Twelve in Texas

On March 25th, it will be twelve years of madness. I don't remember the feeling of sanity and control the rest of you mostly take for granted. I wish I could be the bearer of good news, but I've seen my doctor recently, and he reiterated my situation to me: There's nothing anyone can do to help me. I can't be on more antipsychotics (I'm probably on too much as it is), and there's no other medication they can give me. I could go with Haldol or Thorazine, but I won't let them put those monsters in me. My recovery began with a medication called Prolixin, a less harmful drug than Thorazine or Haldol. For everyone around me, it was great. I finally shut the hell up, and stopped repeating myself (I have a nasty habit of saying the same thing repeatedly, it's cost me much in life). I didn't complain about my problems, and no one could tell I was crazy. However, the doctors and those who could bear to watch me knew something was wrong; not only did I stop complaining and reapeating myself, I stopped talking altogether. The whole time I was on prolixin was a psychotic blur, and it gave me tardive dyskinesia in my jaw. Tardive dyskinesia in the extreme is often called "the Thorazine shuffle" because in its advanced stages, all the walking you'll do will be a slow, measured shuffle across the hospital's floor. If you've ever been in a hospital, and saw a person chewing his lips and tongue like a camel, and shuffling down the corridor, you've probably seen the Thorazine shuffle. In Canada, where they keep records about it, 8% of hospital beds are taken by schizophrenics; that's more than any other illness.

So where does Texas come into this? I'll be in my favorite state on the 25th, attending a cousin's wedding. I'll try to give an update from there; it should be interesting: March 25th is a special day for me, and often is the time of my worst moments.

I'm going to try to update this blog more frequently. It's recently come to my attention that more people than Patmos actually read this thing, so I won't feel like I'm talking to one friend and a brick wall. If anyone who reads my blog wants to email me or send me an IM, go ahead and do so. I'm not writing this thing just to pad my superego, I'm also looking to share my struggles with friends, acquaintances, and anyone who'll listen.