One of my posters had commented about that they were no longer going to read because of the "negativity" of my blog. I think that despite a debilitating mental illness, social anxieties and addiction troubles that I am surprisingly upbeat on this blog. I try to rarely write about the constant effects of my schizophrenia and mentioned this to a friend in an email the other day.
On a positive note (and I am not being glib by saying that), I have become fast friends with my next door neighbor. She has a mental illness, smokes and lives on disability. She went to high school with my mother and father and graduated with them. Her name is Joyce. I am just overjoyed to have a neighbor who "understands."
Earlier yesterday afternoon, Rosa and me were sitting on my porch in the swing when Joyce came outside to speak to me.
"Do your medications make you feel spacey?" she asked, standing in her carport.
"They make me feel like a zombie," I replied.
"I can just sit and stare for hours," Joyce said, cigarette in hand. "It worries me."
"I understand completely," I replied.
"We have to take those medications though," she said. "When I don't, I will be up at 3 AM trimming my shrubbery."
"I will be living in a tent in the woods, homeless, with my friend beer," I replied with a smile.
"We don't want that to happen," Joyce said as she turned and went back inside.
"Looks like you have a new friend," Rosa said.
"Yeah," I said. "I think we are going to be pretty good neighbors."
Hopefully, Joyce will start joining Rosa and me on our daily conversations upon my porch over ample cigarettes, cigars, and sodas. I have been truly blessed with people like her and Rosa finding me in life.