Link to Article on Mental Illness and Violence

http://news.yahoo.com/mass-murder-and-mental-illness--the-interplay-of-stigma--culture-and-disease.html

Above is a link to an article I just read. It debates whether people with schizophrenia are more violent than others. I feel that it is a balanced article. I have, however, read contrary evidence that suggests there is no link between schizophrenia and violence. Despite this, the author points out a vital insight: why do people in other countries who have schizophrenia never commit the crimes that our schizophrenics do? Indeed, schizophrenics in other countries have a much better life-time outcome than American schizophrenics. Why? I believe that it is due to stigma and discrimination against the schizophrenics that is a uniquely American phenomenon. If you persecute any group they are more likely to become angry and volatile. It is undeniable that in American society, schizophrenics are viewed and treated as unpredictable, malignant genetic freaks that need to be removed from the general population. Imagine how that must feel to be told you can never have a job, a family, a normal life, happiness in general; imagine that plus the added burden of being treated like a criminal without even having committed a crime!

It is hard knowing that I am hated without cause. It is hard knowing that I am persecuted (and no, that is not a delusion I hold, I really AM persecuted due to my illness). It is hard knowing that I will never be trusted, respected, or loved as I am; genetic abnormality and all. I would not commit a crime, and this is not a justification for those who commit crimes, but it is something to think about the next time you see a schizophrenic walking in the street and talking to himself.

It is difficult in times of crisis to think clearly about problems. Emotions and the need for vengeance get in the way. Yet, in these times, we must still adhere to the U.S. constitution. I do. I do not discriminate due to race, religion, age, class, sexual orientation, gender, or mental/physical disability. I sincerely hope you will follow the teaching of the constitution as well.

Thank you for reading.

1% of Psychotics Are Violent, I am the 99%

I always hate seeing violence in the news, especially this new massacre in Colorado. Every time there is a random act of violence people start labeling them "psycho," "insane," and lumping all of us law abiding mental cases in with the violent maniacs that take their angst out on innocent people.

It occurred to me that I should quote from a book written by a world renowned criminal profiler. Dr. Hickey has studied serial murderers, mass murderers, sexual deviants, and criminals in general for decades. He has published numerous textbooks on the subjects, including this one, "Serial Murderers and Their Victims," fifth ed., published in 2010. Here is a quote from that textbook:

"...[Souza in 2002] found that although mass murderers will most likely have a history of both childhood trauma and violent behavior, most do not have any significant history of institutionalization (Hickey, p. 59, 2010)."
        ---So, essentially, the bulk of mass murderers have never seen the inside of a psych ward. They appear to be normal, unlike the majority of schizophrenics, who stand out like a sore thumb in society and are constantly admitted into psychiatric facilities for behavioral modification, medication, and confinement.

Later on, the book states, "Henn, Herjanic, and Vanderpearl (1976) examined the psychiatric assessments of nearly 2,000 persons arrested for homicide between 1964 and 1973 and noted that only 1% were considered to be psychotic (Hickey, p. 62, 2010)."

This is not anecdotal stories that I just made up. This is genuine research conducted by PhD's who are at the top of their fields. Maybe this criminal is insane, if so, he is that 1% of mentally ill people who perpetrate crimes. Please do not take your anger out on the law abiding 99%!!

For those of you who do not know this, there is a state mandate that says if you have ever been put on a "5150" hold, meaning that you are judged to be a threat to yourself or to others or you are incapable of caring for yourself, you are prohibited from possessing or purchasing a fire arm for at least five years! The most chronic cases, those of us who are repeat mental patients in psych wards, are fairly likely to NEVER own a hand gun, due to the fact that every couple of years we are hospitalized.

Let us not forget that the bulk of crimes are committed by sociopaths. Sociopathy is a personality disorder, not a neuro-chemical imbalance that is inherited from one's genetics. Sociopaths are cunning, deceitful, sane, and organized (usually organized, there are some that are classified as "disorganized"). Schizophrenics are totally scatterbrained, bewildered, frightened, and busy with their internal worlds of make believe voices and visions.

Just like race, please do not discriminate due to mental disability. We are not gun wielding maniacs. We fear the gun wielding maniacs as much as the next person, even more so, because the after math affects how everyone treats mental patients, which often involves indirect victimization of innocent schizophrenics.

I  urge you to follow the laws set forth by the constitution. I vow to follow the constitution. Please do not violate the constitution.

My sympathies are with the victims of the Colorado massacre. I am glad they apprehended the person responsible. I await his day in court with the rest of the nation.

Thank you for reading. Please have a good day!

On Summer Romance

I have not been blogging as much as I would like because I have been sitting by the phone like a puppy-eyed virgin waiting for this new guy to text me.

I went into this new romance knowing it was going to be a very temporary situation. Next month I enter the graduate program and all my classes are scheduled for the evenings. Evenings are the only time he is free from work.

He is not particularly serious about me either. I can respect that he was honest to me about the fact that he does not want a commitment. We are both setting boundaries that state we have to be honest if we are dating somebody else, but there is no rule that says we cannot date somebody else; we just have to admit to it. I would honestly prefer a monogamous relationship that lasts one month and then we go our separate ways. He would prefer a casual dating scenario that lasts indefinitely.

I guess we will see what happens. I am the clingy type. Yes, I know it is not healthy. I never had a father so my model for male-female attachment is screwy. I am always afraid of being abandoned. I place too much emphasis on monogamous sex being the center piece of a serious relationship. I am a little obsessed with the sex. I feel empty and anxious if I have not had sex with my significant other in a day. I need constant re-affirmation of his desire for me. I do not particularly care if he likes me as a person, but it is vital that he physically yearns for my body, and only my body.

I have taken great care to work on the part of me that grew up in a dysfunctional extended family situation. Still, I have attachment anxiety from early loss in my childhood. I have never even had a relationship that lasted more than a year. Either I pick a guy who is a total jerk or else I wind up running away because I made a mountain out of a mole-hill.

Alas, I, as a human, am doomed to this vicious cycle of love and heart break. This guy does not want a relationship so I must not bond too deeply with him. I must keep him in the periphery of my life so that he does not hurt me too deeply. Maybe one day I will meet a man or woman who will see every part of my soul and body and will still want to be with me every day for a long time.

I have put out to the world that I am bisexual. I would honestly prefer to have a female because I am so attracted to their bodies and their attitudes about life and love. I have not yet been asked out by a woman. Sometimes I see a woman with another woman and I wonder how they ever opened up to each other about wanting a lesbian relationship.

This guy does not know I am bi. I have decided not to tell, ever since the last guy decided because I am attracted to women that I would consent to a threesome with him and some random woman. I do not like having my sexuality manipulated. It is there, but it is not something that can be folded like origami in somebody else's hands. Maybe one day, I will meet an open-minded lady who is open and extroverted.

I still want to know how women know other women are available. I am either totally unattractive to only one gender (women) or I miss all the signs. :(  For the record, I get told a lot that I am "pretty" and "cute" and have "big boobs" by people who see my profile picture on myspace, so it is likely not a physical deformity but rather an attitude issue I have or something, I dunno. Okay, I am done psycho-analyzing myself. Feel free to psycho-analyze me in the comments! Just please be tactful! :)

33 Band, 41 Bust: Or How I Lost My Boobs

Last year I was around 170 pounds with a bust measurement of 35 beneath the bust and 44 around the bust. I hated my weight but I loved the fullness of my breasts. 44 just sounded so nice, like boobs that shot out into outer-space.

I did the periodic check on my body. I lost quite a bit of weight. Today I weighed 159 pounds, but what surprised me was my bust measurements. I lost weight---everywhere! From a 36 inch measurement beneath my bust I went down to a 33 inch measurement. Worse, I went from a 44 inch bust line to a 41 inch bust line. I checked three times, yes, 41 inches when pulled tightly across my bust. Where did the remaining 3 inches go?

Many women complain about the size of their breasts being unsatisfactory. They are self-conscious about their breast size. Or else they complain about back pain. I do get back pain, sore breasts, and that self-conscious posture where the shoulders are hunched. Yet I liked my breast size. More importantly, I had spent a few hundred dollars finding bras that fit my size (my size used to be a 36FF in UK sizes). Now what do I do? I have hundreds of dollars worth of bras that don't fit properly! They are suddenly too wide in the band, causing back pain, and those dreaded wrinkles in the cups have appeared, indicating I need to go down a cup size.

This is very awkward for me. My weight goes up, my weight goes down, my boobs engorge, my boobs shrink. Now, I not only have to purchase another two hundred dollars of bras (with which I can buy all of four bras since each costs minimum fifty bucks), but I have to go change all my facebook and myspace pictures to show the lighter, flatter me.

I am getting financial aid in August when I enter a Master's program. Likely, I will have to spend quite a number of Benjamins to find new bras that are flattering, lifting, tight in the band, and comfortable in the cup. I will go to Nordstroms and get properly fitted, since I am really tired of playing the guessing game with expensive bras. I will likely be a 34FF or a 34F instead of the 34G that just barely fits me right now.

Men are lucky. They buy boxers or briefs and they never have to get their goods fitted in order to buy the right pair of briefs. Women, on the other hand, are a custom fit. That would be fine if being a custom order didn't cost so much money!

On the up side, despite losing 3 inches, I also lost weight which makes me look bustier in some weird circus mirror way. Just the other day I was at a store when some man said something to me about my breasts. While this comment was unwanted and made me uncomfortable, it did show me that my boobs have not entirely disappeared off the face of the planet, for better or for worse.

Thanks for reading! :)

Skizzie Lizzie Prepares for Grad Program

In between blogging, checking my emails, chatting via myspace and yahoo messenger, I am mentally preparing myself to go to graduate school at a state university. For most, this would be a task in and of itself, but for someone who has paranoid schizophrenia this can be quite a challenge on top of a challenge.

I have to make sure I comply with treatment. I have to let my case worker keep tabs on me by dropping by and chatting about my ups and downs and future goals. I have to make all my therapy appointments. I have to take all medications as prescribed and show up periodically to let the doctor poke at my mind for 20 minutes.

Sanity comes in three medications, refilled only three times before I have to return to the doctor. I feel like Cinderella: I must return before midnight or my ride turns into a pumpkin and my mind turns nuts. I must think of it as just a routine, like paying my cell phone bill or internet bill. Keeping up with treatment is just another obligation. Or so I would like to think.

While everyone else is preparing for qualifying exams and their thesis, I am preparing for random spurts of paranoid delusions spurred on by episodes of mania. So it goes...(as Kurt Vonnegut Jr., the great modern American writer wrote...so it goes).

My therapist congratulated me for graduating from university. She said the percentage of people diagnosed with schizophrenia who go on to get a Bachelor's degree from an accredited university is rather meager. On the one hand, I know this, on the other hand, I want to be more normal than normal. I want to exude normalcy from my pores so that everyone thinks, "how can she be so composed and clear headed?" I want to achieve what a normal person achieves. I want education, I want employment, I want success, I want to change people's lives for the better!

I hope that one day there is a paranoid schizophrenic surfing the internet, debating whether s/he should even bother with enrolling at university---then accidentally clicks on this blog and reads this little entry. Then, s/he will say, "if this person can do it, of course I can do it, too!" That would make me thrilled! If you are that person, I wish you the best! Hang in there, little kitty!

Thank you for reading, and please be gentle with me! I am like a fragile dish that cannot be put in the dishwasher. :/

Why I Must Be Anonymous Here

The most obvious reason is that I divulge personal information regarding my past and my medical records. Medical records are confidential. I would never divulge my medical records to anyone because people are very prejudiced against schizophrenics. I would hate to have the loving members of my family suffer because I started a blog. This blog is meant as a vehicle for understanding. By sharing my personality, my writing, and my experiences (some of which are painful), I hope to reach out to others. I believe that reading about my life can help you understand the struggles faced by the mentally ill, even if you yourself are not a person with a diagnosis.

Also, I like to remain anonymous so I can have some privacy, which is a right granted by the constitution. Because of some of my traits (mentally ill, bisexual, minority, overweight), this leaves me vulnerable to cyberbullies and bigots. I am not really looking for notoriety by blogging. I like to write. I like to communicate my life lessons to others. I am shy. So, I chose to blog anonymously.

Lastly, I am anonymous because I need to compartamentalize my life into little rooms that are separate. So, here I am Electra. In my student life, I am student ___. At home, I am daughter ____. I am also a poet, published only once, and there, I was another alias. Dividing myself up into different personas lets me protect one area of my life from another.

I got used to being anonymous when I was recovering from an episode of schizophrenia several years ago. I was in an art therapy class. The leader of the class asked me to sign my artwork so she could put it on the wall. I was paranoid, nervous, and ashamed to be a mental patient. So I signed it under an alias. Ever since then, I have been hiding behind artistic names. Well, many artists find the need to change their names, or write under a pseudonym.

Anyways, I just wanted to explain why I have to remain anonymous. It is not because I am a con artist. I am just too exposed and I have too much to lose.

Thank you for reading!

Sugar Cookie As Symbol of my Recovery

It was two years ago, maybe even longer. The staff on the psychiatric unit were doling out my favorite snack: two soft, sugar cookies with white frosting and little colored sprinkles on top. These cookies were treats on the psych ward. We got some only at intervals, sometimes at lunch time, sometimes at snack time, never on a regular basis.

I liked to wrap my cookies in a napkin and smuggle them out of the cafeteria for later consumption. Often, I would lie awake listening to the never-ending noise in my head and reach over for one of the little cookies which I stock-piled in the dresser beside my assigned bed. They were a comfort food on the ward--sugary, fattening, sweet.

Later on, I would abhor the sight of those cookies. Once I was outside and no longer an in-patient, I was vehemently opposed to eating that specific type of cookie. One time, my mother brought home those soft, sugar cookies from her workplace. I took one look at the two cookies she generously offered me and my stomach churned. It was THAT cookie---that exact brand of cookie. I shook my head and refused it. It was not because I was trying to lose weight and avoid sugar (which I was, but one cookie would have been okay). It was because that cookie represented confinement. It represented a locked ward and horrible memories. It represented my illness.

 For two years now, I have avoided those cookies. They seem to be everywhere, at Save Mart, Target, Food Co., they are stocked in every major grocery store! I would shop for food and sigh as I passed the bakery. There, amongst the brownies and tiramisu cakes, that specific type of sugar cookie with the white frosting and the sprinkles. Those cookies haunted me for two years. Like decaf coffee, they are two fixtures in the psychiatric hospital that I can depend on to be there each time I am involuntary hospitalized.

This last week I turned it all around. I was approved for graduation from my University on July 3rd. My degree will be posted on August 10th. My admission into the graduate program was cemented. It was a great feeling. After 1 year at the University I had achieved my goal of obtaining my Bachelor's degree from an accredited University. I had gone from being a chronic hospital basket-case, in and out of psychiatric facilities and community college classes, to a full-time University student with no major psychiatric relapses. I decided to celebrate....I bought the sugar cookies with the white frosting and the little sprinkles on top. I took them home. I sat them on the tabletop and opened up the little plastic container. My mother came in and I told her the story of the sugar cookies.
"So why did you buy them?"
"Because I want to taste them. They taste like victory now. I want to taste them as a graduate student not as a mental patient. From this point, the cookies are symbols of my recovery." She smiled, I chewed. The cookie tasted delicious. :)

My Bathroom Scale Sneaked into my Bedroom

My bathroom scale sneaked into my bedroom this month. It now sits in front of my reading chair, like a bizarre ottoman. Sometimes I even rest my feet on it while I read this spy thriller, "At Risk." In order to get to my reading chair I have to step over the scale. Usually, I wind up sitting on my chair, thinking about my weight. I could take about how  weight is another corset for modern women, or how people discriminate against people who are overweight but I will not (at least not right now).

Right now, I would like to devote a little entry to the topic of why I want to lose weight. I want to look like Marilyn Monroe. End of blog, lol.

I still remember that day in the psychiatric facility, three years ago and 25 pounds ago. My social worker was telling me about my axis. Axis 1 is like one diagnosis, Axis 2 is another diagnosis. In medical jargon, it is essentially "things that are horribly wrong with you in a tidy little list." My axis said I was schizo-affective. Then, horribly, he said my other axis was clinical obesity. I knew I was overweight. I was about 184 pounds and only 5 feet, 2 inches, but obese? I thought obese was for women who could only wear mumus and whose arms were the width of my thighs. I know better know, but back then it was a terrible shock. Not only was I crazy, I was fat as well.

Two to three years later I am still schizo-affective. However, I am only clinically overweight now and not obese. I have lost 25 pounds since that initial diagnosis. My weight yesterday was 159 pounds, down from 184, which was not even the "peak" of my weight (my first semester of University I packed on pounds during finals week). I can never go back to not exercising for a minimum of 20 minutes daily, plus one hour walks, or I will gain everything back. I can also never return to eating 2,000 calories or more a day, ever. My body adjusted to getting 1800, then 1600, now 1300 calories a day. To shove in 2,000 calories would probably lead to significant amounts of weight gain. I will just get used to limiting my caloric intake. Cut fast food consumption. Cut what fast food I do eat into halves and eat only half. My staples are no longer home-cooked chicken and sandwiches. Now, my main staples are sauteed zucchini, cucumber sprayed with olive oil and flavored with Splenda packets, plain yogurt with Splenda packets, boiled and sauteed cauliflower with cumin, cayenne, and coriander spices, cereal, oatmeal, and tomato with roasted bell pepper and cheese sandwiches. When I eat fast food I either make sure I have had less than 2,000 calories for the day, or I feel really guilty and decrease my calories for the following day.

Maybe you can tell, I have not eaten breakfast yet, which is why I am rambling on about food. I am planning on having half a packet of instant oatmeal. Only half a packet because I will be baby-sitting my elderly grandmother for half of today, which means no taking hour long walks and doing morning exercise on my stationary bike. Maybe for a snack, a peach. Then for another snack, red-leaf chard lettuce mixed with mandarin oranges and a low calorie spritzer. Then lunch....dreading having to choose something for lunch. Then, a cucumber with olive oil and splenda. I like splenda on my cucumber because it makes the cucumber taste like fruit.

My goal for this summer is to lose 20 pounds. I will likely only lose 5 pounds, but whatever, at least I set a goal for myself. So if you ever stop by this little blog and see like four entries in a row of random meals, listed like some kind of restaurant menu, that is because I am concentrating my energy on losing more weight. 159 is less than 184, but not by that much. I want to reach 139 pounds. No wait, I will reach 139 pounds.