Mood:
not sureTopic: mental health
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.
