There has been a lot of headway in terms of Mental Health Awareness since I was first admitted to a psychiatric hospital 12 years ago. Despite that, Schizophrenic disorders are still highly stigmatized. We are the unwanted, misunderstood and wildly criticized few. If you suffer from mental illness "At least you're/I'm not schizophrenic!" is a common vibe I've seen floating around this interwebs so it is here that I'm going to share some of my lived experiences with the disorder and how I've managed thus far (and still hope) to overcome the many barriers my disorder has placed in my path.
Schizophrenia is viewed through a hyper-focused lens.
Schizophrenic disorders are a life-long condition, while hallucinations may be a signature feature of the disorder they're not the 'core' of the disease, seeing as how symptoms are grouped into positive and negative symptoms - positive; being things most people don't experience, such as hallucinations. While negative symptoms are things most people experience that schizophrenics don't, like initiative.
The medications used today only combat positive symptoms (voice hearing, delusions, disorganized thoughts, speech and behaviors) and their effectiveness is ostensibly a lie. Meaning, they have never worked as advertised for me. Well, if you only listen to the whisper fast talk of the side-effects then I guess I'm being a bit misleading with that last statement. I have been semi-dutiful to med compliance for 6 of the 12 years I've struggled with this disorder. Here's an abridged version of a few experiences I've had with medications for context:
The drug Risperdal structured the voices in my head, providing a predictable script for them. The downside is the voices weren't in the least bit comforting, outside of the predictability of them. It was like an all day record was playing in my head that changed depending on the time of day. When I did a blood-test my prolactin levels were astronomically high, so high I had to discontinue the drug. Which I wouldn't of considered a bad thing, if the 'structuring' of the voices didn't translate into a structuring of the home. I had motivation. I felt more normal than ever before - despite the fact I really, really wasn't. I was not content. I was neurotic and often times fearful. I also had a very vivid visual hallucination in the waking world I'd rather not discuss now. I couldn't sit down, I was always pacing and trying to find something to do. Pacing isn't uncommon for me normally but it never felt... scary like that. I did not find any joy in anything I once loved but was able to produce a meal three times a day, and do the dishes twice a day and boy... THAT wasn't bad. The turmoil and chaos I had to endure to accomplish such simple tasks however was, and my body simply could not handle it,
Compare that to Seroquel where I couldn't tell the difference between my dreams and reality. After only a few days of use I started fainting. What led to me discontinuing that drug was waking up in the hospital with a concussion. I lost my sense of smell as a result of the head injury. I can't remember a lot from that time. When I was conscious, I wasn't exactly present 'in this reality' and what I do recall was simultaneously insane and mundane. I couldn't imagine anyone experiencing that organically. Basically, the best way I can describe it for the sake of brevity is... bare with me, experiencing the multiverse. It was like I was living in two or more realities but without an anchor to any single one of them. I was seemingly phase shifting between multiple universes. When I snapped back to reality I was in a hospital shower, somehow standing.
Though I was present after discontinuing the drug, the stability of the universe I found myself in was in flux with elements of overt hostility devoid of any humanity and near normalcy... which I can only describe as moderate accommodation. Which in retrospect is honestly where I started before the experience. Things were a bit more hostile around that time, though better than before I took Seroquel. The hospital said I attempted suicide, likely because they wouldn't be able to get me into the Mental Hospital if they didn't. That's when I was put on Risperdal, though traditionally that was the drug I'd take. I wouldn't doubt the hallucinations I had on Risperdal were related to the head injury, but I fail to see how the prolactin level was anything other than med sensitivity.
I've been a pothead longer than I've been a schizoid. I've watched as weed has been legalized all around me and decriminalized as well but still it is federally considered as bad as heroin, somehow. Were I to delve into delusion, I'd say "well it's obvious! Heroine is heroin with an E on the end... Men master Energy, not women. It was ordained by Gods all around! It's illogical to allow this "mary jane" character any grounds federally!" uh... anyways... The fact it is still considered a federal crime is outright insane. I don't want this to be all about pot though, however I will share that it has led to socialization. By now we all should be well aware how social isolation is damaging. Drugs and alcohol provide a community. The only solid option I have today is in a church and I don't fit there. The biggest issue I have with pot is it increases my above average lack of initiative.
Time doesn't seem to exist at all on pot, but the medications for my illness can make a single hour feel like an eternity. Xanax is no option for me, or anyone as far as I'm concerned and the alternatives for that have little to no impact on the restlessness I have to endure without it. CBD is in the same vein, unfortunately. Time behaves like a noose when I'm on the pen and pad drugs.
A necessity of modern life is to delicately hang from a branch of responsibility based around a concept meticulously measured due to it's irrevocability. I could only struggle as I dangle, there was no escaping it. Survival itself seems to hinge on every incremental tick of the second hand and no matter what there's no exit sign when you feel that stuck. I theorize a lot of this is due to always being put on the max dosage and never getting the option of reducing it after I'm stable. The answer to my problems is always more medication, obviously I give up and go back to weed.
So what's the solution? Since marijuana is seen more as a recreational drug than a medicinal one, despite legalizations in various states, there just isn't one. I notice how strains affect me but there isn't proper regulation if the general consensus is that it's an illicit drug. Studies seem rather biased at times and the reason why shouldn't need to be written to understand why. Let's lay the blame at industrial complexes and leave it at that.
After I ran out of "wedding cake" which was around the time I initially posted this, I managed to get a doctor to put me on a low dose. I've told a doctor once "less is best" when it comes to his drugs and I realize that's the same for all drugs. It is harder to maintain a reasonable intake of cannabis the way it is utilized now and given my addictive personality, which should be on a scale. The only thing I am physically addicted to is nicotine but I do love getting high, I want oblivion all the time! Not really but you know, we work with what we got.
Schizophrenics suffer social ostracization outside hospitals and offices, yet the most damning level of exclusion is within the very places that offer help. I've rarely felt like an active participant in my mental health treatment, I don't feel like a valid person as a patient, more like a subject. A list of symptoms to be studied under glass. There appears to be no room for discussion on the plausibility of marijuana being utilized medically with doctors at this point. High doses of anti-psychotics do wonders for stabilization and maybe that's because of my sensitivity to the medications themselves or maybe not.
Med compliance is tantamount to recovery, support systems are equally important and I have yet to see long-term support exist from professionals. Rather it be with insurance or without, there's many pitfalls with this kind of illness. What's worked best for me is sheer determination of will and stalwart family and friends through-out my journey. The ride isn't over yet and I'm constantly trying to improve. The biggest hope I see for the future is that the medical community is constantly improving as well.
We really are in this together.
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