When All You Can Do Is Try
Receiving a diagnosis of schizophrenia or schizoaffective disorder is life changing. It can turn your entire world upside down. I would love to tell you that I’ve always handled my diagnosis and living with schizoaffective disorder with dignity and grace, but that’s just not the case. Despite my ability to articulate what I’ve been through, I don’t have myself entirely together all the time. I would like to believe that I do, but I don’t. I’ve been bitter, I’ve been angry, and I’ve been in denial. It’s feelings not unlike that which some people with diagnoses of other chronic illnesses or terminal illnesses go through. I used to try to hide it, but I’ve learned that being open about it is more important.
When I received my diagnosis, I was scared
I was afraid of the stigma. I was afraid of the symptoms I was already having and terrified of the ones to come. I’ve cried from fear on more than one occasion. And I still experience fear when it comes to symptoms like hallucinations. I want so badly to believe that I have this fully under control. We do the best that we can, but sometimes, like right now, symptoms still break through. It doesn’t matter that I’ve been living with schizoaffective disorder for almost 12 years, I’m still afraid sometimes.
I went through a strange period of both accepting and denying that I needed help
During the first two years of my illness, I would accept just enough help. I took my medication and went to therapy, all the while denying myself help that would be visible to other people, like inpatient treatment. I’m not sure how many of my classmates in high school noticed the shift in my attitude and abilities from junior year to senior year. I felt like I had no idea what I was doing, but I gave myself very little opportunity to figure it out. I tried to hide it from the world, but I’m not sure I was all that successful in that endeavor. Perhaps if I had been more accepting and more patient with myself, I would have seen more rapid improvement in my mental health. But I wasn’t ready for that yet.
I’ve been bitter on more occasions than I’d like to admit
Over the years I’ve gone through times where I mourned the loss of my life prior to schizoaffective disorder. Sometimes I would feel bitter about things that I missed out on – like what I considered a normal college life. I hated that I didn’t get to experience all of the things my peers did. I was so angry at my medications and this disease. And I was angry at what I felt like it stole from me. I was angry at myself for not being able to control it more. Sometimes I hated the person it made me – anxious, stumbling over words, unable to keep up with academics or even just conversation sometimes. But the hate never changed anything.
Even after I went public with my disorder, there was still a part of me that just wanted to pretend that I had it all under control
I could speak about my experiences with outward confidence, but inside, I was trying to hide. My vulnerability terrified me. Until recently, I liked to gloss over my high school and college struggles. In all honesty, it’s only been within the last five years that I’ve even allowed myself to be truly vulnerable and painfully open in therapy, and, more recently, with the public.
I would love to tell you that I’ve got it all figured out, but I think it’s more important to be honest with both myself and others
This is the real me – the perfectionist who is entirely imperfect. I’m still bitter and afraid sometimes. There are still times where I catch myself trying to act like I’ve got everything under control. Sometimes I’m a hypocrite. I’ll tell others to put their needs first and be patient with themselves when I’ve struggled with doing the same. But I’m working on it. I’m trying to be more open and honest. I try to let go of the anger and bitterness when I feel it rising in my chest. And I try to treat myself with the same patience, love, and respect that I offer others. Which, for me, is incredibly difficult. But I’m trying.
If you are out there feeling like you are struggling with emotions surrounding your diagnosis, you are not alone. For the people who are just as frustrated and distraught and confused about the situation of a loved one with mental illness, you are not alone. When someone is diagnosed with a mental illness like schizophrenia or schizoaffective disorder, whether you’re the person who was diagnosed or their loved one, you may not know what the rest of your life is going to look like, and that can be terrifying. I’m 12 years in, and I still don’t know. Sure I’m on a good path with treatment that works and a high level of insight, but there are still times where all I can do is try to get through the day. I’ve learned a great deal from life with schizoaffective disorder, but quite possibly the most important thing I’ve learned is that sometimes the only thing you can do is try.
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