Venting: I know delusional when I see it

 What are the odds that a schizoaffective sister would be the most in touch with reality of all her siblings? I have three siblings and at least one of them expressed to me apprehension that one of their aspiring writer siblings would write an autobiography slandering them. I don’t think any of my siblings read/care enough to read my blog and see how I am doing. I could pepper my blog with stories about them because I have a lot to say.. All three of them get on my nerves at times. No one in my family believes or wants to believe that my diagnosis of mental illness is genetic. They believe it is simply a case of me smoking too much weed starting in junior high and experimenting with drugs that they would never try. So now that I am fully medicated and under the care of a psychiatrist who I see regularly, I wonder why I am the sanest of my siblings? Their stories and the things that they believe, drift off into fantasy all the time. I know delusional when I see it. My family and I were raised Catholic and have some spiritual beliefs that many consider highly suspicious and that we cannot prove. So it is partly that. I want to call myself Catholic, like my family does, but I am trying not to say weird things that many people don’t believe. I don’t want to be called a liar or a loony, although I am diagnosed schizoaffective. My medication keeps me calm and grounded. Unfortunately my family is out of their minds. I have a really hard time talking to them. They are always agitated too. I think my siblings need to step up their medication hardcore to what I am taking. One of my sisters is unstable and highly religious which combines into comical kooky stories. Recently she told me that she is positive that the bird that she keeps seeing in her backyard is one of our dead relatives visiting her. Really? The bird is not simply using your bird feeder? Why do all of my siblings get visits from dead relatives? I never receive visits from my mother who passed on. I also don’t credit everything good that happens to praying to my deceased mother. I can’t credit or blame anyone for the way my life turned out really. It is what it is. I am just trying to make the best out of my life. I was very close with my mother, while she was alive. I still love her. I miss her. I thank her and my Dad for giving me life. When I look at pictures I try to remember her and reminisce about the good times. But I am realistic. I just don’t feel mother’s presence anymore. I hoped that I would feel her, but I don’t. She is gone. I try to make myself feel better by thinking logically. If the bird  in my sisters backyard is really my dead brother-in-law, why would he visit her and not my other sister who was his wife or his son? She wishes that he would visit her but no, I don’t believe it. It’s impossible! Unfortunately because of the stigma associated with mental illness and all the sucky side effects of psychiatric medication,  no one in my immediate family is taking the medication that they need and they never will! I just have to deal with their imbalances if I want to keep in contact with them.