Perhaps not finding the love of your life is not the worst thing that can happen to you. Perhaps finding the love of your life and being powerless to reach out to her/him is. This is precisely the predicament of Szs...How to fall in love when you are in free fall.
This was the subject that I and X found ourselves considering the other day. He has found someone that even through the haze of illness he knows is the right one. Ordinarily the answer is easy- go to her- but for X, all SZs and indeed for me when I was more ill, the answer is not at all clear, and there is a paucity of precedent to refer to. What to do when your instincts and emotions clearly tell you that you are in love, at a time that you are training yourself not to trust them? Can you fairly bring someone into your mess? What can you offer? Must the unbalanced be alone?
The following is a letter from X.
If it doesn't move you, check your pulse- you might just be dead:
"'For Her'
I saw her again last weekend. I left with no question that she is the one. Even through the haze, even through the fog, her beauty elicits feeling. I was walking in front of her, she took me by the hand, she pulled me back, and she kissed me. She feels....She feels for me. I ache to have her. In my world of derealization, she is so
real. Last night, after my mind quit racing, I feel asleep, and I dreamt.....I dreamt of a life with her. I woke up this morning and took my Pfeiffer Primer. I was back to my reality.
The act of sex is purely an animalistic art form. Both desire and ability to perform are derived from places outside the realm of the conscious mind; they are derived from one's soul. SZ completely cloaks one's soul, while still letting you know sadistically that it is still there but no longer at your conscious disposal. As a 24yr. Old guy, to have my sexual function separated from my being is completely demoralizing. To know that I could soon make love to my dream, but I will have to turn her away in shame of my own functioning failures is overwhelmingly painful. I could fake everything else and be with her, but sex, for a guy, cannot be "faked." So SZ, once again, has the upper hand, but then again, was that ever the question?
The only real question is do I address my situation with her? Eventually, if I choose to pursue this, I must. But, will I pursue her? I do not long to be a hindrance to her life, to burden her with my pain, with my failing body, with my disease. She is too good for that. Perhaps, she is another man's dream, a man without my
transgressions. A man that could satisfy her needs and support her emotionally. It is so hard knowing that, somewhere, deep inside my soul, I am also that other man....But for know...I am merely X.
X"
X asked what I thought about the situation. I don't know the answer. I know what I did. The following is my, rather lengthy reply.
"X, I went through this. I went through the illness and I fell in love with the girl I want to spend the rest of my life with while I was still unwell. It was hard X, fucking hard. But it was also like a light filtering through clouds, dazzling and sacred. I am happy for you. I read this letter and I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.
Recovery took longer than I ever expected. There were many times in those years that I lost faith that it would ever arrive. In the end, I gave up on hope, and just plugged forward. One day though, I realized that I could live with where I was, even if that life would be hard and not full. It made me furious to be cheated of the breadth and brightness of life, but I could, at least, survive what was going on in my head for a lifetime.
Once I realized I would get better, I put everything on hold. I said: "this job I will work until I am well", and "when I am well I will date lots of people", or "when I am well I will visit so and so" and "when I am well I will write" or "when I am well, I will go out more" or "when I am well I will try drinking again". I just needed to hold on until then. Hold it together a little while longer. I pursued a law career. I bought a house. I held onto my job. I maintained friendships even when I felt terrible. I dutifully attended family events. I felt no joy in any of this. I borrowed against nothing, hoping to repay my debts on what I would have tomorrow. I felt paper thin.
I was in a relationship, even then. I did not love her, but I felt like my instincts were all suspect, so I stayed with her in the same way I worked through law school. It felt reasonable to think that I would want that relationship when I got well. She was a very supportive and strong girl, and I was honest with her about my illness. I asked her to leave if it got too hard. She helped me research. We were long distance, I could not have handled more. Over 1500 miles, I could nurse myself back to health. I did not have to face the reality of my limitations. I could eat alone, sleep long, not confront my utter lack of libido. She stayed, I moved to Boston and lived near her, and in the end I think we really hurt each other. She wanted me to be in love with her, and I was not.
while I was sick, I doubted my instincts. I was terrified that everything that meant something to me would be meaningless when I got well. I tried to think through things, and not trust my feelings. I thought my values, and preferences would change as I got well, that they reflected my illness and not me. But the illness is me. As I recovered, I was delighted to discover that the things that inspired me while sick, the things that intrigued me while ill, the things that I liked...They all grew as I got well.
As soon as I realized this, I realized that that girl was not right for me, and even though she was a good person, I wanted more. I broke things off with her. She said some really unpleasant things about me and my illness. I tried not to let them hurt because it was not the illness that bothered her, it was that I was not in love with her.
I recovered further. Little by little the pieces came back. I had energy and interest. I began to get hungry, like I wanted to upend the cup of life into me and drink deeply so as to fill the void left by those years. I also knew that all the hurt, and the disspoitnement, and the life lived on borrowed time was going to have to be answered. I was afraid of how long I could hold it together. But again...I was still on hold. "Wait, just wait," I told myself, "when you are well, you can move to San Diego, when you are well, you can travel again, when you are well..." Finally, it was time to step back out in the world.
I began with my first love, traveling. I went to CA to renew family relationships, and my friends. I could enjoy their company for the first time in years.
Oh, and there was W. I say W, both because that how I write her name, and I don't know how much she would appreciate begin talked about, but as long as we are talking about a letter....
There was W.
She was someone I met while I was sick. Very sick. Before I began treatment. I went with a friend to a dinner with her and two other girls. My head was ringing so badly I could not see my food, and my hand was crumpled into a fist under the table. But still, through that haze, I remember her like a splash of navy blue twighlight. She shook me then, but I knew that I had nothing in the tanks to pursue her. As you know, it was not even a sexual pursual, it would have been spiritual. If I had had the ability, I would have then and there sought to get close to her. But I knew if I had, I could not have held her.
She and I emailed for years. It was a good thing too. I needed the email in between us. I fell for her. I told myself that I could not trust my instincts, but only be patient and stay in her circle. We grew closer anyway. Soon it was obvious to me, at least, that we were flirting. I was still in the relationship that I mentioned earlier, and I honored that, but if I had been well, I would have trusted that you cannot feel that way about someone else if your relationship is right.
After my relationship ended, I debated moving. I knew if I moved that nothing could ever be between W and I, or would unlikely be, so I stayed. I prayed for my recovery to move quickly. I was getting well. The bad days I could weather. I was putting my life back together. She asked me to Istanbul. I went, and we spent a week together, and everything flowed. I knew something I have never known before and in fact thought I would never know: that it was her. She would be the last woman I would ever date. I told her about my illness, but I told her it was Wilson's disease. She had researched Wilson's disease, and it touched me she cared like that. That she had used her time to get to know how I felt, and what I was going through. Wilson's is actually very similar, and in fact, and that time, it was a possible factor.
She went back to K where she was fulfilling a [] contract, and our relationship went back to email. When she came out in September, I told her that what I had was Schizophrenia. I told her that I loved her. She told me she loved me. I was terrified that I would not have the libido to support physical intimacy with her, but she made my body ring.
For the enxt few months, I made it my business to tell her all. She had to know. I wanted her to know what she was getting into. I did not smooth things over. I told her the worst parts, and I shared with her the limits of my knowledge. I told her I could not know that I would fully recover. I told her that I might always be limited.
I was terrified that she would not be able to bear it all. I had no interest in not being honest and open with her about what was going on though. If she was to love me, she was going to have to love the illness, which was me too. I acknowledged daily that she might love me and leave me still. It was hard. I called her in the middle of suicidal depressions. It was one of the hardest things I have ever done. I knew that that might kill the respect she had for me, or that it might be too much for her. I hate being around people when I am feeling badly, and for years I hid. It would have been so easy to hide it from her. Instead I shared my darkest fears. In some ways, it was brutal to do it that way, but I would do it again that way. I feel like she had to know. I wrote her a 16 page essay on the illness. I sent her my histapenia file. I showed her my blog. When everything in my body said to close up, and to protect myself, and isolate myself, I forced myself to open up and share with her.
I remember nights crying because I thought I would lose her because I could not recover fast enough to keep her. I did reckless things with folic acid to try to speed the process up. You have just done your first reckless thing with folic acid for this girl. She will never fully appreciate what you just did, but I will for her.
As you know, being mentally ill, you get in the habit of not trusting your feelings. You tend to take other people's view points as valid, and subjugate your own. I mean, we are mentally ill right? Who are we to tell people that they have hurt us? I know as I got sick, my emotions got dialed up. I was hyper sensitive. I could read volumes in people's faces, yet the anxiety meant I often misinterpreted it. I guess that is the paranoia right? Taking responsibility for things that are not your fault?
Well, that was not the right thing to do. W knew she was in a relationship with a Sz. She knew that my emotions were out of control, and so was the anxiety. I trusted her to share it, and that I assumed that I had to be stronger than I was. I felt like I needed to swallow the fury that came with illness, and the fever that came with recovery. Yet it was so hard to distinguish things that were actually upsetting from those that were upsetting because I was sick.
It was too soon probably, but X, sometimes it is. What are you going to do. I tried to find a therapist to help me sort these things out, someone who would not say "M is that realistic? Is this about your family?", but rather someone who would say "M, that IS NOT realistic, but that is typical of SZs in recovery. Try to back off of that for a while. Tell her you need space" or "This is typical M, it passes. You just bite your lip and in a month, it will not even be a concern to you." or even "M, that is a very hard thing. You are not getting clear signals right now, but that is something even mentally well people need to deal with over time."
The libido is a concern. No doubt. Women say it doesn't matter, but you and I know it does. Not the sex, but the sexual intestine. The passive sonar of sexuality. Of being a man. It comes back. It will.
[].
Here are some hard things. Getting well does not make everything easy. The libido, it rebounds. It gets out of control. You will be worse than you were at 16. Then it will pass like a storm and you will be back. You need to talk to someone about getting well. Even if they have no background in Sz. Just someone you can talk to about the feelings that come surging up.
You might lose her. You cannot control that too much really. But X, if she is the one, and if you are like me, you will be grateful that she was a part of this. It matters to me so much that W saw this. It is such an important part of my life. She came with me to the PTC last time. If this is the one, you will want her to be there with you on this jounrey.
don't underestimate her. I was constantly amazed by W. The best thing was that I truly believed that if it were too much, she would have walked away and I believed that she was accepting without sugarcoating what I was telling her. If she is the one for you, and you for her, this is part of your journey. Its a little much, maybe, probably not the speech you thought you would be giving in your 20s, but it is what you have, and you can't change that, but you can make choices from here on out.
don't dump it on her all at once. I would say. I will ask W what she thinks I should have done better. I would think, get ot know this girl. Tell her you are sick. Do not use the Sz word right away. Its crude and inaccurate. Tell her about histapenia. Tell her most people recover in 8-12 months. But tell her when it is appropriate. Don't rush into the bedroom with someone you care about before you talk through a little of this. "
Anyway, this is not hard science. Its barely anecdote. These are X's thoughts and my choices and my memories and if they are helpful to you, then they are yours. If you too recovering, you will realize that life starts again pretty quickly, whether you are ready or not, and there are questions that are particular to your situation, and you might need to know that you are not the first person to walk those steps. So take what you will. Decide for yourself if I was right or wrong, or how you will proceed, but I assure you, no matter how awful you feel now, one day soon you will feel normal again. And if you are lucky, you will fall in love.