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Today is a going to be a difficult schizophrenia day. It feels like no matter what we do to try and land on our feet, the Army is throwing us out on our asses.  Still no orders and our move-out date is fast approaching.

My schizophrenic voice is having a field-day with this.  He’s reminding me, screaming at me, that I’m a failure, no good for the Army and am ruining my family.  He’s using all his tools.  He doesn’t just make me hear him, but he makes me feel his emotions and energies.  I can feel him tensing all my muscles and straining my eyes and head.  He knows everything about me and knows my every weakness.

That means I’m going to have to use all my tools too.  We don’t have the luxury of me having a bad day and walling myself away in the room.  We have an apartment to pack up, other moving details and I still must prepare to close out of all the relevant military offices next week.

I began my day with walking my emotional support dog and am following that with writing a blog post.  I’ll be following this with some stretching to try and ease my muscle tension just a little bit.  If my wife is still asleep after that I’ll try and mentally confront my voice.  It never silences him to talk back, but it makes me feel like I’m not powerless.

Then I’ll dive deep into my tasks I need to accomplish.  They feel like a mountain but there will be two of us to summit it.  We’ll put on the most mundane, relaxing music I can get my hands on and take a lot of mental health breaks.  Instead of the steady stream of coffee I’ll try switching to kava tea.

And all along I’ll keep reminding myself that today isn’t the last day and this task isn’t the toughest I’ve conquered.  As always, I’ll have my wife by my side and through open communication, I don’t have to fight alone.  Today is going to be a difficult schizophrenia day, but I’ve survived much worse.

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