Schizophrenic’s Guide: Mental Health Update…

I, Daniel Trump, am still crazy.

That’s the gist of the mental health update. I have a great family, a few really great friends, a kind therapist, and a smart psychiatrist. I have all the right medications to make my symptoms less invasive. I’m hard at work on my new novel, Siphon’s Wrath, a fantasy novel about cults and brainwashing. I hope to publish it at the beginning of November.

But I’m still crazy. I am still mentally ill, a schizophrenic who is too mentally disabled to work or effectively string together enough thoughts to make it as a writer. I still talk to the voices inside of my head on a regular basis. I can’t stop.

I don’t remember being sane. I don’t remember what it’s like — that feeling of paying attention to the world around me, controlling my thoughts, seeing the world around me, giving people my full attention, and not being distracted all the time.

I do remember what happened when I first got sick — the screaming at nothing, the talking on the phone when no one was on the other line, the driving with broken brakes, the loud music played constantly, the ignoring of everyone and everything around me.

Now I’m writing novels. I publish one every several months. I read books — I’ve read a dozen this year, not nearly enough but more than nothing. Writing every day is a wonderful thing that helps me to feel more alive. Today I wrote 2,000 words towards my novel. I added a scene in which someone has been brainwashed into doing something dramatic. I wanted someone to have been a victim of total programming and show the reality of that.

I still have a mental dialogue in my head. I still have moments when I get distracted.

Tonight I hung out with Finnegan and Richie. We went to Finnegan’s place and role-played a game that is essentially D & D First Edition, only with a few tweaks to the rules. I played a ranger who wasn’t very well defined — a blacksmith, maybe, a ranger, maybe, an elf, certainly, but not a character with a bright and vibrant persona. I needed to create someone more interesting. I bought us dinner — pizza and wings and fries. We hung out and ate lots of food and drank lots of soda and role-played.

As we started to go home I started to lose track of the conversations. I lost myself to the stories, not paying attention to the real-world dialogue around me. I didn’t know what was going on around me. I just had to talk to myself inside my own head, telling the same old stories, never ending, just going over the same problems over and over. I don’t know what to say. The medication doesn’t exist to fully cure what I have, not yet.

We missed the turn to go to my house when Finnegan was driving me home. We missed the turn after the turn to go home. We had to turn around and go back five miles to get to my home. Finnegan had no problems driving, but I should have noticed where we were. I didn’t pay attention to the world around me. I wasn’t paying attention to the world around me.

I guess it goes in waves. I have good days and bad days. I often have days — or weeks — in which I can pay attention to the world around me. Then days happen when I can’t notice anything because the stories in my head are bothering me. I can’t find a pattern. I just have to keep fighting to pay attention to the world around me and live in the real world to the best of my ability. It’s a day to day effort.

Thanks, and take care, friends.