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Recovery?
Posted by Ang
24th May 2011

Recovery?

I am 44 and have spent the vast majority of my life trying to make sense of the horrors that occurred in my life. It is only now that I have found a kind of peace. I live with father and we both look after my mother . I do this because it is the right thing to do because in my life I have been aided by many. People have come into my life even for a minute an hour yet they have shown me such compassion that in return I try and aid others. This is not some new age nonsense about the power of positivity bringing good people to you, I was screwed when they turned up, it was pure chaos. These people that I meet are to give me a helping hand for a while I also meet a lot of horrid folks but as I have gotten older I can deal with them better. .

Thanks to reading Spare Rib and Cosmo when it was good and other feminist literature while young I never blamed myself and saw pathological behaviour in a wider context. In fact I have never had low self esteem. Donít get me wrong its not any new age crap reason, its just that I was scarily articulate about my issues due to feminism and there were a lot of brilliant women at that time who said a lot of nice helpful things to me unfortunately they were merely brief interludes but enough to help to choose the right men to associate with, to be strong, that love is a construct and showed me I had rights over my body. Feminism however at that time did not explain that there was actually no sisterhood for me to join ever. At present I still class myself as a Feminist although i have never met another one this century.

My days are filled with looking after my mother in particular who has dementia, we have the most amazing nonsense chats, having comedy with nurses and carers who visit, having comedy with my brother and father, listening to my dads messed up scary but comedic stories from the 40ís and 50ís listening to music, Iíve got spotify, burning incense which I make, essential oils, flinging kettle bells around, punching my punch bag and cooking which I adore, talking and having comedy my sister in law on messenger, reading esoteric books and reading all the papers and forums that I like on the internet, television programmes high and low art, but looking mainly for comedy. Everything for comedy. And not that scary i'm actually dying behind my eyes comedy feeling

Part of recovery is social connectedness and having the support of ones family. I was lucky, when I had schizophrenia for 1 or 2 years and recovered, I was able to go on holiday and be looked after by my beloved brother and his wife. Even when in the mental home after being sectioned (long story) I was met with much kindness, this time all the men were soft boys and the women were marvellous it was like boarding school. This time I needed to keep my head down, the psychiatric nurses were brilliant and the male shrinks were dicks as usual. Occasionally you would get a good male shrink but you only ever saw him once because they would sack him for being good. Social connectedness does not really work for me I am very left wing and non bigoted so thatís a whole raft of people I would not like to be around. Even though I am working class I like too many so called middle class things like the arts, I blame reading The Guardian, BBC2 and Channel 4, CSE drama, O level English literature, amongst others, thanks to the internet I can find people that are similar to me. And that is the crux of the matter there are many people who have similar issues to me granted a lot of them end up mashed.

I am text book unfortunately, had I known that I would never have found a decent job ever I would not have bothered yet I persisted and it was the trigger to my schizophrenia when finding a job in a factory like atmosphere I was treated badly and so damaged that I could not find another job. I yearned too for social mobility, that I aided my younger brothers with. I wanted to go from the place of my birth and the people to have a flat and live on my own, to move to London to go to the bloody theatre, to watch obscure art house movies, to be part of an Algonquin like club - this was never going to happen.

One of the problems with devoting ones life to I suppose healing is in some ways I believe I have a wasted life. I mourn the fact that I will never move away, that I will only ever be able to get menial jobs, that I cannot have a relationship, that I will never meet anyone working class who likes opera (this is the fault of a programme I watched about opera when I was young), that everything has to be so goddam deep, that no one is fake with me like Iím some kind of father confessor that everyone has to tell their scary crap to.

Just kidding I adore peopleís scary crap.

Thanks for reading

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