Numbers

13 

That number has been very important to me for quite some time.  Not because of some superstitious belief, but because it's way better...lower...than 50.

50 

is the percentage of chance I once believed I had to become schizophrenic.  I've thought that since I was about 4, when my parents got divorced and my mom started yelling in streaks about how awful"your father" was and how his illness ruined her.  She's been a victim her whole life...and it caused me to scrutinize EVERY single word I said, move I made and frown on my face.  As a result, I'm often told I'm "nice".  Which I try to be.  But the extent to which I've tried since I was incredibly young, that's not just because I'm hard-wired that way.  It's because it reduced a lot of anxiety for me.

As a teenager, I finally had access to instant knowledge through the wonders of the internet in the late 90's and found that 13% is the chance that you ACTUALLY have to inherit schizophrenia from a parent who has the illness. Not so bad, right?  And my kids would have an even smaller chance...

5% 

as grandchildren of a schizophrenic since I do not have that illness.  But that's not something I've ever really been willing to risk and have decided not to have biological children of my own.  More on that below and in future posts.  That's a big one.

But now add in my mother's illness...what were the chances that I would become bipolar or schizophrenic?  Is it different since part of her illness was triggered by horrific environmental factors in her childhood paired with the chemistry in her brain?  Either way, you'll hear me say how lucky I know I am all the time.  I really don't go a day without thinking that at least once.

My mom has finally, and officially been diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder.  This changes things.  For her, and for me.  Because now...my number is....

40%

According to this study, my chances increase to 40%.  Who knows my chances my children would have.  Look at that huge red arrow.

That line goes up to almost 40%.  A sobering reality on a Sunday night.  Just when you thought you'd researched it all and felt like you'd conquered all your fears....turns out your lifelong fear was actually pretty close to correct.  Needing a break.