Personal Stories

I have fallen in love with telling my story of being a recovering alcoholic and paranoid schizophrenic. Alcohol was my first demon I faced and conquered before I was diagnosed. I hope you will not struggle to find the greatness in being a little crazy and you will take comfort in knowing the strength you will develop through a chaotic adventure of losing and then finding yourself. I do not know your story or struggle but I can say that giving up is not an option.

By the time I was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia, I already thought I was slowly falling apart. I was hearing voices and seeing things that others could not, with fear I attempted to hide these newly developed abilities. When the doctor suggested that the paranoia, thoughts, voices and hallucinations were due to schizophrenia, I felt an instant, strong feeling of shame and regret. Her eyes told me that I was doomed and she lacked the words to reassure me that I would survive.

I left the office in a fog; the voices took delight in their power over me. I became consumed with paranoid, irrational thoughts. I no longer could identify my own voice in my own head. I became what I thought schizophrenia should look like.

My family and friends had recognized a change in me, a change in my behavior, a change in my social interactions and my increased delusional paranoid thoughts. I asked myself, now what? No one hands you an after care sheet when you are labeled. I was alone to find out what was accepted of me which lead me to much rejection.

The voices ranted in my head with ideas, others’ thoughts, judgements, warnings and insults. They mocked me, my thoughts and my actions. They played with my insecurities and self-doubt by reminding me how worthless I was. I believed them and I accepted their concepts as truth, I began to lose sight of myself. Once again, I had hit rock bottom but this time I was not coming back.

I pictured all the people I have seen talking to themselves, the individuals I found myself afraid of. I considered schizophrenic people to be dangerous and unpredictable; I failed to recognize the beauty in their desire to survive in an ugly society.

I wanted to know how much longer I had before I completely lost my mind and ability to function. I attempted to tell others my diagnosis but I could not say schizophrenia out loud. I was ashamed and lost ability to look others in the eye.

I soon decided to find out what I should do next. I dedicated time to researching my new disorder while battling hallucinations and delusions. The articles all read the same, they all were stating what I feared that I would never be a functioning member of society.

A sense of relief came over me when I learned about different forms, medications, treatment options and the chance I might still be accepted by society. The more I researched, the more confident I became and it was the thought “I did not chose this, I should not be ashamed of being me” that allowed me to accept my new label with bashful pride. Others were just like me, others felt shamed and it sickened me. I was fed up with being judged, rejected, dismissed and misunderstood. I began to write. I wrote it all down; even the ugly parts of me were exposed.

I went through hell. I watched my loved ones follow me through hell. I lost many relationships, I lost my job and my home and I realized I had hit rock bottom because I allowed myself to become helpless, delusional, confused, weak and worthless. 

I truly believed my life was over, every day was a nightmare with an endless battle raging in my head. I was seeking ways to cure this disorder but only failed. I sought medications with no relief and I began to doubt life after my label. I allowed myself to become so demented, I attempted suicide just to end my torment and pain but I survived with an actualization of what I did in despair. I almost robbed my children of their mother, I almost robbed myself of a full life but I survived only to discover a new strength in the darkest moment of my life.

I decided to fight like I did for everything else I had achieved before schizophrenia. I rebuilt my life once before. I was struggling in my addiction but I had the strength in me to pick up the pieces every time I failed. I was going to fight for myself, for my family, and my wellbeing.

While I was willing to fight, it did not mean I was prepared for the events to come. I created a colorful life with episodes creating drama, police involvement, hospital stays, hurtful judgements and exhaustion in all forms. I sought help from others only to be disappointed by rejection and misunderstanding but I kept trying to find my cure.

I felt confused by the lack of education and understanding of such a “dangerous and unpredictable” disorder when I sought help. At times I was treated like I was contagious, that I was making it up, or I was dismissed without an attempt to understand what I was suffering from. People started treating me differently, their words spoken slowly with a glimpse of fear in their eyes.

In one short appointment, I realized I had met with the person who was going to raise me out of hell. It was not that she was well educated in mental health or my disorder but it was the intensity of her listening. I know she does not experience my suffering but she attempted to understand, quickly she introduced me to the resources that I was seeking. She did not just listen but she believed in my ability to recover and gain control.

I am forever grateful to a woman who listened, without shock or disbelief, she allowed me to come clean of all that I suffered. In a few words, she was able to give me a light at the end of the tunnel and she has never failed to believe in my strength. Not in a single moment has she placed judgement on me, and I take great comfort in that.

I am grateful to see this woman for a short hour every week. Her guidance lead me to more individuals and programs who understand mental health and its debilitating effects. Through the counsel of others, I have found myself, I have seen my strength, I have experienced despair and I have discovered a meaningful life, made much simpler when all the excess and fake people were removed. Now I do not have room in my life for anyone’s judgements because I am worth more than uneducated, misinformed, self-centered concepts.

After spending so much time feeling lonely and ashamed, I discovered a new support system I will depend on. Tonight, I sat in a room full of individuals facing their disorders and I know now I do not have to be alone anymore. The words of these individuals bring desire to achieve what I thought I lost, a meaningful life.

My story does not end here. I do not know what is ahead of me, I am unaware of what new battles await me but I will not give up. I openly share information about my disorder and struggle with others in hopes of lessening the shame of asking for help. Having schizophrenia is not wrong, I did not choose this for myself, I did not wish to become a train wreck, and we should never be ashamed of being who we are.

I have seen my strength and I will always recognize my ability to overcome even what I thought was impossible. 

I share my story because I do not want anyone to feel shame for being themselves. If you are suffering, the end is not the answer. When I thought I lost it all due to a label, I actually found out who I was and that is worth it all.

 

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