The Quiet Room: A Journey Out of the Torment of Madness

The Quiet Room: A Journey Out of the Torment of Madness

Lori Schiller, Amanda Bennett

Language: English

Pages: 288

ISBN: 0446671339

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


At seventeen Lori Schiller was the perfect child -- the only daughter of an affluent, close-knit family. Six years later she made her first suicide attempt, then wandered the streets of New York City dressed in ragged clothes, tormenting voices crying out in her mind. Lori Schiller had entered the horrifying world of full-blown schizophrenia. She began an ordeal of hospitalizations, halfway houses, relapses, more suicide attempts, and constant, withering despair. But against all odds, she survived. Now in this personal account, she tells how she did it, taking us not only into her own shattered world, but drawing on the words of the doctors who treated her and family members who suffered with her.

In this new edition, Lori Schiller recounts the dramatic years following the original publication -- a period involving addiction, relapse, and ultimately, love and recovery.

Moving, harrowing, and ultimately uplifting, THE QUIET ROOM is a classic testimony to the ravages of mental illness and the power of perserverance and courage.

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His lyrics and then answered them himself. It seemed to me a lot like the conversations my Voices would have with each other when they were being relatively tranquil. Sometimes when Billy Joel sang about madness, depression or exhilaration he seemed to share my terrifying inner chaos. When he sang about loneliness, he seemed to understand the isolation I felt. When the group Steely Dan sang “Any Major Dude,” I could hear the song speaking to me, speaking of a woman, maybe me, hovering on the.

She stood up before our guests and thanked me for all the help I had given her while she was in the hospital. “I'm sorry for all the trouble I caused you then, Daddy,” she said. “Thank you for helping pull me through a rough time.” When you make a jump from a 1 to a 3 it's not like the 10 you had, but it's still progress. I tried to keep our relations simple and on an even keel. On Sunday afternoons, we walked on the golf course together. On Saturday afternoons, we did errands. We drove up.

Down the same job for years. They all seemed more adept at relating to other people than I did. I envied the free and easy way they had of talking with the staff people. I didn't seem to be able to relate normally to anyone. Instead, I engaged them in a continual game of “Can you top this?” What else did I have to offer or make intelligent conversation about? I saw my psychiatrist three times a week, more than any of them did. So I offered that as conversation. We swapped stories of the times we.

Away all my record albums, every last one, to the residents in Futura. I tried giving my stereo to the house. My dad would take care of my car. For several days I talked to Robin about wanting to kill myself. I was sick of the Voices. Sick of feeling depressed. Sick of feeling worthless. Sick of feeling hopeless. She threatened me: “If you do anything, I'll kill you,” she said. Ha! If I had my way she'd be too late. I had made the final decision. There was no other way out. This was to be my.

Halloween mask ever made or creatures with big blubbery, hairy, slippery green faces. But sometimes I saw people I recognized. I saw the face of my parents’ friend Dr. Arnie Maerov melt into a caricature. Why him? Was it simply because he was a psychiatrist, or because he was a friend of my parents? I saw my seventh-grade science teacher, Fred Zaltas. I had had a crush on him when I was thirteen, but I hadn't thought of him in ten years. I saw my childhood Jerry Mahoney doll. Jerry was like my.

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