I am having a difficult time, but I will get through it one way or another.
It is hard for anyone when someone close dies. I know my whole family is having a hard time now.
My grandmother had 25 grandchildren. I am the oldest of them all. I knew her a long time - 37 years. It is quite a loss.
I want you to know that I went to the NAMI Bowling Tournament today with my mom, to give the $125 I raised in donations from people like you, and everyone who sent a donation will receive a receipt in the mail. More donations are still being mailed. NAMI is a wonderful organization, and I know good people there who are very kind to me. It was good to see some of them today. While we were there, my mom reminded me that my grandmother, the one who passed away the other day, was once on a bowling league.
As for the delusional thoughts, I'm trying to keep them at bay as best I can. It will be important to do that to get through the next few days.
My grandmother wanted bagpipes at her funeral. She told me so 13 years ago. I told my dad today, so hopefully there will be bagpipes. The day before she died I saw a man in a kilt, like a bagpipe player's outfit, at a gas station. It seemed like a sign. But then, these days, many things seem like signs.
I don't know what I'm going to do about losing my psychiatrist. It's very unfortunate. I am very demoralized that this has to happen right now. I really trusted him and liked him a lot. I don't easily trust people with my deepest secrets. The delusional realm is something that I don't reveal to just anybody or even just any psychiatrist. It was many years before I got properly diagnosed because of all the things I kept to myself. It is hard to trust someone with these things and then find out they're leaving.
I wanted to share with you a poem I found which made me feel comforted. It is below.
Your pain is the breaking of the shell
that encloses your understanding.
Even as the stone of the fruit must break,that its
heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain.
And could you keep your heart in wonder
at the daily miracles of your life, your pain
would not seem less wondrous than your joy;
And you would accept the seasons of your
heart, even as you have always accepted
the seasons that pass over your fields.
And you would watch with serenity
through the winters of your grief.
Much of your pain is self-chosen.
It is the bitter potion by which the
physician within you heals your sick self.
Therefore trust the physician, and drink
his remedy in silence and tranquillity:
For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided
by the tender hand of the Unseen,
And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips,
has been fashioned of the clay which the Potter
has moistened with His own sacred tears.
- Kahlil Gibran