Tag: Mentalillness

The constant whispers, mutterings, half-heard insults coming from behind me, but when I try to see who it is, there is no one. The other voice that narrates my life, pointing out my failings and shortcomings, seems to enjoy shouting how slow and useless I am to understand things and catch the whisperer. The last voice continues to be itself, providing a background stream of insults and disparaging observations. Today, it seems to really push how hopeless and useless I am.

Day after day, week after week, they go on with very little respite. Sleep is no longer needed every day – only short naps – because I have to watch and observe everyone; I know they want to harm me. They can see the aura of evil surrounding me like a dark cloud, and they know what I am; they know that I am fundamentally evil, regardless of the good I try to do every day. I know that I am like a demon trying to work against their basic nature by doing good, but my very existence infects everything around me with evil, bringing harm and evil to those close to me. If I didn’t exist, the damage I’d done would be over. I’ll deal with it once I find the source of the Whisperer.

I know where the Whisperer is coming from: my roommates. They do it, and they have hidden little speakers where the Whisperer is coming from. Now it’s time to find the evidence. When I find it, the Whisperer will stop. I know it will. I start looking for the hidden speakers that I know are in the living room. I look under the couch and the chairs, look inside the cushions, tear them open to see. I cut open the back of the couch; maybe they’re hidden there. I use a broom to check the ceiling to see if I can uncover them. I’ll fix the holes later—it doesn’t matter now, finding the Whisperer is all that matters. I smash the wall unit, slam my fist through the four glass panels in a rage. Now my hand doesn’t work because I’ve cut the tendons in my joints. I never find the Whisperer. My roommates come home. They lock me in the house while they wait for the police and the ambulance to arrive. I set off, my plans to end my existence thwarted by the intervention of my roommates.

The above words briefly describe my first major psychotic episode and my first hospitalization. While it was happening, it all seemed perfectly acceptable behavior to me. Tearing apart the living room was a necessary consequence of my search for the speakers that created the whisperer. It all made perfect sense to me. All the racing, spiraling, cascading thoughts—the raw truth of my conclusions became self-evident to me. My schizophrenia became apparent then. The clues had been there for some time. Two of the voices I had been hearing had been occurring fairly regularly for years, but had gradually become more persistent.

This happened 20 years ago. Since that incident, I have had other incidents, some worse. Over the years, I have had multiple hospitalizations, drug after drug, and ECT to break the psychosis. While this experience is unique to me, the pattern is so similar to others with schizophrenia that only the details are different. Fear, confusion, loneliness, frustration, anger, and racing thoughts are a common experience shared by all of us with schizophrenia. For many people with schizophrenia, antipsychotic medications seem to stop the worst of the things I described above. For some, the medications will stop the voices, relieve the paranoia, and relieve the delusions. For others, the relief will be minimal. Perhaps the voices are quieter, the delusions or paranoia may not have the same urgency or level of fear. For a very small minority, the medications do not seem to work at all. Here is where I fall. I am lucky.

I have tried many different medications over the years. Sometimes they seemed promising, but sooner or later my symptoms would flare up and I would get sick again. Another hospital stay would follow. This continued for several years before it was decided that my schizophrenia was resistant to treatment/medication. This doesn’t mean we didn’t try different treatment protocols or interventions. We do them, we just don’t do them as often as we used to. I don’t have any regular medication at the moment, but I’ve managed to stay out of hospital for six years. Because the medication didn’t seem to be working, I had to find ways to manage my symptoms so that I could function and get on with my life. I think the one thing that made a big difference was agreeing to work with a psychologist early on in my illness, and continuing to do so, especially when things started to get out of hand.

Working with a psychologist helped me identify ways to manage my voices. They helped me identify some beliefs that felt right and obvious to me, but weren’t necessarily as right or obvious as I thought. While the beliefs are still there, being able to accept the possibility that they may not be true helps to reduce their impact on me and the paranoia they feed. The things I have learned from various psychologists over the years have made my life easier to manage.

Another thing I have discovered on my journey with schizophrenia is that I can draw. Art has become a big part of my recovery and living with schizophrenia. I use it to express what is going on in my head, to distract myself, and to get away from my voices and other symptoms.

While my life is far from easy and rarely free of schizophrenia symptoms, it is still a pretty good life most of the time. Much better than what I experienced in my early years of trying to live with schizophrenia.

I woke up this morning with the words “help me” firmly in my mind, but I couldn’t get them out of my mouth.

I wish schizophrenia hadn’t taken over my brain on days like today. This morning, I searched my entire apartment for the cameras and tracking devices (“bugs”) that have been bothering me since I turned 14. That was almost six years ago. This morning, I tried to convince myself that the water wasn’t poisoned so I could brush my teeth. I skipped breakfast because the food was definitely poisoned. I went to class, but it took me 15 minutes with a combination of breathing, coloring, and repeating to myself, “I feel good, I feel great, I feel great.” (Thanks, Bill Murray).

I walk out. My head is so low I can’t see what’s in front of me. I sit in class and don’t talk to anyone. I read because I know it’s the only thing that helps me on days like today. I pay attention in class, but I keep scratching my hands because a bug has been placed between my fourth knuckle. I start hearing voices telling me how much space I take up. How I should kill myself.

I run to the car so the FBI agents don’t have time to catch me. I go home and immediately call my apartment again. I do my homework, but I take a break to distract myself from these terrifying experiences. At 5:00 p.m., I go outside to a pitch-black place. An hour of coping skills to reassure myself that no one is there. I run to my car and to class. I barely pay attention in class for fear of what will happen if I look up from my notebook. The day ends. I don’t eat or shower because of the poison. I write, draw, dance, read, etc. for three hours. Some days I try to keep them away, but they don’t go away. I go back to bed, where I lie trapped inside my own head. I close my eyes and the world goes black. Maybe tomorrow will be a better day.

I live with a condition called disorganized schizophrenia, but I hope everyone with health issues can relate to this. I have spent hours in different therapy sessions to help me cope with life. Some sessions and types focus on coping skills. Some focus on life skills. Many have taught me how to stay calm so that my psychotic break doesn’t scare others. Or how to recognize when my symptoms are getting worse so that I can get help.

Over time, I began to realize that my daily life is similar to yours, but the details are different.

Others wake up and put their feet up to get ready for the day. I put my feet up to do grounding exercises to convince myself that I am real. Others open their closets and plan their outfits for the day. My closet is already open, so the hallucinations have a place to go that isn’t around my bed at night. My clothes have been laid out since earlier this week when I had the presence of mind to prepare, but they are under the dirty clothes from yesterday because I have no motivation or thought process.

Others may or may not eat to prepare their bodies for the day. I don’t eat because of the delusional fear that food is poisonous. Others know that they need to go to the bathroom to brush their teeth and wash their face. I had long forgotten by now, but the old me who took off my clothes remembered to reset my silent reminders. My phone reminds me to brush my teeth and wash my face, assuming I have the motivation.

Work and school are different for me too. Sometimes I use other people’s notes because mine are just random letters. Sometimes I tape the lecture so I can remember being there and what happened. Or because I can’t focus or hear because of hallucinations. I hear myself accidentally ask the same question twice. When I ask again, I hear the professor take a long pause. I still have the claw marks I drew on my arm because I knew I had done something wrong again due to nervous anxiety. Time for more grounding exercises.

Social events are few and far between, but they work differently. I’m not shy. I just wait to see who’s talking to whom, so I can tell who’s real and who’s hallucinating. I lean back against the wall so I know the voice whispering my name is just a voice.

Most people enjoy dinner. I’m exhausted from faking it and focusing all day. I convince myself that a restaurant where I can watch the food being made is safe. I look weird wearing my jacket inside, but it’s raining on me, so I have to. Most people don’t have tactile hallucinations. Maybe I’ll remember to take it off next time. It’s too late now, because the timing would be weird, and it would also keep me from scratching my arm for the 10th time this week.

Nighttime is scary. The rest of the world has slowed down, but my brain is still ticking. The doors are left open again, so they’re not standing around my bed again. I have the subtitles on my show, so I can see what they’re saying. My headphones are plugged in but not plugged in so I can block out the radio noise at night. Time to reset the silent reminders.

It’s exhausting. Many people make changes throughout the day that you or I don’t have to make. Some deal with pain. Some people live with constant emotional distress, weakened immune systems, mental disorders, stress, dietary restrictions, and more. Everyone’s routine looks different. We need to understand these things and be patient with each other. This world is hard enough, but if we could be kind and accepting to others, maybe it would be better. Be patient with yourself and others. We all live with daily changes.

I guess you could say it’s like any other marriage. It has its ups and downs, its good days and its bad days. For the most part, it has (and needs) a lot of love and affection.

It’s not an easy road like any other marriage, but it’s very rewarding. My husband is still my husband, just as he always has been. In between the hospital stays and psychotic episodes, which are fewer and farther between, there are moments of strength, love, and commitment like any other marriage. Some couples struggle with financial issues. For us, it’s mental illness, and I’m fine with it.

My husband’s diagnosis allows me to help and be there for him in a way that is unique to our marriage and our situation. I talk to him about his psychosis. I help him keep up with his medications, his appointments, and everything in between. I also take him to the movies because I love it (even if it’s romantic). I love driving with him and spending time with our families. Our marriage is as unique as any other marriage.

Sure, it can be stressful, but stress accompanies almost everything I do in my life. We love to do things like go to the zoo or go out to dinner. Honestly, the only real difference is that sometimes we have to take extra precautions. For example, sometimes we have walked out of restaurants or movie theaters because they were too loud due to my husband’s schizophrenia. Other times, we have to be prepared for something that could trigger an attack. But most of the time, it is as unique as any other relationship. We live, laugh, and love together on this journey known as life.

Does marriage include a “disability” (I use the word disability because I personally find it misleading, but that’s a story for another day) for everyone? No, everyone handles these things differently. But it works for us. If you are truly in love with someone and are willing to go through hell and back for happiness, then do it.

Last Saturday started out the same way it always does. I woke up, got ready for the day, and went to work — while experiencing symptoms like hallucinations.

Work was no different, and the hallucinations were making me anxious. A shadowy hand was covering my screen, so I couldn’t read or place orders properly. Even with headphones on, I couldn’t hear the customers because the voices and sounds never stopped.

I tried to keep going. I thought I had burned my arm by spilling food, but when I looked down, I saw that one of my hallucinations had burned me. I stepped away from the line to run cold water over my arms. My coworkers heard me swearing, but they didn’t see what had happened. I went to get back in line. I had to leave because my dying mother was standing next to me. I ran to the cold room to escape. I returned a few minutes later, in time to hear my boss ask a coworker what had happened. They had no idea. They thought I was mad at myself. I didn’t go to class or practice for the next few days.

I decided not to hide it anymore. Instead of hiding behind my stomachache, I told my professors exactly why I wasn’t in class. I had something to hide so I wouldn’t scare or worry people. I kept it a secret because I didn’t want to lose my job or my teaching license. People might treat me differently, and I hated being treated differently. People would be scared. They wouldn’t know what to do if something went wrong. I was exhausted. I was exhausted. It wasn’t healthy.

I simply posted on social media and told most people I wouldn’t be talking to for a while. It was so liberating to be honest – it felt like it took some of the weight off my shoulders. I tried to let go of what others thought and I could rest. I didn’t apologize for making others uncomfortable. I realized that “saving face” wasn’t helping myself or others. I’m all about breaking stigmas, but my lack of words wasn’t helping.

Now, people I haven’t talked to in a while are asking intelligent questions, and some are trusting me. Some are relating, and some are trying to understand. I have received messages from others saying that it is inappropriate to share about my mental illness. One person even said that it made them feel ashamed of me.

I am still positive here though. I have received support and when I felt better I taught some people what schizophrenia really is. Sometimes it gets tiring to tell the same thing over and over again. Sometimes I don’t answer questions or I wait. I haven’t found a solution to this yet, but for now I am not hiding anymore.

(From you) I was in the bathroom, looking at 10 different shades of purple eyeshadow, thinking, “Sure, I have multiple mental illnesses and I don’t have a stable job, but maybe if I’m pretty enough…” When Justin came home from hanging out with his friends, he walked through our front door. I hoped I looked good enough to catch his attention. I’d been crying a lot lately and generally delusional and paranoid. Justin would wake up in bed next to me hyperventilating, put his hand on my chest, and tell me to take a deep breath. I felt like I was being annoying and dramatic. I wanted to remind him that I was worth all the effort, but I didn’t really believe that I was.

Who would want to be with a schizophrenic girl?

I thought maybe my looks would make up for the fact that I was so hopelessly irritable and difficult to handle lately. Oh, and I will always be mentally ill because there is no cure. I mean, in movies, people still like “crazy” girls if they’re cute. Take Harley Quinn in Suicide Squad, for example. I’m a dreamy blonde with blue eyes. But there doesn’t seem to be a line of people waiting to go out with me… I don’t wear glittery underwear as pants when I go out. But hey, maybe one day I’ll have the confidence to do that and not let movies that glorify mental illness bother me. Or maybe I won’t feel like I have to be attractive to exist as a woman in society, or feel pressured to look pretty even if I’m deeply depressed and have trouble showering on a daily basis.

Justin and I have been together for a little over two years. In some ways, our relationship feels like everyone else is our age. We’re trying to figure out who we are and what we want to do with our lives. But in other ways, our relationship is very different from what you’d expect from typical young adults. For example, has your partner ever thought you were the devil? Was he afraid you were going to kill him? Has he woken up from a nightmare and can’t tell the difference between a dream and reality? …No? These are just a few things Justin has had to deal with during my psychotic years.

I have schizoaffective disorder, obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD), and social anxiety disorder. Each disorder seems to make the other worse. Paranoia, hallucinations, and delusions are symptoms of schizoaffective disorder. My OCD is characterized by intense intrusive thoughts. What about my social anxiety disorder? I tend to come across as rude, angry, or extremely shy. My first day of work always comes with stomach problems and migraines. My body and mind are wired together in complete terror. My fight-or-flight response kicks in, and I usually avoid people and things.

But let’s also factor in my mood disorder. Sometimes I’m on top of the world. I have so many ideas and am the life of the party. I feel like the funniest and smartest person. Suddenly, I have no qualms about dancing in public. I’m baking 200 cookies for Thanksgiving, having never cooked before. I decided to become a photographer, despite having no experience and little interest in the field. This is where Justin comes in. He tells me to “sleep on it,” to sleep on whatever big idea I have today, and if I feel the same way, I can take action, buy new books or craft supplies for the next activity I want to master. But if I don’t, which I usually don’t, then I thank him for keeping me from selling everything I own and becoming a farmer or auditioning for “The Voice.” That’s crazy.

Depression is the opposite. Sometimes I get angry and irritable and I don’t really want to go out. I don’t want to dance. I don’t understand how anyone, anywhere, can feel good. Life seems ridiculous, the noise is too loud, the lights are too bright, and even the wind seems to hurt my bare skin. I’m no longer invincible. I feel like a dead tree. One gust of wind and I’ll fall to the ground. I cry easily and I’m overly sensitive. I’m a two-sided coin that no one really cares about. I’m either too excited or too bored. I talk too fast or not enough. I am too loud or too quiet. I am too happy or too sad. People can’t keep up with me when I’m running in the park or shopping at the mall, or they think I’m lazy because I stay in bed all day. I’m never what people want me to be.

Peki ya Justin? Onun bipolar bozukluğu var. Biz bir baklanın içindeki iki asabi bezelyeyiz. Ya da öyleydik, ama son zamanlarda Justin harika gidiyor. Ve insanlar farklı hızlarda büyür. Bazı meyveler olgunlaşmak ve toplanmaya hazır hale gelmek için diğerlerinden daha uzun zaman alır ve sanırım ben hala biraz ekşim, bu sorun değil ama Justin’in şişman, tatlı ve koyu mavi daldan sarkmasını izlemek zor. Daha birkaç ay önce, panik atak geçirmeden Walmart’tan geçemiyordu. Onu eski liseme götürdüğümde, canı pahasına elimi tuttu, sadece ben ayrılmayı kabul edene kadar banyoda saklanmak için bıraktı. Justin’i evden çıkarmak zordu ve derse gitmek için çok gergin olduğu için notları düşüyordu. Bir kereden fazla okula arabayla gitti ve sonra içeri girmek yerine arabada oturdu, arkadaşlarının onunla dalga geçeceğinden korkuyordu. Şimdi derse gitmekte hiçbir sorunu yok ve hatta arkadaşlar bile edindi. Okul işleriyle meşgul ve sanki unutulmuşum gibi hissediyorum, sanki Justin’in hayatında ekstra yardıma ihtiyaç duyduğu bir zamanın parçasıymışım gibi, ama artık öyle değil. Yani, artık bana ihtiyacı yok. Ve bu yüzden doğru göz farı tonunu seçmek çok önemli görünüyordu. Güzel, başarılı ve özgüvenli görünmek istiyordum. Justin kadar iyi yaptığım yanılsamasını yaratmak istiyordum. Beklemeye değer olduğumu bilmesini istiyorum çünkü ben hala ilk adımlarımı tereddütle atarken o tam hızda koşuyor. Geride bırakılmış hissediyorum. Okulun ne kadar zor olduğunu söyleyerek kucağıma çöküp hıçkırarak ağlardı. Eve doğru koşardım çünkü bana hayatın anlamsız olduğuna dair gizemli mesajlar gönderirdi ve tekrar intihar etmeye kalkışacağından korkardım. Duş aldığında fark ettiğimi ona bildirirdim çünkü günlük hijyen bile onun için zordu. Alışveriş merkezine gitmek bile onun için büyük bir olaydı. Uzun zamandır çok üzgündü ve ben onu iyileştirdim, çok uzun süredir açık olan gözyaşlarını ve delikleri diktim. ‘Çünkü ben bunu yapıyorum. Yardıma ihtiyacı olan insanlara çekiliyorum ve sonra onları düzeltiyorum ya da düzeltmeye çalışıyorum. Ama iki yıl geçti ve Justin’in artık düzeltilmeye ihtiyacı yok.

Bu benim için ne anlama geliyor?

Bu, başkalarını düzeltmeye çalışmayı bırakıp kendim üzerinde çalışmamın zamanı geldiği anlamına geliyor. Bu, Justin’in iyileşmesine yardım ettiğim kadar sevgi, zaman ve çabayı kendi iyileşmeme de harcayabileceğim anlamına geliyor. Yardıma ihtiyaç duymaktan hoşlanmıyorum. Bağımsızlıktan daha azından nefret ediyorum ama işte buradayım, sonunda ağlama zamanım geldiğini, kucaklanma zamanım geldiğini, Justin’in tanıştığımızdan beri bana vermeye çalıştığı tüm sevgi ve desteği kabul etme zamanım geldiğini kabul ediyorum. Çünkü mesele şu: Justin’i etkilemek için mükemmel göz farına ihtiyacım yok. Ve o hiçbir yanılsamaya kapılmıyor. Kendimden başka kimseyi kandırmıyorum. Ne yaptığımı biliyormuşum gibi görünmeye çalışmak anlamsız çünkü Justin benim zorlandığımı biliyor ve benim için orada olmaya hazır. Sadece kendim için orada olmam gerekiyor.

Sonunda farımın güzel göründüğünü söylediğinde dağıldım. Kendimi daha iyi hissettireceğini düşündüğüm için kendimi aptal gibi hissettim. Mesele bu bile değildi. Gerçeği hıçkırarak söyledim, “Kim benimle olmak ister ki? Şizofreni hastası bir kızla olmak ister ki? Çok iyi gidiyorsun ve ben hiçbir yere gitmiyorum.” “Evet,” dedi, “Seninle olmak istiyorum. Seni seviyorum.”

Doğru farı seçmek Justin’in beni fark etmesini sağlamakla ilgili değildi. Kendimi fark etmemi sağlamakla ilgiliydi. Rengi göz kapaklarıma sürerken aynaya baktım ve unuttuğum kızı hatırladım, uzun zamandır beni fark etmeye çalışan kızı. Acı çekiyordu ve ben onu ancak dikkatimi çekecek kadar güzel olduğunda fark ettim. Justin’in beni kendimi yargıladığım gibi yargılamasından korkuyordum. Çünkü “çirkin, tembel” bir kızın sevgiyi veya mutluluğu hak etmediğine inandırılmıştım. Depresyondayım ama depresyonda görünmek benim için kabul edilebilir değil. Yağlı saçlarım başımdan aşağı sarkıyor. Banyo lavabosunun altında kullanmam için bekleyen bir kutu çamaşır suyuna rağmen koyu renkli köklerim uzadı. Nefesim kokuyor ve yüzümde sivilceler çıktı. Justin bu kızı seviyor, bir hafta boyunca duş almayan ve diş fırçasını kaybeden kızı, ben neden sevmeyeyim?

Kendimi Justin’in beni sevdiği gibi sevmeye hazır mıyım? Onun için olduğum gibi kendim için orada olmaya hazır mıyım? Başkalarından önce kendini sevmeyi öğrenmekle ilgili saçmalıkları unut. Birine aşık olmak, kendimi hak ettiğim şekilde sevmeyi öğrenebilmemin tek yoluydu. Justin’in iyileşmesine gösterdiğim çabayı kendi iyileşme sürecime de gösterme zamanım geldi. Tıpkı Justin duş aldığında yaptığım gibi duş aldığım için kendimi tebrik etme zamanım geldi. Onu sevdiğim kadar kendimi de koşulsuz sevme zamanım geldi. Benden birkaç adım önde olabilir ama eli arkasında uzanmış. Elini tutmamı bekliyor.

This post is for all the Type A personalities out there. For those who were successful, excelling, and generally doing great things until they were diagnosed with schizophrenia. Of course, you can still do great things, but let’s slow down for a second and figure out how to do it.

Effectively managing a chronic condition like schizophrenia is not a sprint. It’s a marathon of pacing yourself, taking care of yourself, and accepting your limitations. It can be incredibly difficult to do. In fact, as I write this, I’m struggling with the habit of waking up relentlessly writing this post instead of going to bed!

However, writing this post brings me a joy like video games and art. The truth is, having schizophrenia for the rest of your life means reducing stress as much as possible. Studies have shown that reducing stress is more effective for people with schizophrenia. This means reducing the expectations you and others have of you as much as possible. I want to make one thing perfectly clear: you are disabled – anyone with half a brain knows that, and it is not your responsibility to make others think you can take care of anything but yourself (which is hard enough on its own).

Let Go of What People Think of You

I lived with someone who didn’t understand what it was like to be disabled for a few years. It finally reached a boiling point where they were sending me a toxic message detailing exactly how much of an “asshole” I was. I stumbled across the message a few years later and it really pissed me off because I am extremely high-functioning these days and the person they described did not reflect the person I am today. Can you imagine my reaction when I first read it?

A duck’s back in water. I was not impressed. In fact, I laughed and tried to convince them to spout more anti-ableist nonsense so that the other people living with me would know how wrong they were. Undeniably, much of what they said was objectively true. However, it also presented an unrealistic expectation of what a schizophrenic person could do on a daily basis. I knew that. They didn’t. Some people think the Earth is flat. Oh well. Life goes on.

Sometimes living with chronic schizophrenia also means living with “chronic stupidity”! Hah! People can say some pretty ignorant things. We can even say them to ourselves. However, if you can look at your life, your symptoms, and the side effects of your medications objectively and without judgment, you will be one step closer to effectively overcoming schizophrenia in your daily life.

Schizophrenia is a complex illness that is often unpredictable and can be difficult to detect in yourself. However, there are warning signs that can be noticed before more severe symptoms such as hallucinations and/or delusions begin. I have found that I am now more aware of my symptoms, but it got to the point where I had to be hospitalized before I could get help and find some relief, before I was diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder depressive type.

Learning to detect my symptoms as they occur has helped me tremendously in focusing on my own health and ensuring my safety in the future. However, on the other hand, if you are concerned about a loved one, it is important to detect the warning signs early so that you can help them if they cannot help themselves. Educating yourself about the early warning signs of schizophrenia will help you educate your loved one, yourself, or even others about this complex illness.

Early diagnosis is crucial to the safety of those affected by schizophrenia, and the more we learn about this condition and its counterpart, schizoaffective disorder, the more we can create a culture of understanding and care.

The media and our society as a whole tend to stereotype schizophrenia as a series of extreme hallucinations and delusions, and do not focus on the full experiences of people with schizophrenia. While these symptoms are one element of this illness, there are many other symptoms that often occur before a person experiences hallucinations and/or delusions. Learning how to spot these early warning signs is important not only in detecting schizophrenia, but also in detecting a variety of mental illnesses.

The following symptoms are warning signs of schizophrenia, but they are also warning signs of other mental illnesses, such as depression. If you notice these symptoms in yourself or a loved one, the best thing you can do is call a crisis center in your area or go to the emergency room. Safety is a top priority during early diagnosis, and getting help right away is key. I believe there is no such thing as overreaction when it comes to seeking help for mental illness and that it is important to seek higher levels of care at any stage of mental illness.

Some of the early warning signs to watch for when schizophrenia is suspected include:

Decreased work or school performance.

Difficulty concentrating.

Paranoia or suspicion of others.
Decreased self-care/hygiene.
Isolation or spending more time alone.
Strong emotional reactions or lack of emotion.

The earliest symptoms I experienced before I experienced psychosis were poor self-care and hygiene. I would often go days without getting dressed, and it was difficult to shower regularly. I also noticed that I was isolated and had strong emotional reactions that were often inappropriate. I also struggled to attend my classes and participate in my internship. These symptoms lasted for months and eventually developed into me experiencing hallucinations and delusions. While each person’s symptoms may look different, these tend to be universal symptoms for early detection of mental illnesses, especially schizophrenia.

Schizophrenia is a serious mental illness, and early detection is our best tool in keeping our loved ones and/or ourselves safe. The more we emphasize the importance of detecting mental illness, the more empathy and compassion we can create for mental health. If you are concerned, please seek help from a higher authority in your area. You could save a life.

Do you remember the old saying heard on the playground: “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me?” People often use words like “crazy” or “psychopath” to describe people with a mental health diagnosis. The word “psychopath” is not necessarily a stigmatizing word, but people sometimes use it as an insult. Most of the insults I experience are in my head when my paranoia or delusions take over. Self-stigmatization can also be a product of our experiences.

I was bullied while I was in the military. If that hadn’t happened, it would have likely been another traumatic event that would have brought my schizophrenia to light. Yes, I said it: I have schizophrenia, specifically schizoaffective disorder. An urgent call from my family to the police made me realize that I needed help. As horrific as it was for everyone involved, it helped me heal today. I don’t deny my past, but I have learned to accept it and move on with my life without shame. For me, medication, a trusted doctor, and a good support system helped me move forward, but I can never forget what the early years of my treatment plan were like. Time helps too. Over time, I realized that I was no longer a mental patient, but a mental health advocate.

How I use my words has become very important to me. I use them to educate people about my mental illness and schizophrenia. To be honest, I can be hesitant to share my story with others, but I have received help from a variety of sources. My family has been a tremendous source of help for me. The doctors at the veterans hospital and other veterans have helped me emotionally and physically. I have found purpose in sharing my mental health journey and with the online organization Students with Psychosis. While we each have our own advocacy, we are not competing with each other, and seeing what everyone else is doing in their advocacy efforts motivates me.

I have said that time helps me move forward and that developing a regular routine helps me get to the point where my words can make a difference. I set my alarm clock for 10 a.m., but I usually wake up before the alarm clock rings and listen to a book on tape. I eat breakfast. Eating healthy has become important to me and I like to plan and prepare my own meals. I listen to an online church service twice a week and listen to music every day.

Seeing what my schizophrenia community is doing on social media pushes me to be active. Exercise is so important for my mental health and I have found that regular exercise makes a difference in my mental health journey. I usually take time to write and call my family every day because it is important for me to have some social contact every day. There are days when I feel unmotivated or a little depressed. Sometimes just sitting on my balcony and breathing in the fresh air helps me clear my head and enjoy some quiet time to think.

Although it changed my life, being diagnosed with schizophrenia was not the end of my life. I was diagnosed in 2004 and I am in recovery. It may have taken a while but I am happy. Sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me because I am valuable and I have a purpose.