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Living with Schizophrenia

Sometimes, I feel I have to either be vigilant about not contracting COVID or be vigilant about my schizoaffective disorder/mental health. I have to be vigilant about both, of course, but this can be a struggle.
I have a slight tear in the meniscus of my left knee, and the whole situation stinks. For weeks, I could barely walk. My knee is getting better now, thanks to physical therapy. Not only is the physical therapy making my knee better--and hence making my schizoaffective disorder better--but the fact that I have to drive somewhere in the snow and ice of a Chicago winter twice a week is chipping away at my fear of driving.
I find it really hard to use positive self-talk to help me through schizoaffective disorder symptoms. I think the reason is that when I try to do so, I feel like I’m “kidding myself.” Somewhere, I picked up the idea that depressed, negative thinking is more realistic than positive thinking. Now that I realize I think that, though, I’m working to change the perspective.
This Christmas, my husband, Tom, is giving me a new Pandora charm bracelet. I’ve been putting charms on the first bracelet he gave me since March of 2012, when I quit smoking. That’s right; this March will mark 10 years since I quit. Here’s how I did it.
For the past six weeks, my left knee has been causing me a lot of pain. The pain is flaring up as I sit to write this. It may have been caused by doing a stretch during an online ballet class--I honestly don’t know what caused it. What I do know is that it hurts a lot, and it’s wreaking havoc on my schizoaffective anxiety and schizoaffective depression.
I used to dread the holidays because of my schizoaffective anxiety. This year, however, I’m looking forward to them. Here’s why.
I’ve told you about how exercise helps with my schizoaffective anxiety, but what I haven’t shared is the fact that my schizoaffective anxiety can make exercise stressful. Here’s why.
This summer, I went to Door County once again with most of my immediate family, including my brother’s new baby. Of course, my schizoaffective disorder came along for the ride. I didn’t have a perfect trip, but I still managed to have a reasonably good time.
I was diagnosed as schizophrenic in 1999 after a psychotic episode at college. My first diagnosis of a serious mental illness markedly changed my sense of fashion, and the changes stuck even with a later reassessment that I was schizoaffective. I have a few ideas as to why.
To celebrate my husband Tom’s birthday last week, we went to the Immersive Van Gogh Exhibit, Chicago, one of several venues of this virtual show. I was afraid my schizoaffective symptoms might get in the way of enjoying the exhibit or even be triggered by all the lighting and music. But the experience turned out to be so beautiful--it brought tears to my eyes. Here’s why.