Mental Illness

My first mental health battle began at the young age of fourteen. I became suicidal and was having extreme panic attacks when assigned oral presentations. This manifested the anxiety disorder I have suffered for over two decades, just now effectively treated by medication. I cannot believe the medication has worked. When I was sixteen years old I began to have schizophrenic episodes and mania. I thought I was speaking to God and trying to save my soul and live forever. I ended getting into trouble for running away from home and ended up in a boarding school in Idaho. This is when I began antipsychotic medications. I went home to Los Angeles after my parent’s divorce and lived with my mother. I fell into a deep and dark depression and utter despair. I became suicidal over the simplest of things.

 I attempted my life at fourteen and sixteen, but there were not enough pills to kill me. In my room I would take many overdoses. One day I died on the floor of my bedroom. I awoke somehow, went into critical care and my battle with housing, safety and cohabitation began in San Diego outside of my mother’s home. I have been on almost every antipsychotic that is available to be prescribed, many benzodiazapines, and anti depressants. I have been hospitalized thirty three times since my time here at county, at every crisis home at least twice and worked with therapists, caseworkers and psychiatrists to get better. Thanks to dialectical behavioral therapy, I no longer attempt my life like I had done in such a severe depression and sadness. I still fear I will take my life one day. I have read therapy books, actively participated in therapy and been med compliant for over ten years. I have struggled with bipolar I and II, and both were effectively treated by medicine. My mental health struggle still continues today with psychosis and delusions. I feel hopeless, helpless, alone, scared, anxious, torn, angry and at times homicidal and hear voices and see hallucinations. I fight nicotine addiction, have beaten opiod and meth addiction, faced homelessness and deal with a lot of medical issues. I never give up hope that there will be salvation or an end to this endless, cruel, undying suffering and mental anguish. I hope one day a new antipsychotic medication will be approved for use and will effectively treat me. I tell my mother there is no magic pill. Throughout housing changes, medication changes, provider changes, getting into trouble, family quarrels, and disability, I have remained optimistic my psychosis and mental Illness does not warrant me less rights, doom me to discrimination and stigma or destroy what I love the most about life. Psychiatry is not perfect. I can do this. I will. My depression has lifted much in the past few years, my anxiety was severe and now lessened, but I have these delusional thoughts I am a serviceman, a criminal, a world conquerer, fighting war, a private detective, a CIA agent. As long as there is one thing you truly love, hold onto it and if it loves you back, be forever with it. Never give up. No matter what. Fight till the end. Live. Love. Be. I have never been to jail or prison, I am more orderly, but since living in mental health facilities that have been my home, have gone through much adversity. My desire for grandeur has lessened, the voices less, the fear still intense. Feeling like a prisoner never has to be the answer. Be optimistic. I am severely disabled and I tried so hard. My twenties are grim, my thirties, I don’t know. Somewhere out there is a dream that will come true, a star that shines alone for me, for you, for all humanity. I am not alone. I am loved. I will not end my life. I will not end another’s. Schizophrenia is less a disease than a new view it aspect of this life, a gift.