I am the oldest sibling of my family. When I first became mentally ill, I lost all credibility. I was normally a leader in the family but then my brother took over as head of the family. He and my sister ran the show. They looked at me as someone to consider with my best interests in mind. I became the black sheep of the family, a cement brick, something to be swept under the rug. The whole town knew I was schizophrenic. My brother took me on hundreds of skiing, hunting, and fishing trips. For that I was grateful. He was never my guardian. My treatment was between me and my doctors. I took control of it early on. Every time my family got in the act, no matter how well intentioned, it was disastrous. I am independent by nature and handled my care to the best of my ability. My psychiatrist likes it when I play handball, socialize, go to A.A., and write. Anything else is gravy and cost money, skiing, hunting, and fishing included. Those are things I did in my youth. Part of maturing is letting go of the trappings of youth. Handball and writing are the only things that make me happy. The problem with this argument is my God is the outdoors. I leapt at every chance to partake.
Published by Christopher G. Bremicker
Special Forces medic stationed at Ft. Bragg NC from 1968 to 1970. BA English and MBA, both from University of Minnesota. Fisherman, grouse hunter, downhill skier.. Plays handball and reviews theater. Present job at Walgreens in St. Paul MN is forty-sixth job since high school. Hometown is Cable WI. View more posts