What's So Funny? The Autobiography of a Professional Schizophrenian, Artist, Public Speaker and Singer
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As a self described terminal optimist, Jude has become a successful artist, singer, and public speaker. How she accomplished this when many people with schizophrenia have less success is the subject of her book with many examples of her art work in color.
"Jude’s writing reflects a triumph of the human spirit over the insidious and poorly understood disease of schizophrenia. This book’s major achievement is its power to connect. Our understanding of this illness is transformed as we begin to see people with schizophrenia not as “poor me” people but as people who are bravely confronting and coming to terms with their illness in a society that still desperately lacks insight. This book needs to be required reading for those who genuinely want to make a difference."
“Schizophrenian Judy Mersereau writes with humour, poetic cleverness and lively originality. The book is beautifully illustrated with her art. The telling of her story winds and weaves with elements of joy in her memories. An entertaining read, written with honesty and insight, demonstrates Judy’s example of a full life despite diagnosis. She found ways to cope and give through her music, art and writing.”
From Sandra Yuen MacKay, author of My Schizophrenic Life, winner of the Courage to Come Back Award in British Columbia in 2012 and one of the five Faces of Mental Illness in Canada in 2012
“Jude is a master at using literary tools. Her play on words can cause involuntary outbursts of laughter. But most striking is her use of juxtaposition which jars us into thinking from her perception of the world. Her artwork is original and enigmatic and is showcased throughout.”
Kathy Mochnacki, chair of the board of Home on the Hill Supportive Housing, Richmond Hill, Ontario, Canada
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What's So Funny? The Autobiography of a Professional Schizophrenian, Artist, Public Speaker and Singer - Jude Mersereau
What's So Funny? The Autobiography of a Professional Schizophrenian, Artist, Singer, and Public Speaker
By Jude Mersereau
Copyright 2021 © Jude Mersereau
All rights reserved. The use of any part of this publication
reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic,
mechanical, digital, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior consent of the publisher is an infringement of the copyright law.
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Title: What's so funny? : the autobiography of a professional schizophrenian, artist, public
speaker and singer / by Jude Mersereau.
Other titles: Autobiography of a professional schizophrenian, artist, public speaker and singer
Names: Mersereau, Jude, 1966- author.
Identifiers: Canadiana 20210125330 | ISBN 9781927637371 (softcover)
Subjects: LCSH: Mersereau, Jude, 1966- | LCSH: Schizophrenics—Canada—Biography. | LCSH: Artists—
Canada—Biography. | LCSH: Singers—Canada—Biography. | LCSH: Orators—Canada—Biography. | LCGFT:
Autobiographies.
Classification: LCC RC514 .M47 2021 | DDC 616.89/80092—dc23
Bridgeross Communications
Dundas, Ontario, Canada
ISBN 978-1-927637-37-1
To Georgie, the better half of Jeordy
Familial Interjection/Preface
Welcome to Jude's world. Yes, Jude's. We've known her as Judy, but she prefers her nom de plume here, as on her paintings and on stage as well.
So what's in a name? Lots, especially in the world of mental patients where medical labels play such a part in where you live, the chemistry of what goes into your body, and how the outside world looks at you, how it treats you. Jude calls herself Schizophrenian
, feeling as many do, the sting of the schizophrenic
tag. It could go back to Adam's naming the animals, notably the one he called woman.
We find Jude's womanhood emerging in her story, first in her mad flight from her mother and father, later in the continuing love story with George where they become Jeordy
, and culminating in the arrival, growth and blossoming of their daughter Amanda.
Reading this is not easy. Schizophrenese is a language replete with word-play, puns, neologisms, alliteration, strange associations and tangential flow like Muhammed Ali's boxing to "float like a butterfly, sting like a bee'. No accident that one of the main characters here is the rock star Sting. Fans of the later James Joyce might feel at home with it.. The rest of us will find it hard to follow at first but then - if you can bear with it - find yourself entering that world and then into Jude's life as it unfolds. Never mind that it jerks you back and forth in time. Enjoy the story!
Dr Guy Mersereau MD.
Disclaimer:
Although the general consensus is that people who have Schizophrenia are lagging in word power, commonly called poverty of speech, for some reason I, myself, have no problem in expression in this manner. (Writing) My words are bound to wax cryptic. Typing my personal biography consequently is easy. If it is hard to adjust from hearing my spartan verbal word power, to a written account, which is much more confusing to those expecting simplicity, please press on and hopefully you all can recover from too MUCH information. Good Luck, and enjoy.
"How Beautiful are the feet of
those who bring good news"
Author's Forward
The Life of a Professional Schizophrenian
So I’ve been asked to elaborate on Schizophrenia and those waxing Schizophrenian. Keep in mind that this illness can be worldwide in scope whilst remaining comfy in somebody’s compact personal brain. A city within itself. Those who have been granted this unfortunate citizenship are members of an elite yet most misunderstood club in their cranium. This particular metropolis is uniformly a run-down unkempt ghetto with unseen stagnant thought poverty. Even if a schizophrenian is adept at expression, the echo sounds like poor me
instead of understand me
, and so all is interpreted as a climate of destitution. We just cannot win. Common belief concludes that we barely are able to scrape two thoughts together, and if we can...we are rendered delusional.
So what keeps us going? In one simple statement, we exist
. It’s more akin to starting out by saying I AM
and then immediately shuddering with the stark conclusion I am SCHIZOPHRENIAN
Pretty bleak. A lifetime of poverty: poverty monetarily, poverty of diet, poverty of living arrangements, abundance of rejection, poverty of thought and conversation, regulated supplies of cigarettes (up to 90% of us smoke) But in our hearts there is soaring of the mind with stubborn rejection of this outer world’s down pressing of the disabled.
We Dream Big
We dream big. And since this wry condition cannot be pried away without medication, psychotherapy, and familial intervention, for example, since it cannot return to a happier past and still calmly reject the hopes permanently left behind, Schizophrenian becomes an elephant in the room. But there is hope for the burgeoning Schizophrenian. It does take something with the force of another elephant to clear the room of its elephant in the room(get it?) The problem is that all too often the second elephant is more resistant to vacate than the first. And so on. Perpetual perception problems. The elephant-filled room.
And what is this room?
It is a box where we exist. It is usually closed to the public until one of us citizens discovers a secret ceiling and escapes upwards for a time. When those guarding the box see this freed clown
happy and bouncy, they frantically stifle and smother said clown down into the box. Again. Then, their particular job resumes, mindlessly cranking through life like a mass-lever round and redundantly round expecting no surprises. Alas.
Another nut gets out.
Okay. That actually is a Jack-in-the-box memory from my childhood.
Jack OUTSIDE the Box
Here is the precise allusion. Many of us earthlings can relate to this world as containing three worlds
.
The first...that’s the number-one best... is specially for the rich, overdeveloped, overweight countries
Although some patriots are not habitually fat during their daily skinny-money marathons.
The second world, sadly enslaved by chaotic hellish communism is poor but maintains the capacity to incinerate the entire planet several times over.
The third: world music, lots of love, and no money at all in their perpetual paradise. Yay
But wait—could it be??? A fourth world? A fourth one not made up of psychiatric patients, but maybe revering them in a way. You see, the Indigenous people worldwide: the first nations...and therefore the last, hold ownership of an invisible clime, unseen by those blinded by self. No wonder it is considered magical. Anyway, these natives hold mental types as harbingers of danger, sentinels to the wind’s whispers, and special with their unique gifts, even more completely unseen by other money chasers or nuclear bomb happy power mongers. But maybe observed by chance by those poor enough to relate in that third world aforementioned as poor.
And so...the Schizophrenian seen in greater accuracy by first nation ones, do really have a place to thrive and therefore are citizens by right on this orb called earth. Care to vacation in our land?
Jude.
Second World Girls
Indigenous Forest
Introduction
It takes a lot to pen a schizophrenian autobiography. Alone. Seems that the same bizarre thought patterns cannot be translated by the affected mind’s mouth. What I mean is that I understand as an individual what the outside world cannot possibly anticipate or be prepared for. Like Amadeus Mozart, there are too many notes. Mine being mental notes. Mine being cloaked in my skull. So I take this risk of absolutely remaining an enigma.
It is hard to put words to symbolic events that have changed my life towards illness, it is difficult to itemize the progressive trend to insanity, it is frustrating to re-learn how to connect verbally with people who have no inkling of understanding of what I have been through, and am going through and especially to clue in to where I am taking them to: with my pen.
To disclose ideas that took years to arrive at, to release fears that have such potential energy to me alone, but could only provide a chuckle to those who think that they know any better...it is hard. In a way, by writing this book, I am saying goodbye to inaccurate thoughts, called delusions, even though these symbols meant so much to me for my temporary mental stability however fragile it may have been.
For my well-being I had to gauge the risk of giving away something precious even if it became a passing whimsical vignette whistling its way by the outsider.
I say outsider because you all reside outside of my physical skull. You have no right to peer in and only what I say can be used for conjecture by you. Unless you happen to have a CAT scan machine in your possession. So my mind-scape is solely mine, as though it is a city to inhabit by oneself solitarily. I have walked these streets alone in the presence of too many who never noticed. Like a homeless migrant loner.
If the choice is life and demise, survival or defeat, suicide or alternatively re-hospitalization, well then the author’s resultant doom-like feelings are well warranted. Expected. Anticipated. Even dreaded by inevitable self-fulfilled prophecies.
We expect the worst reaction because of the first time that we disclosed anything at all. More commonly known as our first mistake. And even to a professional (or close clone), mind you. We were given a shot of Haloperidol in our buttock and a life sentence of pain and humiliation.
Oh, and poor diet. But do they (you) understand? It is congruent to a young monk, zealous and contrite, who can never betray their vow of silence. Ever. Even though He feels better initially to tell someone anything at all, the bad news is that he has proven himself to be a bad monk. So most people who are schizophrenian wait until they are so sick, so confused, so far gone...that they really betray their own entire personal dreamscape...treasured to