.  But my fish is the fish of happiness.  Like a shark I will find it and I will swiftly gobble it.  Usually the ideas of sharks and happiness don't go together in most people's heads.  But they do in mine.

My prediction is that Geodone is going to be a drug for me like Risperdal.  I will lose some ability, in fact the family has already commented on what I have lost.  My husband says that I am more simple.  This is not enough information.  I push.  "Like a labotomy simple?"  No.  He says that he just has a general feeling that I am more simple.  But, he adds, I seem happy.  

Why would a girl endure such a change?  Two reasons.  First, I have already lost weight.  It won't be easy to continue losing weight, have to cut out the sweets and walk more, but the incessent hunger is now gone and I am satiated more easily.  As I write this I am wearing a white blouse that I haven't worn since last spring.  Before Geodone wearing it would have been indecent, the buttons were straining to pull apart at the bustline.

And then there is this.  My Risperdal period of art was prolific and astoundingly creative. (check www.schizophreniaandart.com).  It has long been my suspicion that there is an unequal balance between language making and image making in my mind.  Increase the abilities of one and the abilities of the other lessen, and vice versa.  Right now my imagination feels fruitfull.  Not languistically but pictoraly.  Last weekend Mike moved the track lighting in our bedroom and bolted three painting easles to the wall.  At this moment I am concidering painting in my white blouse.  It will be a foolish thing to do, but now that it is on I don't want to take it off.

Only time can prove how my art will change.  But change it will.  Currently I am finishing up canvasses that were started as long as three years ago.  Large differences will first appear in the craypas drawings (begun new and finished quickly).  I predict a return of mythological subject matter.  More dreamlike views.  Less relience on photographic source material.  And a freer use of color.   Color that is not logically related to the object.  Color that is needed only in relationship to the other colors; ie. the dress is red so paint the outline of the dress light blue and green.

It still takes a lot of hard work to create a piece of art.  Inspiration and drive is not magically raining down upon my head like a gift of mana from heaven.  Discipline is still nessesary to overcome the aimlessness of schizophrenia.

Enough.  I'm going to go paint.  More on the Geodone changes next post.

Posted by dignifyme at 12:01 AM EDT

Updated: Monday, 24 July 2006 8:04 AM EDT

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Mood:  spacey

This is me today and the latest painting I am working on. At the bottom, that is an original song I wrote. And that machine on the right side of the canvass is used for causing brain damage in monkeys and then dissecting them afterwords. It's science.

It might be a lazy Sunday. Except I am going through a medication change that causes me a lot of anxiety. It isn't normal anxiety. It is chemically created and it feels like the world is constantly made out of glass and constantly shattering.

I'm starting a new medication that hopefully does not have the side effect of making me hungry. This is the way my nurse practitioner is monitoring the change.

First my old medication dose is reduced about 16%. It is only a small reduction in mg. At the same time I am given 75% of the target dose of my new medication. As this new medication starts increasing in strength, I become literally over medicated and start experiencing side effects.

The nurse is pleased by the level of anxiety I experience because this is proof that the new medication is working. She says the side effect is not the problem, the worry is, can I endure it? I pace. I cannot read. I cannot watch t.v. I can clean - vacuum, do the dishes and sort out the pantry. I can bead a necklace. As I write this my arms feel a bit on fire and I want very much to stop writing - but I won't until the topic is completed. And I can paint in short spurts.

Oh, how I hope next Friday when I see the nurse again she will bring down my old medication more. Although, I am afraid that since the new medication will be brought up to 100%, I am going to have to live about 3 more weeks of this half life.

This sort of medical service you get if your nurse practitioner has seen several decades of service at McLean Hospital in Massachusetts. The complete and utter hardening to suffering. It is, simply, necessary suffering.

Posted by dignifyme at 6:41 PM EDT

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