#1

Sometimes I find it very hard to remember the positive things. I've been told this once or twice in my lifetime ...
So when a positive mom moment occurs, I will now write them down. I'd like to remember the good things too.
...Today, after a fairly nice conversation about address books and piano scales, my mom told me that she loves me. She also said that she's sorry for telling me three weeks ago that she would rather hear an "i love you" from a man. She likes hearing me say it too.

Even though I already know that this is true, it is nice to hear it. My mom used to send me Valentines day cards, and candy hearts or chocolate and I don't think that I stopped to appreciate them. Now she has been too sick to organize herself to send me birthday cards, or valentines candy, and I have found myself really missing it, as cheesy as they may have been. So when a moment like "i love you" comes around, I should stop and appreciate it.

The Center Has to Hold

Ok, first blog of the new year...

2012 starts with a trip to the Hyatt, yes! Apparently my mom is on vacation from her apartment, of course why not stay at the most expensive hotel in the area?  I wish I could do that, and then let my family clean up the credit card mess afterwards, room service please! 

The Center Has to Hold is the name of this blog because having a family member with mental illness is just that. You have to hold it together, you have to clean up messes, and when credit cards are maxed out, you have to foot the bill -- even after death, I am told. No credit card company requires that you pass a mental examination in order to obtain a credit card... and this is where we are now. Racking up a bill at the Hyatt hotel with no ramifications or consequences; not sick enough to be hospitalized, but also not well enough to know that there is not a plot in the neighborhood to poison your food. 

I think we could use a little help here please. 

Goodbye 2011, I won't miss you

I have lived through...

A Nazi attack
A kidnapping

A murder

An explosion

2 psychiatrists

3 rejections from health insurance companies
4 different medications

A hospitalization
A false graduation
A false marriage
3 different fathers
1 poisonous turkey, noodles with mayonnaise
and words that will harm baby Jesus. 

2011, I don't care to repeat you.

Merry, Merry

Do not use the following words or they will offend baby Jesus...

-Back
-Jacket
-Come
-Up
-Fence
-Thing
-Around
-Fire
-Across
-Pencil

I will tell you why in about 3 months,

Merry Christmas!

why did you make me yell at you?!??

I know what you're thinking... Why did I do it? Why did I make her yell at me? I mean, no one likes to yell, and yet, I still made her do it. I think that it's just that I love being shouted at. I especially rejoice in being yelled at so hard that voices crack, ears bleed, or voice boxes come out of throats. I relish in not being able to get any words in and savor those times when negotiation or reason is not an option.If my tone sounds curt, it's because I am, and I'm angry. It's also because I am not supposed to yell back, so here I am... blogging.

The holidays are rough for everyone, they are especially rough for my mother. The expectation of sitting down to a big happy family meal, is too much to handle for many people, but extremely hard for my family right now. Yesterday she called and asked me not to go to Thanksgiving because she was worried about my family members corrupting me with Catholicism.. Today she called and said that she was indeed going to go, but she didn't like "her and her," and would not eat their food. When I asked what she meant by this, she said "oh, you'll find out one day."... Paranoia at its finest.

I am considering boycotting Thanksgiving this year; I am afraid that there will not be enough yelling.  Instead I'll get words under breath, or paranoid thoughts about the turkey and about my Aunt who was gracious enough to cook it for us.  I made the mistake of suggesting that maybe going to Thanksgiving wasn't such a good idea this year... this is apparently the moment when I made her yell at me.

Just the phrase 'you made me yell at you' implies such a lack of control, that it perfectly illustrates the toll that schizophrenia takes. That's just it, isn't it?... A loss of control and agency... and it is not her fault either. That's one of the hardest things about all of this too, the ambiguity. It is hard enough to continue to have to talk to the person who mistreats you, but even more so when you know that it's not really them that is doing the yelling.

don't argue with delusions

I have gone back and forth about the right medium for this (memoir, novel, abnormal psychology textbook) and think that a blog is probably a good way to start. We'll see how this goes. The ironic thing about this though, is that my mother is really concerned that her information or her ideas are being broadcasted or stolen over the internet; and here I am doing just that.... I suppose delusions really do have some sort of basis in reality.  That said, I am wondering how it is that Barry Manilow got to be my father? Maybe it's the curly hair Jew fro - I have a curly hair Jew fro. Maybe it's because he writes the songs that the whole world sings - I too write the songs. To be fair, this delusion is about 20 years old.. but it does illustrate the absurdities that I have been told my entire life.

So why is it exactly that I have started blogging about this now?

My mother has ups and downs, and the past year and a half have been fairly down. So down, that I'm starting to wonder if this has become her new base line. Will I have to expect phone calls at 2am, and agree that my real father is a Nazi, and that my family put poison in her food, indefinitely? I hope not, but for now I (try) to go along with it. It is impossible to argue or reason with delusions, so conceding to them is the only way that I can have some sort of relationship with my mom. I also am very aware of the difference between her and her psychosis; I know that the person that taught me how to read, and made me mac and cheese as a kid is in there somewhere. BUT going along with delusions can sometimes mess with your head and that's why I'm writing...
The purpose is definitely not to mock her, belittle her, exploit her thoughts, or even glorify mental illness.. but it is a way for me to try sort through these things, try to laugh a bit, and maybe let others in similar situations know that I too am struggling. Schizophrenia sucks, let's talk about it,

Sincerely,
The Daughter of Barry Manilow