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When Words Escape Me – Schizoaffective Disorder And Written Communication
TW: Mention of suicidal thoughts If you knew me in high school, you would probably have seen me scribbling in a journal or adding another freewrite filled with metaphors to my binder. My computer is full of short notes, poems, essays, and stories. But at a certain point, they stop. The scrawled pages of my journal go blank. The files on my computer run out. With its onset, schizoaffective disorder stole the words from my mind. Words were more than communication or a hobby for me. Words were how I sorted out my thoughts and emotions and how I figured out who I was and who I wanted to be.…
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Another Year Ending – Reflections on Schizoaffective Disorder and 2021
At the end of the month we’ll hear shouts of “Happy New Year!” On that day, I’ll have another year on this earth officially under my belt. Another year older, another year wiser, another year of struggle and change behind me. Happy birthday to me, you survived. Sometimes I wonder how. This last year was another test (but really, aren’t they all?) Panic disorder had me swapping to the passenger seat of my own car. Schizoaffective disorder introduced me to new individuals and voices. And depression had me thinking of actions that I’ve managed to resist for roughly seven years. Don’t worry, I’ve kept up my streak, but it was…
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I’m Fine – The Reasons I Resisted Inpatient Treatment
When I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety, I was in therapy and prescribed medication. I felt like it was my fault. But I was terrified of my suicidal thoughts and self harm, so I mechanically took my medication every night. As my symptoms grew and changed, my medications did as well. By the time I was diagnosed with schizophrenia, I was already on an antipsychotic and a mood stabilizer. I wasn’t sure if they would solve all my problems, but the mechanical motion continued, as did my heavy steps to the therapist’s door. Had I experienced hallucinations prior to starting this regimen, I don’t know if I would have…
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The Right to Feel – How I Stopped Blaming Myself for My Mental Illness
I’ve felt like I don’t have a right to be as broken as I am. I grew up with a loving family. We weren’t wealthy, but I never wanted for necessities. Growing up, the largest trauma I thought I faced was my parents’ amicable divorce. My mom moved several times, remarried, and my brother and I had to change elementary schools, but I actually preferred the new school. I can’t look back and spot significant hardship until high school. Lately, I argue with my psychiatrist – that others have had it worse. That I don’t have a right to feel this emotional turmoil. Yes, I was diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder…
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Why My Recovery from Symptoms of Mental Illness Scares Me
Recovery from mental illness is complicated. Figuring out what recovery will realistically look like is complicated. The actual process of recovery is complicated. And figuring out how you feel about your recovery can be more complicated than others may think. For me, recovery is a lifelong process. Due to the nature of my illnesses, some, if not all, will be with me my entire life. What I’m chasing is stability. And right now, I’m fighting to break free from severe symptoms. It might sound a little ridiculous, but, at this stage, my recovery is full of mixed emotions. I’m excited, but also terrified. In the beginning, things looked bleak. Every…
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The Pressure of Perceived Expectations – Stories from Recovery
Can you feel it? That crushing weight that moves so slowly, pressing you down against the ground, until it’s hard to breathe. Pressure is often the enemy of mental health, and it can come from anywhere – yourself, family, employers, teachers, and even people who aren’t intentionally putting pressure on you. My mind manufactures pressure dressed up in an endless number of ways. Expectations begin like icicles. It starts as just a drip. In high school, people expected me to do well simply because that was my pattern. Academics and athletics came easily, but I quickly began to feel as though it were my job to excel. But when the…
- Anxiety, Depression, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, PTSD, Recovery, Schizoaffective Disorder, Schizophrenia
Mental Illness Stole my Identity – Stories from Recovery
I never thought that I tied my identity to my mental illnesses. I’m more than schizoaffective disorder. Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) is just something I live with. Obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) doesn’t define me. And depression and anxiety are a battle, not my identity. I convinced myself that I am my own true self. But after 13 years of therapy, I’m realizing that I have no idea who I am at all. And it’s nearly ground my recovery to a halt. I preached that I am not my illnesses. I am a person, not a diagnosis. But as we dig into the deepest darkest parts of my mind, I’m realizing that…
- Advocacy, Anxiety, Depression, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, PTSD, Recovery, Schizoaffective Disorder, Schizophrenia
The Right Term – Sensitive, Supportive, and Entirely Personal
Trigger Warning: Talk of Rape/Sexual Assault and Suicide In our efforts to be respectful, caring, and politically correct, we sometimes miss our own biases creeping in, though in a different way. We forget that not everyone thinks the same way, whether you share diagnoses or experiences or not. And in the process, we may be hindering the recovery and growth of others. From organizations and media, we learn the “appropriate” terms and ways to talk to people. But have you ever stopped and wondered if that’s what the individuals want? Person-first vs. identity-first language I am a person with schizoaffective disorder. Advocacy told me that I am not a schizoaffective,…
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What facing my trauma really looks like
Trigger Warning: Mention of sexual assault/rape and suicidal ideation Don’t let him rule your life. Everyone who offered those words meant it in support. I told myself I could do it. I tried. But when the man who sexually assaulted you moves into your apartment building, it’s going to have an impact. The trauma became inescapable. It felt like an invasion of privacy. I felt safe in our location. It was a fair distance from where I last knew of that he lived as well as being away from where he and I lived together. For me this was a new city, new space, new outlook on life. The building…
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Irrational and Unreasonable – Why You Don’t Have To Understand My Anxiety
My fate is resting in my hands. If I make the wrong choice, my entire life could fall apart. My nerves chatter with anxiety and it wraps itself around my throat. I can’t make this decision. It’s too important and I’m sure I’ll make the wrong choice. So I turn to my boyfriend and ask the question – “Which of these shirts should I wear today?” It sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it? It is. It’s irrational. It’s unreasonable. And I am fully aware of that. Logically, I know that the world will not explode if I wear the wrong shirt. Is there even a right or wrong shirt for a Saturday…