Even for Those Who Suffer From Schizophrenia, Life is Precious

Even for Those Who Suffer From Schizophrenia, Life is Precious

By Rebecca Chamaa

I recently read an article titled “Mental illness haunts countless Americans” from the July 14, 2015 Camas-Washougal Post-Record, a state of Washington periodical, where the author said that schizophrenia was “a fate often worse than death.” It turns out the author’s son has schizophrenia. I was so offended by that one statement that commenting on it seemed senseless, but if that author really believes that, and other people really believe that, then I need to step up and write my truth.

Schizophrenia is hard. I win some of my battles with it and I lose some of my battles with it, but I keep on fighting. I want to keep on fighting. I want to keep on challenging myself to do the best I can with a severe mental illness. I have attempted suicide twice and twice my life was saved by complete strangers. I have no words for what those strangers did. The words grateful and thankful will never be enough.

I am happy to be alive. Yes, paranoia, psychosis, social anxiety and panic attacks are difficult to live with, but have you ever seen a sunset over the Pacific, or fallen asleep on your loved one’s chest, or had your spouse kiss you goodbye in the morning as you can smell the coffee they made for you still brewing?

I could write for days about the things in my life which are worth seeing, hearing, tasting, smelling, touching or experiencing. The scent of jasmine can transport me back to Cairo, Egypt and the time I spent there in school before I knew anything about schizophrenia.

It is true that being psychotic is one of the scariest things that has ever happened to me. It can only be described as living your most terrifying nightmares, and it has happened to me repeatedly, and it may happen again at any time. Even knowing that, I wouldn’t give up a minute of the joy, love, discovery, creativity, and life that is possible to take part in when symptoms of paranoid schizophrenia take a rest.

I have symptoms of my illness everyday, and some days are more than a little difficult, but hearing people say that they think living with schizophrenia is worse than death means that they believe there is no value to my life.

Tell my husband there is no value to my life. Tell my family there is no value to my life. Tell my friends and nieces and nephews there is no value to my life.

Just because the author of that article doesn’t want to walk the road I walk, doesn’t mean I don’t want to walk it. I do want to walk it. I want to walk it with everything inside of me. I want to walk it into old age. I want to walk it holding the hand of the man I love. I want to walk it with a passion for all life has to offer.

I have paranoid schizophrenia and I want to be alive as long as possible and experience that first sip of coffee along with the rising sun as many mornings as I am able. If you can’t understand that, then you don’t understand people who have the courage to take the good with the bad and keep moving in the direction of life. Life is worth living even with a severe mental illness. Trust me, I have one.

Pullout: “...hearing people say that they think living with schizophrenia is worse than death means that they believe there is no value to my life.”

Where Did My Brother Go?

Where Did My Brother Go?

By Nancy

Do you know that feeling when something just isn’t right? Unfortunately, I am quite familiar and have experienced it many times. Approximately nine years ago my brother Ryan was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia at the age of seventeen. Now 26-years-old, Ryan has endured countless “psychotic breaks” or “episodes” resulting in hospital stays and more medication cocktails than I can remember. He seems to somewhat manage the disease at times, but ultimately will end up not complying with the medications his doctor has prescribed, which lands him back in the hospital.

So our family waits for the phone calls. Usually they come in the early morning hours. Sometimes Ryan is crying uncontrollably for a reason that is unclear, even to himself. Occasionally he is upset and ranting about something insignificant which (may or may not have actually) happened many years ago.

I recall one time in particular where I knew something was wrong. I could tell Ryan had not been taking his meds, but he insisted he was, so we all just went on with our day as usual. I was working at a restaurant at the time and I remember sitting on a cinder block outside the kitchen door crying because I knew there was nothing I could do to help him. I got a phone call from his friend who told me Ryan was at her house earlier that evening, but he was acting “weird’ so she asked him to leave. He never came home, so when I got off work I went looking for him.

During my search of our small town, I got a phone call from a police officer. I don’t remember his name, but he told me Ryan was arrested earlier that evening for driving while intoxicated (DWI). I told the officer I was confused because he did not drink very often. The officer stated Ryan had not been drinking, but it was obvious that he was high on some type of drug and a blood test was done to determine what was in his system. The officer then stated that Ryan parked his car in the middle of a busy highway and laid on the ground to “listen to the yellow lines.” I informed the officer of his diagnosis and asked when he would be released. The officer stated Ryan will be held overnight and he will be allowed a phone call in the morning.

Morning came and Ryan called in tears, asking me to come get him. I called our mother to let her know what was going on. We decided it would be best to take him directly to the Community Services Board (CSB) to be evaluated and transported to a psychiatric hospital. I called a bondsman and he met us at the jail. All the paperwork was filled out and Ryan was released.

He walked out looking disheveled and dirty from laying on the ground the night before. As we were driving, he was saying off-the-wall things. He thought he was a professional football player, and he told us of the game he played in last night where he was the star player. When he realized our destination was the CSB and he would be hospitalized, he became irate. He screamed at me to stop the vehicle and let him out as he beat and pounded on the dashboard. I hit the brakes and considered stopping to let him out because I was terrified of what he might do if I didn’t. From the backseat my mother quietly told me to keep driving. Ryan didn’t approve of this and he drew his fist back threatening to hit me. Thank God he didn’t because I don’t think I would ever have been able to forgive him, even given the circumstances.

We arrived at the CSB and Ryan attempted to escape multiple times. He would run down the hall charging toward the exit only to be held back by a security guard. This went on for about six hours while the staff attempted to find a hospital with an open bed. They finally found one, and two officers came to transport Ryan. Before leaving, we said our goodbyes. He hugged me and I thought he would never let go. When he pulled away I could see the fear and pain in his eyes, the demons that haunted him. All I felt in that moment was immense sorrow.

Ryan eventually came home, sedated and a little less himself. With every episode he loses a piece of who he used to be. He is no longer the spirited and charming person he once was. Ryan’s reality is not bright and shiny or inspirational, it is dark and dismal. I fear for what will become of him if this cycle continues.

Pullout: “He hugged me and I thought he would never let go. When he pulled away I could see the fear and pain in his eyes, the demons that haunted him. All I felt in that moment was immense sorrow.”

My Healing Journey

My Healing Journey 

By Adam Stone

How Accepting Jesus Saved My Life

In 1993, at the age of 29, I began to experiment with meth-amphetamine. I got hooked immediately. I spent all hours hanging out with the wrong crowd in a nocturnal underworld. This was the drug that brought me to my knees and opened the doors to schizophrenia.

After a few weeks without sleep and completely insane behavior, a friend took me to a psych ward where they shot me up with thorazine and strapped me down to the bed with restraints. I was diagnosed with meth-amphetamine psychosis and thus began the revolving door of psychiatric hospitals and medications.

I became homeless and wandered the streets for a few weeks, but eventually found my way into a group home and enrolled in a local community college. I took English and typing classes and did well. Soon optimism returned to me and I began to make plans for my future again. I still held onto the hope that my life would amount to something.

I was obsessed with trying to find a way to deal with my illness. I went to a lake shrine to meet with a yogi monk, studied the Koran and Zen and consulted with a Kabbalistic Rabbi. I called Jews for Jesus and tried to fathom the Tao. I sampled guided meditation tapes, repeated mantras, practiced deep breathing and hypnosis. I wrote to an Indian Shaman and read “The Power of Positive Thinking.” I listened to Anthony Robbins and other motivational gurus. I combed bookstores looking for answers in self-help books. I called the Arch Diocese office for an exorcism, but they told me I had to be levitating. I even sought help from an alien abduction specialist.

Occasionally, the subject of Jesus would come up, and I would dismiss it as being for others but not for me. I thought Jesus was ridiculous and those who followed him were fanatical Jesus freaks. I believed the resurrection was fiction, the bible old wives tales, and that Jesus was just a wise man, and certainly not God.

In 2002, I decided to move to New York to start a new life. I went to what would be my last psych ward. I was released and moved into a quiet group home on the Upper West Side and attended a day program. After graduating from my day program, my father agreed to pay for culinary school. I went on to serve as an extern at many of New York’s finest restaurants. I was then hired as a Garde Manger (French for "keeper of the food") at a restaurant on the Upper West Side that eventually went out of business.

I was still searching for answers, attending synagogue occasionally, but felt uninspired.

One night, after an AA meeting, I went out to dinner with a new friend. I told him I felt like I was dealing with spiritual warfare. He turned to me, and, for some reason, I knew what he was going to say. He said, “You need something more powerful than AA. You need Jesus.”

I knew it was a pivotal moment. A few days later I attended a small church in the Bronx and accepted Jesus as my Lord and savior. It was 2008.

As a young Jewish man, going to Jesus is about as rebellious as one can get. A Jewish family would almost rather you become a Buddhist, or Hindu, than to give your life to Christ. It took the gift of desperation to accept Jesus as my Lord and savior.

A pastor suggested a wonderful church in Times Square. I dove right in and signed up for New Believers classes and received water baptism. For the first time in so many years I felt less alone. My new friends understood spiritual warfare. I felt some sense of peace and comfort.

I am here to tell you that, as a man who had no faith, no belief, was condescending, full of conceit, arrogance, sin, pride, and rationalized everything, Jesus changed my life.

Coming to Jesus did not disqualify me from trials and tribulations. Coming to Jesus also didn’t mean all would be smooth sailing. I continued to be tested in the furnace of affliction.

I am now involved in three different ministries at church. Most of my life revolves around church. God has placed a burden on my heart to work with those suffering from mental illness. AA says that my experience can help benefit others. I want to give back what was so freely given to me.

“Lord, make me an instrument of Your peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love. Where there is injury, pardon. Where there is discord, harmony. Where there is error, truth. Where there is doubt, faith. Where there is despair, hope. Where there is darkness, light. And where there is sadness, joy.

“O Divine Master, Grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love. For it is in giving that we receive. It is in pardoning that we are pardoned; and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.”— Prayer of St. Francis of Assisi.

Pullout: “He turned to me, and, for some reason, I knew what he was going to say. He said, 'You need something more powerful than AA. You need Jesus.'”

Managing My “Gifts”

Managing My “Gifts”

By Ondina

Self-Acceptance is the Key

At the age of 16, I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety. I was suffering long before being formally diagnosed. In 2014, I was diagnosed as a schizophrenic, which I discovered was the answer to all my questions and problems as a child and young adult. It seems I was always this way. Once this became the reality I could no longer run from, I “freaked out.” I was so tired of being a statistic that I tried to deny that I have a mental illness even though it was obvious. I even learned there is a direct line that connects my family background to mental instability. I guess I caught the recessive trait.

I am my mother's namesake, Ondina Hawthorne, and I carry her name with honor now. Ondina Hawthorne was someone I didn’t always identify with. When I started to change my name, I did not realize this was my schizophrenia exposing itself to the masses. I never knew that this wasn’t what the average child goes through. From time to time, my emotional state would fluctuate between very erratic and calm. I would converse with myself and have conversations with what I considered my “imaginary friends.” I suffered physical, verbal, emotional and spiritual abuse, but it was the sexual abuse that introduced me to the more dangerous voices within. There was always the calm one, the gentle one and the thunder. I was scared, I didn’t know how to control what was going on and I didn’t even fully understand what was happening within me. The voices in my head got louder and louder. I felt like I was on fire and I no longer identified with my mirrored self. I attempted suicide many times to stop the burn and to shut off the noise. I thank God He had favor on my life and I am here to share my testimony. I survived.

Fast-forward. After the completion of high school and college, I made very poor choices. Somewhere on my journey, my schizophrenia, depression and anxiety took full control of my life. I was drowning and just wanted to disappear. Dying was my only option according to thunder. I contemplated suicide again. I was 21 years old. I asked God to show me a sign that he was real by asking Him to remove the burden that I was carrying. He did. I didn’t grasp the full understanding that when I was calling on God to help me, I was also asking Him to show me who I really am, what I’m dealing with and how to manage what makes me different from others. Since then I have gotten married to an amazing supportive man and have two wonderful, little, adventurous, vivacious boys. However, there was still much work on my part that needed to be done.

I started to acknowledge that I have a mental illness. I said it aloud to myself. It took me a while to feel comfortable saying it aloud and owning it. I remember telling my husband, “If you no longer want to be with me, I understand, because you didn’t sign up for this.” He replied, “I love you and we are going to get through this.” I revealed to him the names of all the personalities I converse with. I told him that I was institutionalized as a child and had been battling my mental illness for a long time. I explained to him that I needed to be mentally healthy, not just for myself but also for our children. He agreed to help me through my journey toward a sound mind. I opened up to my immediate family members for their support. I never thought that taking the first step to admitting and accepting I have a mental illness was going to be so painful.

My mother told me, “Baby girl, ‘schizophrenia’ is your gift. It is who you are. Don’t try to control it, manage it. Don’t fight against what is, but accept what is. Depression and anxiety will always be there, but once you learn to manage it you will be alright and your story will inspire others to take that leap of faith.” We cried together and I accepted the challenge to start managing my mental illness. I currently sit with a counselor. I pray and I have my medication on standby. I do still feel the burn from time to time, but I am grateful I know how to manage my gifts.

Book Ends: Left of the Dial by Christina Bruni

Book Ends: Left of the Dial by Christina Bruni

Reviewed by Columnist Kurt Sass

Christina Bruni’s book, Left of the Dial, is an uplifting, triumphant account of her ongoing battle with schizophrenia, a battle she is winning every day. I found there to be three main messages in her book: 1) Never give up, no matter who tells you what you can or can not accomplish; 2) Acceptance of an illness is a major component in the battle; and 3) that service to others in life will bring you joy.

The very first thing that struck me about Ms. Bruni’s book is that she pulls no punches and gets directly to the core. No five to ten leading chapters on how I grew up and how grade school was and this and that. The very first sentence, “It happened that night,” within the first chapter of the book we find Ms. Bruni in the psychiatric ward. No pussy-footing around with this memoir.

And no pussy-footing around with Ms. Bruni, either. While still in the hospital, her doctor tells her that she would probably never go to grad school or get into writing again. She also reads in the hospital that only 30% of people with schizophrenia fully recover. Rather than resign herself to the opinions of the “professionals,” she makes a conscious decision “to be determined to be the 30%” and begins to set up goals for herself. Immediately upon her release, she buys a computer (one goal) and was soon writing (another goal).

Shortly after this, Ms. Bruni’s journey takes her to a day treatment program. She is still feeling optimistic about the future until she reads in another “professional journal,” a book titled “Surviving Schizophrenia,” that only 6% of people with schizophrenia go on to obtain full-time jobs. At first she retreats into herself and bows to the pressure, but then summons up the courage to fight the stereotype once again.

Ms. Bruni eventually graduates from the day treatment program into a halfway house, and enrolls in a journalism class. Her hopes are crushed on the first day, however, when one of the requirements are that she keep a journal of news reporter mistakes each night on television, a task she knows will prove impossible, as the halfway house has only one shared television set for all the residents.

There does come a point in which Ms. Bruni believes that once she does in fact find full-time work, she can stop her medication and be drug-free. This day does come as her dreams of becoming the “6%” come true. Unfortunately, even though she tapers off the medication in accordance with her doctors instructions, she suffers a psychotic break and is hospitalized. This break teaches her a valuable lesson, and she comes to the realization that schizophrenia is just one part of who she is. She decides, rather than fight the diagnosis, to work with it.

After accepting her diagnosis, Ms. Bruni continues to flourish. She enrolls in a Masters of Library Science program, finding it a perfect fit. She finds love and loses it when her partner gets an out-of-state career opportunity, but is not crushed. Today Ms. Bruni continues to work full-time as a public service librarian and writer.

It is easy for any mental health consumer who has ever been told by a mental health professional that he or she can’t do something to relate to this book. In 1998, while in my deepest, darkest depression, I was told by a therapist that I would not get much better, and I would just have to learn to deal with it. Today, I celebrated my 10-year anniversary with the non-profit company I work for, so I know, to some extent, what Christina had to go through. I recommend this book very highly for any consumer in the mental health system, or, for that matter, anyone who has ever been told “You can’t do that.” Christina Bruni retorts “Yes you can.”

Life is Good Even with Schizophrenia by Victoria

Life is Good Even with Schizophrenia

By Victoria

The Gift of Lucidity and the Lucidity of Giving

Being adopted is part of my story, as is teenage drug addiction, marrying at 22, and raising three beautiful children. At 38, I received the diagnosis of Schizophrenia. Each of these events have made me who I am today, and I am pretty pleased with who that is.

Problems are just unresolved situations whose solutions await seekers willing to work through them. Through all the difficulties in my life I have been able to overcome each one, at times simultaneously, and other times after many attempts. I find that which works for me in dealing with schizophrenia is no exception.

When I had my first psychotic break, I actually enjoyed it very much. I believed I was very special and that God was giving me messages to give to other people to help save the world. I will never forget how I came to believe very quickly that at last my life had meaning and that I was the most special person to ever live. With this new idea came a huge burden, though, and slowly I deteriorated until I was unable to function as a wife and mother.

It was then that I sought help. I diagnosed myself before being diagnosed by a team of doctors from UCLA. I had all the classic symptoms, though I did not fit the normal age. Thus began my life on anti-psychotics, and how my life began to return to normal. Today, I can honestly say that I do not believe I am the most special person in the world, although I often have to think it through and talk myself out of it, because there is the lingering idea that just maybe….

My psychiatrist believes I do have a very rare form of schizophrenia, in that I am the best judge of my mental status. I know when I begin to become delusional again, and can recognize quickly when a medication is working or not. Many people with schizophrenia do not have this ability. I am glad of this, for it has helped me to achieve many things in my recovery.

My greatest accomplishment is having earned a Master’s degree in psychology in 2012. I very much enjoy my current work in the mental health field with children and families who suffer from mental disorders. In addition, I have raised my three children to be responsible members of society, and have myself been married for 22 years.

Right now, I am having the best time of my life. I love my career, my kids are all doing really well, I have friends and family I enjoy, and I have some hobbies which help me to enjoy life at this new pace. Before being diagnosed with schizophrenia (although later after a severe bout with depression, was fine-tuned to the diagnosis schizoaffective disorder), I had many relational problems and had no motivation to finish things I started.

But now I enjoy many relationships and finish what I start. I recently wrote a book for people who suffer from this disorder and their loved ones. I also have a blog I keep up to date charting my ups and downs and the changes I still go though. My hope is to reach as many people as possible to help them in their recovery from this devastating disorder, which, if left untreated, causes much suffering.

I work very hard to make sure I take care of myself to continue to recover. I take my medication every night, try to exercise, get enough sleep and eat right for the most part. I go to church every week, have a spiritual adviser, pray every day and read uplifting things. I am constantly looking for ways to better myself through introspection and try to give back to my community.

I am not looking for a Nobel Peace Prize or great sainthood like when I was delusional. I am looking to make the most of my life and to improve life for those around me. Yes, life is good and does not have to be stressful. In fact, I hate discord and drama. I still get anxious at times, but deal with it by limiting contact with negative people and surrounding myself with upbeat and positive folk.

What I really wish to express through this essay is that life does not have to end when one gets a debilitating diagnosis. I can be the positive change I wish to see in the world. One way I can do this is by continuing to write and help others at my work. One day at a time, I can live a life worth living, a life that is remarkable because it is unremarkable. No great honors or awards, just a life that makes sense to me, one that I am proud of. I am happy to be me today, diagnosis and all.

To read more about my recovery from Schizophrenia check out my blog:

http://mypersonalrecoveryfromschizophrenia.wordpress.com/

Book Ends: "Eyebrows and Other Fish" by Anthony Scally

Book Ends: Eyebrows and Other Fish by Anthony Scally

Reviewed by Columnist Kurt Sass

“Eyebrows and Other Fish” is a self published book written by a mental health consumer from England. I found the book to be both extremely impressive and interesting.

The impressive parts of the book is what I found to be the amazing insight Mr. Scally has into his schizophrenia, its manifestations and consequences. The truly impressive part is his keen awareness of the full picture even when he is going through the worst of his symptoms, including extreme paranoia and obsessiveness, for example. He is able to identify when he is being paranoid and obsessive, and can relate it in full detail, which I will give a partial example of later.

Mr. Scally also does an excellent job when it comes to defining what he is facing and what he has to deal with when going through an episode. One example is that absolutely everything he reads, hears or sees takes on added significance and he must analyze it backwards, forwards and sideways. Things such as advertisements, license plates and colors all have special, important meanings that must be figured out. It becomes a mission to him.

The interesting parts of the book to me are the details of the thought patterns that go on while Mr. Scally is going through an episode. Just one of the many examples in the book is as follows: His girlfriend’s mother had given him a present of aftershave with the word BOSS on it (I’m assuming Hugo BOSS). This immediately got Mr. Scally to thinking this was a way of the mother letting him know that his girlfriend was sleeping with her boss and that is how he got the crabs he had just contracted a few weeks ago, and that this was her way of warning him about her daughter. Or perhaps, he then thought, the gift was the mother’s way of saying that she was the boss and that she holds all the cards. Then his thoughts raced to the possibility that maybe BOSS stood for something, perhaps “Back Off, She’s Sorry,” or “Brain Operation Soon, Scally.”

This book chronicles Mr. Scally’s life from 1990-2006. During this time he has many good phases and some dark ones, too. As with many people that have psychiatric disabilities, he has stopped taking his medications on numerous occasions, and that is usually when his symptoms started to reoccur.

It would be so easy to condemn Mr. Scally for ceasing to take his medication while they were obviously working, but once again, he does an excellent job in explaining their debilitating side effects. He writes that, in addition to the various side effects he suffered, from muscle stiffness, Parkinsonism, erectile dysfunction, constant dry mouth and sedation, that the medication also “impedes my momentum for life itself.” After reading that, it is very easy to see the struggle of medication vs. side effects.

I did not even get into Mr. Scally’s childhood, which sadly was horrific, nor his support system, which between his girlfriend, social worker and advocacy group is for the most part pretty good. You’ll have to read the book to find out more, which I totally recommend you do.

City Voices New Youtube Channel!

City Voices has a new Youtube Channel! And this is our first video:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y2rYkShllYE

Mental health issues effect everyone, and that includes New Yorkers

Mental health issues effect everyone, and that includes New Yorkers. For example: Latinos living in the US, women, 45+ers, and the unemployed are groups at a higher risk for developing clinical depression or anxiety disorders. But what can be done about this?

I worked in at Columbia Psychiatry/NYSPI as their patient librarian where I procured for our Spanish-speaking patients the best mental health information that was available in English and Spanish, because knowledge is power. I read a lot during my tenure at the patient library, and I wanted to share my knowledge, so I wrote nine books. The books I wrote, I wrote to combat the stigma of mental illness and to educate.

My titles deal with mental health issues and language acquisition. Two of my books received the honor of a recommendation by the APA President Jeffrey Lieberman and internationally known mental health advocate Elyn Saks J.D., PhD.

http://www.amazon.com/author/williamjiang

A-Slam- The Quiet Room, A Powerful Hip-Hop Musical Interpretation of Lori Schiller's Book The Quiet Room

A Schizophrenic Will: A Story of Madness, A Story of Hope

Happiness At Last

By Stefanie Tomasello

Finding a doctor who listens and the right combination of medicines makes all the difference

I’m bi-polar and stumped; I'm stumped today with what I have to share. What does one with bi-polar even say? My story includes the dramatic highs and lows of the illness, as well as the pestering urge to slit my wrists when I am being emotionally abused. I had asked myself: “When does it get good again?” I remember two summers ago at nightfall, sitting by the pool on a ledge, having a cigarette, just plotting my suicide and precisely how I was going to do it. I didn't really want to kill myself, because somewhere deep down, just waiting to get out, was happiness.

As a teenager, I was on Zoloft and anti-anxiety medication, and I held a job throughout my teens and twenties with a vibrant smile on my face. Nothing could hold me back. It was in my late twenties that I noticed that I had I started to become very manic. My moods were up and down and I was crying all the time. My depression and work pressures had taken a toll on me. I was burnt out and I desperately needed the right medication. The doctors put me on all different kinds of medications that didn't work; and the worst part was that none of them listened to a word I had to say. It was very stressful with all the side effects that I experienced from the medications. It was especially hard having my family see this roller coaster of my illness.

My father has schizophrenia and unfortunately went to prison for murder of another family member. I could not deal with this. It was far too much for a girl like me to handle. I received no support concerning the incident, so I had to learn to survive on my own. This was very hard considering the pressures of being bi-polar as well as there being a death in the family. Later on, I went back to my father’s apartment, lit a candle and said a prayer. I needed closure and I think that this was one thing that I could do for my family member. Just thinking about her, I remembered her smile and the way she always laughed, big and loud. It fit her and her laugh made me happy.

I was hospitalized four times for my illness and due to not being on the right medications. Nothing seemed to work for me. A year ago, I was talking about my father with my counselor and it opened a floodgate of emotion. I was in the state of mind in which I believed that any man would hurt me, rape me or kill me. This led to me thinking about my father; I was very paranoid, thinking there was serious harm coming my way. So I went into the hospital and right away the doctors put me on Ativan which worked wonders, because my anxiety had skyrocketed. It had been spiraling out of control, like a enchanted spider web woven of silk thread. I stayed in the hospital for a week and they also put me on Haldol. A new diagnosis was revealed and I was considered to be bi-polar with hints of schizophrenia. I was able to accept this new diagnosis.

I finally found a new doctor who was heaven-sent for me. I have been with her for the past two years and I’m doing beautifully. I told her right away to put me on Zoloft because I was so depressed and the bi-polar medication was not enough. I needed something else; the combination of medications just didn't feel right to me. So the doctor put me on Zoloft and added Seroquel for my highs and lows which worked wonders. I noticed a huge difference. I had been aware of my highs and lows, and by letting my doctor know, the result was no less than a miracle. She upped the Seroquel a bit and I have been more balanced than I have ever been in my life. I was also put on Haldol which I felt in awe of, from the improvements I experienced. It felt like sunset at nightfall, or a like a colorful rainbow on a gloomy, misty and cloudy day. It just works for me. I haven't relapsed yet and I get a shot of Haldol each month now. The only side effect I experience now is tremors but that’s why I take Cogentin.

I recently began receiving social security; but to tell you the truth I love it! I get to do things that I never did in my teens because of working so much. Now I can sit in a cafe with a good cup of coffee and just enjoy reading a novel with the sun streaming in. I’ve never felt this great before in my life! I'm more creative; painting and writing, reading and getting out more. I'm so blessed. See, I knew there was happiness just waiting to get out – I think it was just waiting for the perfect time. At first it was a lot of work, but happiness gets easier and you learn to love being happy, and re-learn how to love yourself and not to feel sad all the time. It’s not perfect but it gets better and you can be happy. I think we all want to be happy. Like I said happiness just waits for the perfect time to come out. I'm happy, one day at a time, and I hope you, too, can be happy one day at a time.

City Voices Author Will Jiang, MLS Presents Autobiography A Schizophrenic Will: A Story of Madness, A Story of Hope at MDSG Oct 9th, 2012

Published Author Battles Schizophrenia

By William Jiang, MLS

New York City Voices helped me along the way

New York City Voices was founded by Ken Steele in 1995, 17 years ago. I was recruited by Dan Frey in early 2000, shortly after Ken died and left Dan at the helm of the newspaper. I shared my own personal story of recovery at that point in 2000 with the paper, and now, in 2012, my personal story of recovery continues.

A lot has happened in my life since then. When Dan recruited me I was fresh out of library school with my Masters, and I was excited to work with a newspaperman. The internship at City Voices was a good idea to get some job experience. Dan got me to work as a grant writer, webmaster, advertising manager, and freelance journalist. I parlayed the City Voices experience into my first career position as an adjunct lecturer at Kingsborough Community College as a librarian. The Kingsborough Community College position led to a seven-year position at the prestigious New York State Psychiatric Institute as the chief librarian of their Patient and Family Library. At New York State Psychiatric Institute I wrote my autobiography titled A Schizophrenic Will: A Story of Madness, A Story of Hope, which, recently, has outsold Sylvia Nasar’s A Beautiful Mind on Amazon.com. I am now in the process of returning to university part-time to study German at Hunter College, and to keep myself busy. I am currently tutoring people who seek further knowledge in Spanish, French, math, Photoshop, video editing, and book design.

However, life has not been an easy, straight road. I continue to struggle with clinical depression, physical aches and pains that I have accumulated over the years, as well as the schizophrenia that I have had since 1992. I was lucky to survive 2011 as I had two hospitalizations in November that involved suicidal ideas and urges. In November I welcomed the institutional halls of Columbia Presbyterian in White Plains because in that hospital was a measure of safety. I was afraid of what I might do to myself if let go without a medication regimen that did not work. After the mood stabilizer lithium failed, I was scared that nothing would work. The doctors were going to try Depakote on me. After an empowering conversation with a mental health therapy aide, I convinced my doctors to try me on Saphris or Fanapt as a mood stabilizer. My doctor put me on Saphris as a mild mood stabilizer, and the good news is that in addition to regular exercise, the Saphris seems to be helping me to stabilize my mood.

Another thing that has helped me, over the years, is my power of insight and my ability to fine-tune my medicines, with my doctor’s ok, to keep me out of the hospital and out of trouble. For some odd reason, when I start losing touch with reality, I sense it happening. I am able to take a little more of my antipsychotic, Navane, when this happens, and by using this technique, I have been able to keep myself out of the hospital for many years. This apparent control I have over my medication and neurochemistry has been a blessing for me because I’ve been able to take less of the antipsychotic than otherwise, and I have had the benefit of less sedation than if I were on a consistently higher dose. I feel that I work as a team player with my psychiatrists in my recovery. The game plan is to stay in therapy and keep an eye on my medication so we can beat the unbeatable opponent that is in my head: the schizophrenia. Although, I have not beaten schizophrenia for over 19 years now, neither has my competitor beaten me, and we continue to play the game. I feel I am playing as a worthy opponent against a formidable diagnosis.

My great regret is that I have had few girlfriends over the years and that none of them have stuck. That is the one thing in life that I feel that I am missing right now: a good girlfriend to share the highs and lows, the good times and the bad, in this drama that is life. I know I’ll meet her someday, and the figurative hearth burns with a steady, warm flame.

In the meantime, I work, I hang out with friends, and I study. I salute New York City Voices for their continued role as the oldest, and largest free newspaper for the people of New York City who suffer from the slings and arrows of mental illness.

Note: The author does not suggest that you manage your own medications as he does unless you talk to your psychiatrist and decide together that it is a safe and practical thing to do. As always, the medical advice of your doctor or your pharmacist should be heeded. To contact Will email fishmonger1972@gmail.com.

Ward Stories

A column organized by Jack M. Freedman, Poetry Editor

This edition of Ward Stories features poetry from a couple of sources.  One of those sources is Ted Wainer.  This poem was written during a hospital stay.  Many of us can relate to the sheer boredom that many experience within the confines of a psychiatric ward.  This in turn inspired me to share one of my own pieces.  This is a piece that outlines my current views on the practices of psychiatry.  I have done a lot of self-discovery and now know that personally, I need alternatives in my life for my own treatment.  With that said, I know there may be a lot of people who will not agree with my statements, but I hope that City Voices will outline a wide variety of views on psychiatry as a whole, so with that, I present one of my poems.  I hope you enjoy this edition of Ward Stories, as well as the rest of the paper.

In These Chains of Boredom

by Ted Wainer

To aire, to reap, to sow , to sleep

To sleep within the air so fine.

To leap, to lash between the sheets

To hate the air that glistens through.

Yes glistening through yet not touching it.

Healing hands yet a smile without grace.

Without the grace to heal the hurt

within.

Without the power of empathy to go that last stand.

Yes boredom resides here big time, you know.

And yes Thomas, that’s the way it is.

Today, tomorrow , and possibly in the future it seems.

It leaps, it jumps, it escapes and it hits you.

It kills at times and menaces with the scales

of your mind.

Yet oh those scales so ponder deep.

Pondering deep within the realm of this insane mess.

Yes the insanity keeps me here.

But how sane am I in boredom.

To laugh, to hold, to cajole and to convince.

To try to see the light.

Yes reading away those hours

                         of discontempt.

Holding onto future grains and learning a lot

along the way.

Yes this field of discontempt.

This hallway of horror.

Passing, passing through all this

 nonsense.

As I’m bored , as I sit here writing these passages.

Hoping for salvation, only time heals they say.

I want immediate release, instant gratification.

And so I wait in these chains of boredom.

Prescribe This

by Jack M. Freedman

I'm done with lurking behind

A marmalade bottle

Filled with false miracles

The ties that bind throttle

Therefore it is empirical

To free yourself

From the shackles

And the cackles of doctors

Dictating our treatment

Treating us like children

Kidding us into thinking

The pills we chase with drinking water

Foster recovery.

My discovery

Of myself

Leads me to shelf

All the things I used to know

And let it fall by my feet.

It would defeat me to entreat

Corrupt forces of mind control

Patrolling and enrolling me

Not in the school of hard knocks

But mental cell blocks

With electroshocks forced upon

By pigs carrying glocks.

We want rights without having to demand them

Without day treatment programs

Where brains get programmed like robots,

Reinforcing paranoia

Validating low self-esteem.

We've moved past possessing psyches

Of Phineas,

But can you gauge what the future holds for us?

We've moved past our head structures being analyzed

Past insulin catalyzing seizures

Leisurely knocking us unconscious at will.

The abuse must end

And we must suspend this systemic oppression,

Before all of our rights undergo regression

And receive justice

At the sharp end of the ice pick.
FREUD CAN SUCK THE FAT END OF MY CIGAR!

New York City Voices is Back!

We apologize for the big delay—it’s been at least a year—since we published our last newspaper. There are many reasons why we did not publish. Among them are lack of staff: all of the work falls on the shoulders of one, maybe two people who are also coping with mental health issues; financial problems; and technical difficulties: learning new technologies and coordinating production in a technologically sensible way has always been difficult.

We are back and starting off humbly with a smaller budget and a smaller newspaper. Still, we intend to print on a regular basis while we get our house in order.

Marvin Spieler, Voices’ current general manager, rehired Dan Frey as Editor in Chief. Dan was on hiatus for a while because he had a mental health setback, hospitalizations and so forth. He’s back and in recovery with new wisdom, which is what recovery from relapse can bring to an individual.

Although the economy is having a weak recovery, we hope to raise enough money to continue publication because we know the value of sharing stories and important information within our community. We tried to get information on how our entitlement benefits may be affected considering the status of the economy and the politics in Washington and New York. We all know that mental health is one of the first things to get cut. We plan to continue to seek answers for you and to publish them.

We now have an Internet blog at newyorkcityvoices.blogspot.com and an archive of most of the articles that have ever been published at nycvoices.org. There is a retrospective documentary short that you can see by visiting youtube.com and searching for “videoguynumerouno city voices.”

We are currently seeking a general manager and an advertising director so please write us if you or someone you know would want more information on these positions.

Here’s to a long overdue issue. Thank you for being a loyal reader.

The Eye of the Storm

By Robyn Carrothers

Even tornadoes pass eventually

My life is like a tornado—that strong powerful wind that causes death and destruction. I live in a chaotic situation where my mental illness has taken its toll. It’s a funnel cloud just waiting to touch down and wreak havoc. I just want to be in the eye of the storm.

It was a beautiful day in the city of my mind. I felt the day was peaceful except for the wind. It was a little breezy. Then suddenly, the wind got stronger. “Wow,” said the elderly man. “I never felt wind like this.”

“Sometimes the wind gets stronger than this,” I said

Then the mailman came along. “It’s starting to rain.”

“Ain’t you supposed to be delivering mail?” asked the old man.

My mind was going crazy as the tornado began to swirl. The mailman and the old man began to argue. I’m on the outside with this F3 tornado in my head. It is getting bigger by the minute. Then at that moment came the rain and thunder. I thought I was losing my mind.

The tornado was getting stronger. The old man and the mailman were still arguing in my head. Then it happened. The damage was beginning: depression, seeing and hearing things. This was a F3 tornado.

Then suddenly, there it was: the eye of the tornado, calm and peaceful.

I saw the mailman and the old man. They were calm, no fighting; the serenity of the eye. It was weird that a wind of 200 miles-per-hour had a calm center.

All of a sudden the twister picked up again. The depression came back, along with seeing and hearing things. I grabbed my head. I wanted this tornado to stop. There the wind suddenly stopped. The damage was done: broken relationships, drama and a lot of chaos. The old man and mailman disappeared. Everything was all in my mind, yet I survived. I was able to pick myself up, and go on with life. I looked back and said, “I will be ok.”

Rainbow Heights Club Helped Restore My Soul

By Julie A. Cipolla

It’s important to have a special place to go

8 ½ years ago my life was very different than it is today. I slept 15 to 18 hours a day and saw no one (I live alone and have no family).

I’d been on Social Security Disability for depression and post-traumatic stress disorder for 7 years already. I was not doing anything with my life. I was merely existing in the haze of semi-suicidality so common to people with my diagnosis and family abuse history.

The one bright spot in my life was a monthly group I started and ran for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender (LGBT) people with disabilities, called “Disabilities Who Need Each Other.” The group was held the second Sunday of the month from 2-4 p.m. at the LGBT Center on 13^th Street in New York City.

One day a nice young man attended the group and told us about a club for LGBT folks with mental illness that he worked at as a peer specialist. I was so intrigued by his description of the Club that I decided to go.

I walked into the building at 25 Flatbush Avenue in Brooklyn, saw the sign for Rainbow Heights Club and I went to the 4^th Floor. There I met a smiling young man who introduced himself to me as Christian Huygen the current executive director of the Club.

I was given a tour by the peer specialist who had come to my group that Sunday. I was impressed with what I saw. There was a gorgeous, huge kitchen, a cozy, sunny club room with a huge rainbow flag and couches. There was also a computer room with newly installed Internet access as well as a large art room with a real kiln for firing ceramics. All around the room were pieces of artwork made by club members. “Ah!” I thought, “I am home!” Then there was the day room which I was informed was referred to as the “Gay Room,” by members.

I was handed an application for membership and on it was the following question: “What can you offer the Club?” I was floored! Here I was being asked what I could contribute—I was not to simply be a passive recipient of help from higher-ups who were “wellies.”

So I mentioned my Karate skills (I am a first-degree black belt, acquired before I got sick). I also put down my writing skills, and that I was a good listener.

Then I went to the kitchen where Christian was preparing the 4 o’clock dinner. I was encouraged to participate in preparations, so I put some mild spices into the Black Bean Soup and I felt very happy that I was trusted to add the spices and that my input was wanted.

That day I sat in on a group that was constructing a “Code of Conduct” for the Club. I made some suggestions about the wording which the group adopted into the final version.

Next, I sat in the kitchen and talked with a member who seemed to need a listening ear. We talked for an hour before dinner and resumed the conversation afterwards.

When it was time to leave the Club at the end of the day, I felt so happy because I felt I’d helped somebody and I’d contributed in a meaningful way to the Club. That was on January 28, 2003.

I returned to attend such groups as the Assertiveness Group, where I learned strategies for setting boundaries with people, and expressing my needs. There were (and still are) other groups such as Thoughts and Feelings, Lesbian Group, Art Group, etc.

Eventually, I offered to lead various activity groups at the Rainbow Heights Club and in my 8½ years there, I have variously led the Stitch n Bitch Group, the Writing Group and gave a short course in Karate.

I’ve also served on the Community Advisory Board, I’ve prepared taxes for the Club members, cooked at some of the Club barbecues, and I also took a turn working at Rainbow Heights as a peer specialist, which was very rewarding.

Currently, I’m no longer a peer specialist, but instead I’m a regular member. I’m not leading any groups right now. But I do attend several groups every week, including the Alcohol and Substance Abuse Recovery group because I have an eating disorder which is now in remission.

Today, I no longer sleep 18 hours a day, just 8 or 9. I have a whole host of friends at the Club. We support one another. The staff is outstanding and is very responsive to our needs, whatever they may be at any given moment. Just the other day, before Hurricane Irene blew into town, I asked to sit in the director’s office while the director did some paperwork. Just sitting there with her helped to quell my fears about the impending storm.

Rainbow Heights Club is family to me—it’s my second home. It’s where I go to share all of my tragedies and triumphs. It’s a place where I feel heard and loved and I extend this to the other members—we do this for each other. The staff provides an atmosphere of mutual respect and belonging for us members. And we have a heck of a lot of fun, with Bingo and movie nights, karaoke, birthday parties, open houses and barbecues. We also have outings to such places as the Brooklyn Botanic Gardens.

Yes, my life is radically different and better because I belong to Rainbow Heights Club.

What I Learned From the Psych Out 2011 Conference

By Melissa Farrell

Seeking a new vision for mental health care, I attended the Psych Out 2011 conference at the City University of New York (CUNY)’s Graduate Center in Manhattan on June 21, 2011. The conference was sponsored by the PhD Program in Environmental Psychology at the Graduate School and University Center of CUNY. The main organizer of the conference was Lauren Tenney, along with Dally Sanchez and Eva Dech, and many others.

Robert Whitaker, a journalist, spoke about his monumental book, Anatomy of an Epidemic. Whitaker was critical of modern medication treatments for mental illnesses. Whether you’re for medication or against it or whether you have found some kind of middle ground, Whitaker presented valid data about the subject. Whitaker’s first book on mental illness was Mad In America: Bad Science, Bad Medicine, and the Enduring Mistreatment of the Mentally Ill published in 2001. In it, he presented the history of the mentally ill in this country going back to the nation's beginnings. Whitaker argued that society does not have time for moral treatment. It is much cheaper and more time efficient to use medications even though they are not as effective as we would like to think.

Dr. Philip Sinaikin, through his book, PsychiatryLand provided a raw assessment of the field of psychiatry and recommended that drug therapy be replaced by empathic talk-therapy. He gave us a handout that included the stories of individuals termed “Poor Pete” and “Helpless Bill.” According to Sinaikin, no one tried to get to the root of their problems. Instead they were given medications and sometimes forced to take them against their will. Dr. Sinaikin described PsychiatryLand as a Disney Land, which has been hyped-up as a great place, but in reality is just a hot, overcrowded, noisy and expensive amusement park. Similarly, PsychiatryLand is where millions visit to reap the benefits of a rapidly advancing “brain science” to identify and treat the underlying physical cause of painful emotional conditions. Since we don't know exactly how the brain works, let alone how to fix it, is this not also a case of “image” supplanting “reality?”

I also learned about Soteria House in Alaska, a home-like alternative to hospitalization for people who are newly diagnosed or having their first break. The original Soteria House was created back in the 1970s in California by a psychiatrist named Loren Mosher. He advocated for a home where patients who were suffering from “extreme states” could heal as naturally as possible. The environment was meant to be a safe haven with caring workers who were not trained in the medical model. Research indicated that more patients were able to recover in this model without drugs, though some were not. If a person was not able to recover without drugs, attempts were made to help the person minimize their need for medication. The National Institute for Mental Health (NIMH) eventually withdrew funding for this project possibly because it is cheaper to give someone medication and discharge them then to allow them to heal naturally in this type of setting.

Ann Rider, MSW, CPRP presented and discussed many revolutionary ideas in mental health including the use of “Narrative Therapy.” Narrative Therapy focuses on the stories of people’s lives and is based on the idea that mental health problems arise in social, cultural and political contexts. Each person produces the meaning to their life, so critical for recovery, from the stories that are available in these contexts.

Darby Penney, one of the authors of The Lives They Left Behind: Suitcases From A State Hospital Attic presented a social history of everyday patients in a state hospital and what they went through. It chronicled various individuals’ lives from what their lives were like before and what became of them after being admitted to a state hospital in New York. They were people with careers, ambitions and livelihoods at various points in their lives. These people “fell from grace” as so often happens in the mental health system. I am happy that their stories live on.  

Hopefully, the Psych Out conference will promote the inclusion of alternatives to traditional mental health practice in a realistic and practical way that does more good than harm for patients’ well-being.

Note: Melissa Farrell is an advocate and writer. You can reach her at mfarrell079@aol.com.

Life-Threatening Effects

By Nancy Solomon, Saint Louis University

Mixing supplements, herbs, over-the-counter medications and prescription drugs

People are mixing supplements, herbs and over-the-counter medications and prescription drugs to cure themselves of ills, unaware that they could be making themselves sicker, says George Grossberg, M.D., director of the division of geriatric psychiatry at Saint Louis University.

Dr. Grossberg is about to change all that. He is the co-author of a new book, "The Essential Herb-Drug-Vitamin Interaction Guide," which is a comprehensive listing of what various herbs and supplements do, possible side effects and how they might interact with other medications and foods.

"People think if it doesn't require a prescription, it's got to be safe, and that's not true. There could be life-threatening effects."

Dr. Grossberg first became interested in the topic after a routine six-month visit with a patient he had successfully treated for depression. He had been seeing the patient for four or five years, and asked if the man was dealing with any new health problems.

The patient mentioned that he was scheduled to go in for cystoscopy in a couple weeks because there had been blood in his urine. The procedure involves inserting the pencil-thin tip of a probe through the urethra, up to the bladder to detect the cause of the problem.

The patient had undergone thousands of dollars of MRIs and CAT scans of his lower abdomen and pelvis, which had not revealed the reason for the bleeding, and the test was the next diagnostic step.

Dr. Grossberg asked if the patient had changed anything—perhaps had started taking a new medication.

No new medicine. Then the patient's wife pulled from her purse a vial containing a supplement she had purchased from the health food store to enhance memory. Both husband and wife had started taking the herbal memory enhancer, which largely contained ginkgo biloba

"One of the side effects of ginkgo biloba is an increased risk of bleeding. He had no awareness of this. I told him to stop taking the herb and get rechecked before having cystoscopy. The bleeding stopped, and he didn't need the test."

Dr. Grossberg ticks off other common herbs that people take without realizing their side effects or how they might interact with medications.

St. John's Wort sometimes is taken for anxiety and depression. Those who also are taking antidepressants or anti-anxiety medications, such as Prozac, Zoloft or Paxil, should beware. Mixing St. John's Wort with these medicines can cause serotonin syndrome—with symptoms that may include agitation, rapid heartbeat, flushing and heavy sweating—that may be fatal.

Dong quai, which some women take for menstrual disorders and to ease symptoms of menopause, has been linked to cardiovascular problems, such as irregular heart rhythm and low blood pressure. If a patient takes the herb along with an antihypertensive drug, her blood pressure could plummet, putting her at risk of stroke.

Some people take echinacea, which enhances the immune system, for the common cold. However, those who also take Lipitor, Celebrex and Aleve face an increased risk of liver damage. Echinacea also can be harmful for those who have multiple sclerosis, diabetes, HIV infections or allergies.

Dr. Grossberg and his co-author Barry Fox make it clear that they're not anti-herb or anti-medicine.

"There just are a lot of things people can take that have a lot of bad interactions. And on some level it makes sense for them to think that what they're doing is safe. They associate natural remedies with nature and think if the supplement wasn't safe, they couldn't pick it up without a prescription.

"Hopefully this will get them to think more about it so they look before they leap. People can look up what they're thinking of taking and see if there's efficacy. And they should always talk to their doctor about everything they're taking."

Many doctors don't know much about herbal remedies, which have been used as medications for thousands of years.

"When I trained, there was nothing like this in our medical education," says Dr. Grossberg, who graduated from medical school in 1975. "The younger doctors are more likely to know this than older doctors."

Elderly people, he says, use herbal remedies and don't always tell their doctors and pharmacists. They should.

"A lot of our older patients are buying herbals and botanicals. In addition, while those over 65 represent about 14 percent of the population, they consume 40 percent of over-the-counter medications," he says.

The book, published by Broadway Books, a subsidiary of Random House, is being released in mid-April.

Note: Article adapted by Medical News Today from original press release. Article URL: http://www.medicalnewstoday.com/releases/66399.php. Any medical information published is not intended as a substitute for informed medical advice and you should not take any action before consulting with a health care professional.