Schizophrenia is a noxious disease taking over all corners of my brain. This disease occupies all thoughts
I conjure, creates a false sense of reality, delusions of grandeur, paranoia, and hallucinations.
Initially, it started off with loud bangs sounding like bombs, my name whispered in my ear and inaudible
voices. Drugs became my escape, using LSD, further enforcing my false sense of reality. Potentiating
every conceivable psychotic thought running through my brain, establishing new ideas in every corner of
my life.
The drug use became rampant. Anything you can name; Stimulants, Dissociatives, Psychedelics, Opiates
and everything in between. Drug use was a daily activity, no particular addiction to a specific drug but
rather a poly addiction. I couldn’t function without one form of a narcotic taking hold of my mind.
Drug use further exacerbated my disease. Within four months my delusions became stronger, a false
sense of reality further established. Number plates on cars would add up, mean different things,
become a focal point of my activities, working out where they had come from, what colour the car was,
the number plate, and the person driving the car. Everything was 1s and 0s, the matrix, the Truman
show. Everything was fake. I was just a program glitched in the system. My mind had been taken over by
this mental illness, my mind was muddled and the illness had spread itself throughout every corner of
my brain, with only that last dimly lit remainder.
I needed to find out what all of this meant, but it was impossible to work out. I’d sit there watching the
cars pass at school and saw the routine cars following me and surveying me. I believed my room had
been tapped by the police and I was being watched every moment of my life, but why? I could never
work it out as it was a false statement, of no use and no meaning. Yet at the time I couldn’t realise they
were just cars, just people, just number plates.
During this period of time, I would stay up for nights on end, drinking stolen red bulls and smoking
cigarettes. I was talking to myself and wandering my neighbourhood. I would walk up and down the
streets. I would head to school on minimal sleep and wouldn’t function. I could hear every conversation
throughout school. I believed someone was out to kill me. I’d leave school whenever I’d start having
these thoughts.
My hallucinations became more prevalent. Hallucinating a lady morphing through my wall, coming to kill
me. My dad standing in the corner of the room with a knife in his hand, bleeding from his left arm.
Auditory hallucinations became stronger, not just names, people inside my head, different scenarios
with friends, hallucinating myself at a bar. I believed I had transcended not just this universe but many, I
believed to find out which universe was real I’d need to fracture them. I believed if I was to put myself in
a coma or die I’d find out which universe held the truth. I’d stand on the corner of the road watching
cars go by, contemplating jumping in front of one to put myself in a coma or die and find out which
universe in my head was real.
The drug use stopped after a week-long binge of hard opiates. I decided I needed medical attention. I
walked into the school counselor’s office and after saying my first sentence “I’m hearing voices and not
sleeping”, i was instantly referred to a psychologist, without any further questions, she couldn’t help me.
I started seeing a psychologist but to no avail. I was then referred to a psychiatrist after a month of
seeing this psychologist, as he couldn’t help me. I needed medication.
I started seeing a psychiatrist and was diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder. A subtype of
schizophrenia which involves the staple schizophrenia symptoms as well as a mood disorder. I’d cycle
between manic and depressed, I was classified as rapid cycling. Most people with bipolar disorder or
schizoaffective disorder have month long mood swings. I, on the other hand, would change moods once
every two or three days.
My blood was soon infused with pharmaceutical drugs. Antidepressants, Anti Psychotics, Anxiolytics and
sleeping medication. I spent a further 2 years finding the right medication, I was no longer using drugs
daily, but rather sporadically. I was still psychotic, I had been sent to the ER five times due to psychosis. I
was classified as treatment resistant and was cycled through medication like no tomorrow. I’d been
through several medications with no progress.
I saw multiple psychiatrists to find the right combination and gather opinions. I was diagnosed
schizoaffective by all of them and was told i needed to go to a psychiatric ward. I voluntarily went to a
psychiatric ward and my medication was being shuffled around while seeing a psychiatrist daily and
going to therapy classes. After another couple of months of agony, i had finally found my medication.
I’m now on Zyprexa, Lamactil, Valium, and Seroquel. At this point I had finally become functional, I
started working every day, held a healthy sleeping routine and the symptoms had ceased.
I was thought to be a highly functioning schizophrenic, but I don’t feel this way, the negative symptoms
will never be eradicated, consisting of muddled thoughts, bad attention span amongst others.
I still feel like a shell of my former self before my mental illness. Not the same. Weak, fragile and futile. I
know that in the future i may slip. You’re never cured of schizophrenia but rather go into remission. I
know a trigger in life may spiral me back into the chaos which schizophrenia is, but for now, I need to
stay functional.
I’m grateful for all of the help I’ve received and I believe I’ve matured a lot due to all of this. Not
everything is all fine and dandy like many people my age believe. Life can be shit, but with the right
people and the right drive, anything is possible.
