My StoryI guess it all has to do with perspective, with reality, with what we see ourselves as being, and how we cope. I reach far into myself every day to find hope. I pray I always have this capacity. I need God, I need my true friends, and I need compassion for what I am and what I am going through.
Do I get it right? Not always. Do I feel encouraged every day; do I feel passion to push forward all the time? That is a negative. I don’t know why it’s so hard. I watch other people do it so effortlessly every day though and it does not make my plight any easier. I want to be a real boy. I want what I feel to count. It seems to ring so untrue to everybody though. It seems empty to them. It’s real to me though.
I can taste what I feel. It shines like everything else I experience. It feels so real. I want it to be real too. Schizophrenia has a certain level of seductiveness. I want to be able to converse with angels and see the heart of God (my delusions have to do with angels and demons). It feels right, it feels natural. The pills reality feels real too, just on a lesser scope. I feel medicated though. The body knows this however it does and I am bothered by it. I feel like Neo trying to realize he was trapped for so long but the reality medication gives me seems fake too. Where is real and what makes something real or fake anyway? I am not looking for a philosophical debate, just my life. I want my life back. I am tired of looking at my own existence and finding emptiness. I want to touch the heart of God and not be told I am in a dream world. Dear God, I do know you understand me at least. You are infinite, and thank you for being so. I could not have it any other way. Thanks, thanks that I am not beyond you!
My illness is a game changer though; it has propelled me in a direction of no return, and of little familiarity. Who should I compare myself too? Who has lived my life and written a book about it? I understand psychosis, I do. I get it’s not real and I want it to remain that way. I want to be in your life dear guardians of reality (normal people). I get that you know that and I don’t. I want what you have but what security do I have when at any moment a medication could stop working, and I could have to start over, or worst, never come back from the abyss.
I guess none of us are secure though. Nobody here has that luxury really. I just feel it more and with good reason. That possibility is there to happen. Odds are, I will relapse again. I guess I just need my doctor close, and my family closer.
I never set out to be like this. I never wanted my reality to tear so far. I wanted peace and serenity, and above all love. I love love. It is an accomplishment I cherish. I have loved others and I consider it a feeling to cherish - a feeling that is real.
I am 28 and have struggled with reality since 11. At first it was not anything bad. It was a projection of my subconscious, which I felt was productive, in the form of angels. I never felt paranoid, or scared by any of it. It seemed to me to be God, God on a grand visual scale. I would wonder if this is what great men of faith felt like when they said all those words that became so powerful, so real, to so many lives. It felt like a waist for me though. I am no leader. I don’t want this. Could it be that all inspired people feel this way at first?
In early college I did well, excelling at all my studies and making far better grades than in high school. It was then that I considered myself smart, and witty. I always felt smart, and people told me I was. I was especially good at math. I loved math. I could plug a number here, and then there. A few conversions later I had an answer. Calculus was a joy for me. It just made so much sense. I received awards for my math proficiency.
I guess it all just went too far. I felt my mind becoming more and more active. I felt my thoughts racing very quickly, too quickly. I worried I would not be able to calm down. I tried to buy pot. It was the only thing I knew of that could just be calming for me. I gave up pot though and switched to a larger harder school where I received a scholarship for music. In retrospect, I wish I had just stayed close to family. Their support has always got me through the harder times and I was away from that in many ways.
I am not sure if the digression to psychosis can be captured in writing. I started to feel the world was ending, and that doom and gloom were everywhere. I started to feel something was not right, that hell, or something, had broken loose and that I was the only one able to perceive it. I felt terror on a regular basis until I could not leave my room even to attend classes. My roommate, for whatever reason, was bi-polar (i was living in a large dorm). This was key because I was able to figure out I was schizophrenic from him. He had a general understanding of mental illness and these enabled me to diagnoses myself and show up at the ER for help.
Nobody believed me at first. My grades were just starting to suffer. I told them though, over and over, that I was approaching a point, a tipping point, which I would not be able to come back from. I told them that my brain was under attack and that if I got any crazier I would not be able to hold it together. The medical people did nothing. They actually tried to have me arrested. They felt the terrors I was telling them were real. I have always been articulate, and they felt I was really in a cult or something.
As it turns out I was schizo-affective. I found this out after I was fully engulfed in the delusion. It was a very clear cut diagnosis, thank God, so I was able to be treated quickly. I felt relief, the kind that is indescribable. I felt like I had been through hell and back to get here though. I felt used up. I felt thin, like I had been stretched too far. There was no going back though. I still feel that way to this day.
Councilors don’t understand it. My doctor does though and does seem truly sympathetic. He understands the pressure in my mind and the general feeling of just not feeling well. I pray he stays close to this area so I can keep this level of security I feel I have with him.
There really is no going back. In my psychotic entanglements I had watched everybody I know and love die, over and over, until I could not open my eyes, only rock back and forth drooling on myself. I hate water. I have watched my mother drown over and over and have woken up in bed with her dead corpse.
I guess in summation, where is my release? Where is even one person that understands what I went through to get to where I am today? I feel because I was so proactive in seeking treatment that I was on meds before any major brain damage has occurred, but what next? Is there any way to un-see what I have seen? There is none though, but every day I live in reality it gets easier and easier. It gets old though, feeling this way.
I am hopeful for the future however. I have an almost ungodly skill at therapy for others with these conditions. My doctor is recommending I return to work for him as a counselor. I attend the training on case management next week. Thank you God I can still be useful. I desire more than anything to find my place in this world.
If you understand this, I am sorry. If any of this torcher rings true in your life my prayer is recovery. Nobody should go through what so many of us do go through. I am grateful I can at least to some extent conjure these words to do some justice to what I feel. Schizophrenia however, is a state of being, not a thing to be described. To even begin to illuminate it you would need additional languages.