Crazy

For a bit of a recap, click here to read an account of my battle with suicidal depression and mental illness, and click here to view my impressive list of medications!
_____________________________________________

My name is Sarah and I just might be crazy. I have Schizoaffective Disorder and OCD. I think most people are at least familiar with OCD, although it varies widely in forms and appearances. For example, I know the automatic symptoms that generally come to mind are excessive cleanliness, order, and, well, an obsessive need to count and check things.

But even my experience of the more recognizable OCD is, as mental illnesses go, pretty unpredictable...although, yes, I am a checker! Multiple (and multiple and multiple) times a day I check to see if I locked my front door and my car door, and I check to make sure none of my cats got into my refrigerator, and I check that my multitude of alarms are set correctly. And then for the rest of my day, I think and think and think about if my doors really are locked and no cats somehow got into my fridge, and at night I worry and worry and worry about my alarms until I finally get up to check them all one last time.

But I also experience weird, obsessive thoughts that I can't direct or control. For example, for a while I was consumed by the idea that I had to prove to myself that I hear out of my ears. I would be doing something normal like working or taking Otis for a walk, and suddenly the thought would pop up and I could think of nothing else. I would have to stop what I was doing and plug and unplug my ears, or if I was listening to music, I would crank it until the volume hurt my ears, and only then could I move on to other ideas.

And a few months ago, I began to experience a bizarre compulsion, one that I can't even begin to explain. When I took showers, I got this peculiar desire to put gasoline on my washcloth and rub it into my skin. It wasn't a self-harm gesture, just the disease twisting and contorting my mind.

As for Schizoaffective Disorder, well, if you're unfamiliar with it, it is a BARGAIN of a disease! Two for one. I get both the depression, mania, and mood-swings associated with mood disorders like Bipolar Disorder, combined with the hallucinations and delusional nature that comes with Schizophrenia.

I have been dealing with hallucinations for a very long time. Even way before my suicidal depression, I had "imaginary friends" that were so much more, and they grew more and more powerful and entrancing and demanding. By the time I attempted suicide, the people I saw were as much a part of my life as real people. At the height of it all, I remember one night waking up to see one of my friends standing next to me. She put her hand on my shoulder and actually felt it. The brain is a creepily strange and powerful thing.

As I got older, I saw new things and said goodbye to old ones. When I was a sophomore in high school, I suddenly became manic. It lasted for months. The idea behind mania, of course, is uncontrollable highs and out of control moods and aggression. But what they don't tell you is how exhausting it all is. And with the mania, came more hallucinations- seeing and hearing and in one creepy instance, the feel of a human hand on my side when I was taking a shower.

One evening (morning!) I was up, up, up, and I had gone downstairs to play on the computer and not wake up my dad. It was pretty quiet downstairs, just me and the dogs and cats, Otis fast asleep on my foot. Suddenly, I heard the TV come on in my dad's room (I was directly beneath it). It got louder, and I could hear the voices and the soundtrack, even the cracks of gun shots. I could tell it was a western, probably a John Wayne classic. My dad watches them from time to time. After listening quite a while to the far off murmur of conversation and horse whinnies, I happened to glance at the computer's clock. It was after 3:00 in the morning, wayyyyy too late for my dad to be up. I figured he must have fallen asleep... and then the TV noise got louder. Much louder. Nudging Otey off my foot, I got up and headed upstairs. The closer I got to my dad's room, the more noisy it got. But the actual "Western" movie sounds were fading, and being replaced by the roar of your ears when you try to listen to silence. WHOOOOOOSH. By the time I got up to his room, the movie sounds were all gone... and for good reason, too! The TV was off, and had been all night. I woke my dad up, bothered, and he told me he hadn't watched a Western in months, just sports and the Food Network.

Another instance around the same time was one afternoon when I came downstairs and glimpsed my sister... even though she was really hundreds of miles away, at school!

But this story does get much happier! Namely, when I found my miracle medicine... CLOZARIL!! You see, it took a very long time for me to get on Clozaril, because it's what they consider it an "if all else fails" kind of medication. Clozaril works wonders, but it can be very dangerous.. that's why it comes with unending monthly blood tests. And I certainly fell into the "last option" category!

And just what does it do? you ask. I will let Clozaril tell you in its own words! Directly from the "Patient Education" sheet I get every month with my refill:

"This medication is used to treat certain mental/mood disorders (schizophrenia, schizoaffective disorders). Clozaril is a psychiatric medication (anti-psychotic type) that works by helping to restore the balance of certain natural substances (neurotransmitters) in the brain. Clozaril decreases hallucinations and helps prevent suicide in those who are likely to harm themselves. It helps you to think more clearly and positively about yourself, feel less nervous, and take part in everyday life."

The same awesome doctor who put me on Clozaril also added Fluoxetine for the OCD, and everything got. So. Much. BETTER!! I finally found my miracle and everything was incredible.

And why am I telling you all about this? Well, this year has not been stellar for me, health-wise. Back in February, I was diagnosed with a DVT and Pulmonary Emboli (see the whole story here), which necessitated me being on oxygen 24/7 and basically having the energy of a bump on a log for a few months.

Then cut to about 2 months ago. Slowly, haltingly, unstoppably, I started to notice problems. The OCD checking got out of control. My moods became erratic. And worst of all... I started to hear things. See things. I admit, I made a mistake. I should have told someone right away.. my family and my doctor. But scared and stubborn, I decided to wait it out. I kept hearing whispers all the time, and shadows flashed around my peripheral vision.

The funny thing about my family is, they know things about me sometimes before I know them myself! And they could tell something was wrong. And you know what? As soon as I came clean, I felt about a million times better already. I met with my doctor, who upped my meds considerably, and for about 2 weeks I went to live with my dad. It may sound stupid, me being a 24 year old and going to live with my pop, but there is something to be said for company! Good, solid company that keeps you anchored and safe. Just like texting my sister 24/7 and phone conversations with my mom.

I just want to say, I know not everyone is a fan of meds. Even just looking on Facebook, I know a lot of people think they are unnecessary and only the weak turn to them. Well.. you know what? They sure work for me.

My name is Sarah and I just might be crazy... but it makes me no less of a person. Quite the contrary, really. If you know me well, or even just read my blogs, you've probably seen me share this Abraham Lincoln quote before: "A tendency to melancholy... let it be observed, is a misfortune, not a fault." I definitely feel it is applicable to this, too!

I will tell you something: In the book I am writing, my main character has all the problems I have, and a great deal of the book is figuring out what is real, what is not, what is really important, and how to change your perspective.  Basically in my book, the main character (and the reader!) get to decide how to deal with her problems.. maybe they are not so bad or crippling after all.

"Crazy" is an interesting concept, when you really think about it. Me seeing and hearing things, yeah, that's crazy. But anybody hopped up on caffeine or sugar could be called "crazy." Someone with a strong affinity for something is "crazy."  I call Otis "crazy" all the time, especially when I play with her squeaky toys and she gets all growly and... crazy.

In a weird way I think we associate "crazy" with strength and determination in one way or another, and that's not so bad! I would like to share a quote with you all:

“Do you think I’ve gone round the bend?”
“I’m afraid so. You’re mad, bonkers, completely off your head. But I’ll tell you a secret. All the best people are.”

― Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

My name is Sarah and I just might be crazy... but aren't we all, just a little?

Thanks for reading, guys! I know I have a tendency to overshare, but I just gotta write about it! It makes me feel better.

Sarah

She's Got Style!

My one great vanity is my hair. My hair color, specifically. Has been for years! So when people ask how I would describe my personal style, I struggle to find a term better than "hair-based." Okay, my everyday style could be called, I suppose, "casual". I wear jeans and a black t-shirt just about every single day. As boring as that sounds, the range and scope of my black t-shirts is impressive, and just about every book, movie, and TV show I love is represented. Don't believe me? Just try me!

Frasier? Big Bang Theory? Supernatural? Duh.
Suicide Squad? It may be new, but I'm good at getting t-shirts quickly.
Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter? Who doesn't? Not to mention, I have a couple t-shirts even of the actual Abraham Lincoln.
Lord of the Rings? Bingo, from the trilogy and The Hobbit!
Game of Thrones? You make me laugh!
Harry Potter? Always ;)

Not to mention, a bunch of totally random shirts like a cat wearing Batman's mask, one from the Albuquerque Rattlesnake Museum, an "I love Otis" shirt, and last but not least, this winner:

But... style?

Several years ago, I was at my Grama's house and found this picture, of my Gram's father and his sisters:

Now, THEY had style! And what about the "master of the house" featured in this clipping (also found at my Gram's house, incidentally) from a verrrrry old magazine:

Those were TRUE masters of fashion. And I understand that there are plenty of people around today that are actually clothing gurus.. I used to watch What Not To Wear with my mom all the time!

... I just will never be one. And that bothers me not one iota! I just settle with having awesome hair, fun perfume (I'm obsessed!), cool jewelry and wearing "interesting" makeup (bright green eyeliner and two gold dots at the outer corners of both eyes, thank yew very much!). And I wear my heart not on my sleeve, but on the front of a t-shirt.

That's all the style I need :)

Sarah

Time Wasters!

Today, on my day off, I cleaned a little! I changed the litter boxes and threw out all the trash and I swept up my kitchen floor. Mostly, though, I did my best to organize my books. They are everywhere in my house! Stacked atop and below my bedside table, piled up in the bathroom, crammed into my over-stuffed bookshelves, covering counter tops, mountains practically blocking the view to my television, heaped into a pyramid on my piano, amassed on couches and chairs, and basically encroaching on my personal space. Considering that I both read constantly and aspire to be a writer, you could say that I am both surrounded by them and consumed by them.... and I couldn't care less! In fact, I love it. I once got a fortune cookie that said "Book lovers never go to bed alone", a quote I find quite accurate.

Anyway, in today's skirmish with literature, I came across a fat, worn, paperback Spanish/English (Español-Inglés!) dictionary, and I recognized it immediately. In our senior year of high school, my friend gave it to me, and I made great use of it! My friend and I were both in the same 7th hour class, and we did almost nothing the whole year.. lots of free time! And sure enough, opening the front cover, there are two names-- my friend's, and under hers (strangely in my handwriting)...

JOAQUIN TRAVESURAS!

¡Ai, Jaoquin! Hadn't thought of him in years. Joaquin was my friend's "pen-pal"... me! Over the school year, I wrote my friend probably a dozen letters from Joaquin in Spanish, which I would then translate back into English for her. Defeating the purpose of writing them in Spanish, I know, but I had a blast using the dictionary. I actually learned a fair bit of Spanish that way! But most fun of all was Joaquin. Morally ambiguous at best, he had a very shady and vague history that he occasionally alluded to in his letters... in fact, when choosing his name, I decided on "Travesuras" because in Spanish, it means something like "mischief" or "antics", which I thought fit him pretty well. Joaquin had a brother in prison, and oh, Joaquin missed him! He was pretty family-oriented anyway.. I believe he was 30-something and still lived with his parents. But he was quite interesting and fascinated about life here in the U.S.

Yeah, I know I'm weird. But it was a lot of fun, and I actually still have some of the letters my friend wrote back to Joaquin!


Anyway, that got me started thinking about other somewhat foolish, impractical things I do/have done that people might think are pretty stupid... there's a lot! So many, in fact, that it would take more than one blog. But!

Top of the list would probably be learning fictional languages-- Elvish especially. True, I'm nowhere near as fluent as I used to be, I still remember some... and my love for Elvish is apparent, just by looking around my home:

And, like any obsessed pet owner, I have things I always say to Otis and my cats, and even songs that I sing! Like what, you ask? Well! To this tune:

I wrote a song for Sheldon! My vocal, whiny cat.

Sheldon, Sheldon, you are a handsome cat!
Yes, I said it. What do you think about that?
You are a good-looking kitty-
You are cool and nice and witty!
But by my word, you sound absurd
When you cry like a little brat!


So, maybe writing Joaquin Travesuras letters was a complete and utter waste of time, or maybe it was good fictional writing experience for me. Learning Elvish may have been stupid and pointless, but I love it enough that I will enjoy it for the rest of my life. And singing to my cats? Well, okay, that's kind of embarrassing. But don't tell me you've never sung to your pet!

Aren't the dumb, pointless things you do also some of the funnest?


Happy Labor Day Weekend, guys! Woohoo!

Sarah