The one where I get serious and try to lay some shit out.

I think the difficult thing, for me is that I need to talk, or write. I need to get it all out to make any sense of the jumble in my head. Sometimes talking or typing in a void is enough. Sometimes you want to bounce things off of somebody. If you go on line, go on Facebook, where ever, and you look up anxiety and depression support groups, you'll find more than you could possibly participate in. They're out there and they're full of actual human beings, interacting. Talking about their meds and dosages and what helps and how to deal with all sorts of triggers and shit. People reaching out and looking at each other and understanding each other. That's a lovely thing.
     Now you try looking for a schizophrenia support group. There are a few. They have people in them to. I haven't joined them all, or anything. I can't speak for all of them, but man, the ones I have. If people are posting at all, it's some wild shit. It just sort of reminds you how really alone you are in this. That guy posting about the mind control experiments the government is doing on us all... I mean, I won't pretend I can't sympathise. I've felt that way. I've been where every one of my senses can come to no other conclusion. But it just made me aware of how abysmally fucked up I was.  I certainly didn't want to shout about it from the rooftops warning everyone.
     That's not a dig. We've all got our own brain demons to slay. It just reinforces the fact that there is nowhere to say this shit, unless I make a place to say it. No one is going to nod at me and say, "Yeah, that shit is rough. You'll pull through." No one is going to say anything, in fact. What could they say? The beauty of the internet is not having to see how they look at you, with this silent, sad concern. 
     I suppose I haven't said it on this blog yet, that word. Schizophrenia. Isn't it just all big and scary and weird? I bet it makes you think of asylums or homeless people. It does me, and I have it, so, you know. I don't want to be afraid of a word. I mean, I spent years in the thick of it. My every waking moment was full of fear, fear of myself, fear of my brain and what it would make me see/hear/smell/feel next, fear of losing everyone I loved, fear of what would happen to me.  Then things got better, and I lived in fear of it coming back. Fear of being there again. Fear of saying it, that word, and the way people would look at me once they knew. I'm fucking tired of being afraid. Afraid of a fucking word.
     So yeah, I'm schizophrenic. I suffer from anxiety quite often, and depression much less often. I expend a serious amount of brain space and energy gauging my capacity for dealing with things, socializing, even just being around people. Most of the time I do it without thinking. I keep my expectations of myself really low. People probably think I'm a lot of things that I'm not. But it's when I forget to pace myself and let myself off of doing too much that I run into problems, most often.
     Sometimes it's hard to let go of the things that we once enjoyed. Sometimes we think, oh, I'm so different now, LIFE is so different now. Maybe it'll be okay. You know what? Maybe it will, but it isn't worth taking the chance. So maybe, instead, it's time to stop trying to shove it all under the bed and forget about it. Maybe it's time to accept it and own it and then let it go.