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Thirty years ago, people could see that I periodically became psychotic, and they were aware that sometimes I had behavior issues. I was on antipsychotics (which, by the way, I still take to this day). When I had ideas of going off antipsychotics, there were numerous people who would sound the alarm bells and would tell me that I had to keep taking meds. The behavior issues weren't considered a flaw in character because it was clear to people that I had a neurobiological disorder, schizophrenia. Few people attributed a lot of brains and did not see me as the greatest of minds. 

Back then, housing wasn't hard to find. And you could live tolerably on SSDI and/or SSI. Disabled people were not in a quandary, of lack of sufficient income and difficulty being housed, like the one we face today. Instead, the biggest concern was that we comply with doctor's orders and take our medication. I didn't always do this. Thus, people understood I had a disability, needed medication, and probably could not work at a job. 

In modern times, the level of personal freedom is far less than it was. If you want to survive and not be locked up, you must follow the rules. 

Society has become repressive. In the name of protecting people, we are continually subject to the presence of security cameras. You can't relight a cigarette on your front patio at 2 A.M. when you think no one is around, without the cops showing up. You can't get away with looking at people. You can't have a facial expression. What happened to your Botox? Did it wear off? 

Meanwhile, the survivability for mentally ill people in recovery has been decreasing, such that we have a very slender margin in which we can survive. It is miserable when we are uncertain of our future. The medications have not improved in terms of their health effects. The newer medications are probably worse compared to the older ones in terms of creating medical complications. It is not common for a mentally ill person to live to a ripe old age. I only know of one or two mentally ill people who might have made it to seventy. 

I'm in the same boat. And I find that the mental health treatment system doesn't really have the same ideas for me that I have. This has always been so. Success in life is not on the map of mental health organizations. They want success for them, the caregivers. They want to become great, well known, well compensated mental health professionals. 

As it stands, I am not seen as severely mentally ill, but I am guessing that some individuals in charge of the mental health system see me as a nuisance--because I won't keep my mouth shut. 

Without medications, most likely the withdrawal would kill me. If that didn't happen, at the very least, my brain would be wrecked because of the backlash of stopping meds--this in combination with the original psychotic issue that hasn't gone away. 

To their credit, psychiatrists have provided me with the medication I need, to prevent a complete relapse. Beyond that, I don't get much help. I seem to be barking up the wrong tree. The system isn't here to provide a mental health consumer with a stellar career. Their goal is to save taxpayer dollars and at the same time to prevent mentally ill people from being nuisances. There are people whose job it is to supervise the lives of mentally ill people, to make sure that the basic details are met; medication, housing, food--and to keep restrictions in place. 

If we want to be successful, we must achieve this on our own. No one is providing a roadmap for this. Those who know how to do it aren't sharing their hard-fought knowledge. And when we are making progress, difficulties come out of the woodwork. This could be a karmic thing as much as anything else. We do not need to conclude that there is a conspiracy. 

In my writing, my progress has been hampered by thoughts of ulterior agendas or maybe conspiracies. I've come out of this mode of thought. I realize that it is very simple; if the writing isn't good enough, a piece will be rejected. This realization is exceedingly helpful. When you are laboring under a delusion like the one that I described, the work of making the writing up to snuff is hampered. 

I should also realize there is no conspiracy to ruin my life. Some individuals don't like me and would rather see me become defunct. They may wonder why I am not defunct by now. However, I've decided I'd rather not be defunct, and I'd rather keep trying. Wish me luck.