Schizoaffective Disorder Out of the Psych Ward Learning to Love
My sister, Diana, left, my brother, Doug, middle, me on the right. Several months after being released from my last hospitalization at Kishwaukie Hospital in DeKalb, Illinois, my sister, brother, and I celebrated Doug’s high school graduation from Roseburg High in Roseburg, Oregon. It was 1976, and it reminded me of how quickly time moves by and how important it is to live everyday to the fullest. As a gift, I brought Doug a table I made out of walnut and pine wood with playing cards shellacked to its base, and blue-glazed clay miniature bowling pins pointing to a miniature clay milk carton in the center of the table. Creativity ruled my heart and my head. My sister and brother were guides to me and my foundation. I learned from them- how to ask for clarity when I was reading into people and situations that weren’t there. If someone gave me a sarcastic look, I needed to tell them that it bothered me, right away, and not hold it in. Since I was sensitive, my reactions to situations, would vary from being very positive to most challenging. They were sometimes frustrating but were a part of being in a relationship. From my sister and brother’s suggestions, I learned to love more and to move on. I kept my creativity, and my love grew as it passed through the dark phases of the moon. Its glow illuminated my heart and well-being. My sister is still with me, she is my confidant. My brother left this sweet earth in 1990, to rest on Sisters Mountain, where he is connecting with his best friend. He was taken by AIDS.