Mood:
caffeinatedTopic: family
The emotional tempest has passed. Mike had a marathon talk with London on Tuesday and both emerged relaxed and happy. Mike says that our little family in our little apartment is going through "growing pains".
In his heart what Mike wants more than anything is for London to live here for a while. He suffered a nervous breakdown when she was sixteen and wasn't able to help her much during the next two years. Now he is in a position to offer her a safe roof over her head. Although, as Reflection pointed out, she does have to put up with living with a crazy person.
I'm not a mean crazy person. But I am fragile. I can only imagine that during their talk Mike said to London, "If you are mean to Karen you can make her psychotic." And it is true. For several days I feared the anger that was in the house and I withdrew behind thick emotional walls. It seemed like I was cold and emotionally distant but, as Mike explained, I was trying to preserve and protect myself. I did long for London to ask me a happy question or engage in lighthearted banter - but fear made me avoid being the one to break the ice.
The day before everything was settled was disasterous. London's boyfriend came over to visit, invited inside by Mike. I was in bed resting when he said to me, "Throw some clothing on, we are going to meet Justin". Mike had forgotten the rule that before someone comes into the house I am to be given a day's notice. Not something that a normal person would need, I know, I know. But, as my therapist has said, "schizophrenia is primarily a social disease." What I think she means is that medication can control many symptoms but the person's maladjustment in social situations remains untouched. People, their simple presence, affect a schizophrenic more than any other object. People are our greatest challenge and our greatest fear, because they have the power to greatly aggrivate our illness. I am not a shy person but this illness makes me behave as if I were indeed very shy.
Justin is a great kid who has a fast mouth and agile mind. His most flattering quality is self confidence. The visit went well although, according to Mike I "looked like a deer caught in the headlights". I was stiff and frozen saying almost nothing. After London and Justin left I became psychotic talking about "blue boats", "black ants" and "red turtles". Mike felt that if he could just get me to bed and hold me that the physical contact would snap me out of it. Apparently physical touch grounds me and returns me to a more logical state. Luckily I also asked for his help in giving me medication as well, and took a bit of my narcotic and a fast acting old school anti-psychotic Trilifon.
Mike said my reaction would not have happened while I was taking the anti-psychotic Seroquil, that it is because I am on the weaker Geodone that I am so fragile. My greatest problem on Geodone has been feeling a mild pain of being suicidal that comes and goes every day. I'm certainly not psychotic every day but at some point I do feel as if I wish to die and there is something wrong and abnormal in that. Happily, the day after I took the emergency dose of Trilifon I was steady as a rock and had no suicidal feelings. So last night when they started to return I took another Trilifon and this morning feel pretty strong and even tempered.
In several hours time I have an appointment to see my therapist. I'm going to request that we add Trilifon to my drug cocktail. I did once have a bad reaction to the drug where I couldn't focus my eyes, and honestly, all this morning I've been worried about it, testing myself to see if the focus is normal. Something is a bit off. I think the trick is to take the drug in the evening once every two days, and if there is a side effect it will only appear in mild form on the first morning. I've got to also tell my therapist that since we've last met I've added 20mg of Geodone, doubled my anti-depressent, and now need Trilifon too.
Last night London was with me in my bedroom while I was painting. On the wall there are two artist's easels. She pointed to the painting that was created from when I took Seroquil and said, "new style" and then pointed to the painting I am currently working on and said, "old style". Meaning, my art now is resembling the first artwork I ever made while on Risperdal. I played the game and pointed to the dry Seroquil art and said, "strong medication", then pointed to my new wet painting and said "weak medication". Mike says that I have lost all desire to make three dimentional space, everything is flat and two dimentional. I just shake my head and look at what I'm doing and think, "brain damaged". It is weird beyond weird to change medication and see your art change.
