On the last Thursday of the month, I take off from work so I can see Dr. Altman in the city. I arrive a half hour early and pop into Sephora before walking around the block to his office. The pull to browse this cosmetics emporium is too strong to resist, and so even though I can’t afford much, I buy one of the cheaper lipsticks.

After taking the elevator to his floor, I check myself out in the ladies room, making sure I look presentable. He’s a great psychiatrist and I’ve been seeing him for over five years now; it’s a marriage of his knowledge of the latest treatments and my insight into how the schizophrenia has been playing out in my head lately. He can tell how well I’m doing by whether I’m wearing ratty old jeans and an ill-fitting tee shirt, or trousers and a wool turtleneck.

I trust Dr. Altman completely. When he suggested we increase my dose of Geodon, I welcomed the chance. For over seven months, I’ve been solely on this newer atypical, and he felt I would get better with time. Not only is he confident in his decisions, he has the confidence to wear a hot pink shirt, and this impresses me, too.

With him, I'm writing the next chapter in my recovery. The future is an open book I write in each day.  Perfection is a myth because it implies there is no growth. We can change in subtle and dramatic ways throughout our lives. In the morning I've begun watchingDemocracy Now on Channel 56, and I read more books each year than I ever have.

Recovery involves taking risks to change the status quo: To shake up our medication routines in order to adjust to shifts in our brain chemistry. Not only does one-pill-NOT-fit-all, it’s dangerous to believe you can put your treatment on autopilot and take the same drug for 50 years. I’m a work-in-progress, as we all are, and I cherish these freedoms: To change my clothes, my mind, and my life.

As a young woman, what lurked in my closet reflected my mental chaos: I dressed in black when I was depressed and wore combat boots when I was angry. Over the years, I’ve cleaned out that closet as I was clearing the cobwebs from my mind. Last fall, I did an early “spring clean.” I tossed out all my brown lipsticks and finally accepted I didn’t look good in them. I donated some clothes to the Salvation Army that were in colors that didn’t flatter me.

And yes, I began taking a higher dose of Geodon. What has been the result? While every so often I have fleeting worries, it doesn’t upset me. I recognize I have a heightened awareness of pain because I have insight into my illness. Accepting that I have schizophrenia made all the difference in how far I was able to go in my recovery. Yet with this comes the knowledge that something is different and I have no control over it.

As someone who seeks to be in control, it’s hard to let go of the need to be perfectly turned out at all times. That’s when I rely on a “uniform”: A wardrobe that allows me to fit comfortably in any situation, even when I’m feeling insecure. I also network with a group of women who meet every month in one another’s apartments to dish about life and love, and our various mental illnesses. Discovering these women has given me the confidence and courage to make other changes and take new risks.

It’s been five months since Dr. Altman increased the dose of Geodon. Can I say definitively this is the end of my worry? Though I’m hopeful, it’s too soon to tell if this will last. I’ll write that page when I come to it.