Schiz, to you dear sir!

It didn't sink into my thick skull that I was schizophrenic until I got sober.  I always have thought excessive drinking was a mental illness and caused all my paranoia and delusions.  I got a rude awakening when I sobered up.  I realized that all those years I medicated myself with alcohol.  And I medicated to excess to squelch the symptoms of my schizophrenia.  I always thought in the back of my mind that I could quit drinking and go back to a "normal" life.  I was wrong. 

The "busy" brain started first.  I couldn't sit still and constantly paced the floors of my home.  The only way I could watch television was to pace the floors of my den in front of the TV.  I had trouble concentrating on webpages as well, thinking the authors were watching me and the government was keeping tabs on every page I visited.  I would have to go lie down, but I couldn't sleep.  I would lay there as my brain busily concocted weird scenarios and strange thoughts.

I didn't help that I was throwing up my medications completely negating any of the hard work my father was trying to accomplish in coming over every night.  He would wait thirty minutes hoping the pills would dissolve and then I would run into the bathroom and force myself to throw up after he left.  I thought the pills were making me feel bad.  I thought the medications were harming me and my father was trying to control me.

I have felt better than I have in months recently.  I attribute this to my medications.  Now, I take my medications willfully and look forward to that time in the evening when my father or one of his friends comes to give them to me.  I was always a hard headed fool. I always did have to learn lessons the hard way.  It seems I constantly live in some strange fantasy land -- a land where reality rarely visits.  Let's hope I will continue to do well and feel well in the upcoming days.  I have hope, and that is something I haven't had in years.  I am sober.  I am sane for the most part.  Things are looking up in J-ville.