I was once asked if I self-medicated after the onset of my mental illness. The answer? Yes, but not with drugs or alcohol. It wasn’t my clarity or control over my mind that bothered me the most when schizoaffective disorder hit me like a bus. I wasn’t ready to deal with those yet. What I mourned the most was the loss of the ease of academics, the ability to eat anything but stay skinny, and some level of innate athletic ability – the things that others could see. I felt robbed. It felt like I was worth less without those things. And since then, they’ve held roles as both ways…