Hey, tell me, vividnomad2—do you struggle with depression (even just mild bouts) or mood swings? It’s been absolutely wrecking me lately—every single day—and I can't seem to find any way out of this funk. One minute I feel perfectly fine, just cruising along, and then an hour later? Total crash. It’s constant. Honestly, it’s my biggest hurdle right now; I’m perpetually cycling through different therapies and medications trying to get my head straight, but nothing seems to stick.
Hey, I’ve got a question—not just for you, but for anyone else out there who unfortunately ended up with a diagnosis and is stuck on meds. When you’re actually doing "well"—I mean when there aren't any episodes, outbursts, or those other nasty bits—do you truly feel okay? Or can you still sense the "ghost" of the illness lingering inside? For me, personally, I haven't been in a severe state for a while now, but I just can't seem to hit that sweet spot of stability. It’s exhausting. I’ll be fine for maybe two hours in the morning, then my entire afternoon is total garbage, then I'm okay again in the evening, only to have everything go to hell right before bed. I’m talking about that deep, internal sensation. I find myself wondering if that healthy, steady feeling I had before all this started is gone forever—because these mood swings have been dragging on for ages, and despite my doctors constantly tweaking my treatment to try and fix it, nothing works. Because when I say I'm "doing well," I just mean the psychosis has cleared up... but the rest of it...
fadedbear92 said:I was on Lamictal for a long time myself. As long as those antipsychotics keep the schizophrenia under control, that's what really matters—that's a win. Just remember you have to be incredibly disciplined; you can't go skipping doses or, heaven forbid, just stop taking your meds altogether.
Quit my meds? Please. I wouldn't do that even if you paid me. Back before I was hospitalized in 2008, I went without medication for about three weeks—and let me tell you, the absolute chaos happening inside my head was indescribable. It got so bad that when I finally realized I couldn't handle it anymore, I actually called an Uber—because I didn't dare face the public and the ER wouldn't send an ambulance out to me—just to get to the hospital. I was so far gone that the doctor actually sent me to the addiction ward—I suppose he figured someone that crazy couldn't possibly be sober.🙂
Now I'm back on Risperdal as my secondary antipsychotic alongside Zyprexa, and honestly, it fits me perfectly.
Just my luck, picking up all the genetic baggage I definitely didn't ask for!
My sister dealt with mental health issues too, but she managed to pull through completely—she hasn't needed any kind of medication for years now.
Unfortunately, kids tend to get up to all sorts of trouble while they're young—it's just part of the chaos—and those who are a bit more sensitive about it can end up paying the price later in life. Honestly, you should just be grateful you didn't end up pregnant during those wilder years; trust me, that's a whole different kind of headache. I truly hope things work out for you regarding the issues you're facing right now.
So, I’m currently on a regimen of Zyprexa, Risperdal, and Lamictal—and honestly, everything seems to be holding steady, except for one nagging issue: getting out of bed is an absolute uphill battle lately. It's like my body is made of lead in the mornings.
fadedbear92 said:Well, you really are a miracle worker! But why did they switch your meds so many times? Were you dealing with relapses? What's the diagnosis? Personally, I've been battling depression for 14 years—it'll probably be a lifelong thing for me. I started out on Prozac, then moved to Zoloft, and now I'm on Paxil. Basically, my doctors adjust my prescription whenever a depressive episode hits. I also take Tegretol—which is technically an anti-epileptic—but for me, it mostly just helps me get some sleep.
My diagnosis is F20—so, yeah, everyone’s favorite, schizophrenia.🙂They’ve cycled through my prescriptions constantly because even when things weren't "bad" per se (aside from that one stretch back in 2008 when I ended up hospitalized), they just couldn't seem to kill off those intrusive thoughts. They were relentless. Right now, I seem to be doing okay—it looks like they finally stumbled upon a combination that works—though I still deal with those intrusive thoughts, just much more muted. As for me, I'm looking at a lifetime of pills too. But hey, whatever—there are certainly worse ways to go.
p.s. I’ve been down in the trenches of depression myself, so I know how it feels, but thank God, I’ve come out the other side.
wiredfalcon21 said:I suspect you are less of an anomaly and more of a living textbook case for psychiatric misconceptions and a dedicated test subject for pharmacotherapy.
For crying out loud, get serious—psychosis isn't something you joke about for kicks.
I’ve been tethered to medication for eleven years now—eleven long, weary years—and I have cycled through just about every therapeutic option available on the market. We’re talking everything from Zoloft to Risperdal, then Zyprexa, and honestly, the list goes on and on... It is frankly nothing short of miraculous that I haven't experienced a single side effect from any of them—not one. I suppose I’m some kind of statistical anomaly, a total freak of nature. 🙂
I honestly can't say what the differences are—I’ve only ever been to a facility in New York City. I ended up there by my own choice, really, because I had completely lost my grip on reality; I hadn't slept or eaten in what felt like forever, though everything is still a bit of a blur now. My parents were out on vacation at the coast and had absolutely no clue what was happening until I called them from the hospital. Those first two weeks in the ward were easily the hardest part—it felt like a total systemic collapse, as if my very sense of self had just evaporated (it's hard to put into words, honestly)—just constant fear and intrusive thoughts. It was an absolute nightmare. But, looking back, it was a turning point in my life, and now that the dust has settled, I'm doing significantly better than I was in the years leading up to being hospitalized.
I wanted to tell you, Taylor Swift, that I used to think a psychiatric ward was the worst place on earth, too, but it isn't—at least not based on my experience. I actually had a crew there... we'd hang out... grab coffee... laugh. I was lucky enough to be surrounded by some genuinely decent people during my stay. Honestly, if things ever take a turn for the worse again, I wouldn't hesitate to head back there.
p.s. I totally get what you mean about the voices—those thirty minutes when I was hearing them, I thought I was going to lose my mind.
driftinggull21 said:The point isn't about "escaping" from an open ward. As you noted, being in an open unit means you're improving—your symptoms are under control and stabilized. You’re there by choice, and you can leave if you decide treatment isn't necessary for you. If someone manages to flee from a locked psychiatric unit, the police are called to bring them back. This results in involuntary commitment—meaning at least 30 days in a high-security ward where you can't even step out for a coffee or walk around the campus, let alone go home for the weekend. Ultimately, they end up stuck in the hospital much longer than they otherwise would have been.
Back when I was at my unit in New York City, you couldn't even leave on your own terms if you felt you were recovered; everything required a doctor's sign-off. I remember this one guy—he wanted out so badly—but they called in a court-appointed evaluator who, predictably, decided he wasn't fit to leave, so he was forced to stay put.
vividnomad2 said:While there isn't a permanent cure just yet, managing the condition effectively is definitely possible, and that’s really the key. Honestly, just try to imagine what it must be like to live with the constant presence of voices in your head every single day.
What kind of things are you actually hearing on a daily basis? I know this one girl who deals with constant auditory hallucinations, and honestly, my heart just breaks for her. As for me—well, as I mentioned before—I only experienced it for about thirty minutes, and even that brief window was more than enough for me to last a lifetime.
I spent four years smoking weed practically every single day—and let’s be honest, I’ve experimented with just about everything else out there, too—so when you factor in my genetic predisposition, I suppose it isn't exactly a shocker that things ended up this way.
The only thing that really gets under my skin—the part that truly eats at me—is how everyone insists it’s incurable... though, selfishly, I’d love to be the one to prove them wrong and be the first to actually recover from sch🙂
I spent some time over at a facility in Seattle—on a pretty decent ward, actually—and honestly, if you’re in an open unit, getting out isn't the impossible feat people make it out to be; though, if you’re stuck in a locked ward, things get a bit more complicated. They usually move you to the open floor once your condition stabilizes somewhat. On the unit where I stayed, it was mostly younger folks, which made it relatively easy to find someone decent to hang out with—you know how it is—so my experience with the hospital wasn't exactly a nightmare. That said, I’ve heard horror stories about other wards... I just happened to catch a break and land in a good one, so far as I can tell.
I’m not working right now, and look, it’s easy enough to say that while my parents are still here to look after me—but what happens when they’re gone? What happens when my health takes a turn for the worse and I’m physically unable to hold down a job? What then? Besides, even as things stand, I feel like my ability to work is already compromised—mostly because of these intrusive, relentless thoughts that just won't quit.
How about you? Are you working? And what would you say is the absolute worst part of dealing with this whole mess?
Look, having friends is all well and good—you have as many as you have—but I find myself in a similar boat. For some reason—and I honestly can’t quite put my finger on why, though perhaps it’s just a shift in how I process things these days—I actually find it much easier to strike up a conversation with mere acquaintances than with people I'm actually close to. It’s a strange sort of pivot, really.
They say man is a social animal, designed by nature to exist among others, yet there's a massive catch, isn't there? I mean, what exactly would happen if I just walked up to some girl at a Starbucks in downtown Chicago and blurted out that I struggle with schizophrenia? Total disaster, right?🙂
I completely get where you're coming from regarding that tendency to lay low and avoid social circles—believe me, I spent a massive chunk of my life doing the exact same thing—but then, eventually, some new faces drifted into my orbit, and suddenly that whole "social anxiety" issue just... evaporated. Though, I’ll admit, I’m still incredibly selective about who I grab a coffee with; I tend to steer clear of certain crowds whenever possible, but honestly, that feels perfectly healthy to me—you aren't meant to click with every single person you meet, after all.
That period where my old friends walked away from me—and let me tell you, that hit me hard—left a profound mark on my psyche. For the longest time, I couldn't bring myself to get close to anyone new or even attempt to join a different group, despite having plenty of opportunities to do so. Back then, I was just... fragile. Emotionally raw, physically struggling, and frankly, not in the best shape.
If there's one thing that weighs on me, it's the sense that I missed out on certain milestones during my twenties—while everyone else was out at bars in Chicago or hitting the clubs, I was stuck inside, popping pills and fighting these exhausting internal battles entirely on my own. But, I suppose that's just how the cards fell.
Olivia Stewart3 said:My aunt lives with schizophrenia. One day she called me up and said, "You know, your mother is basically a goddess." She started seeing these divine figures, Cleopatra, and all that nonsense during her teenage years.
Is she currently on any medication? It would be quite unsettling if she were experiencing these delusions without the support of her prescription regimen. Does she have anyone looking out for her?
If you’re asking whether my whole persona has shifted—well, yeah, it has. I’ve become significantly more composed, more reserved, if you can call it that—just... quieter. It’s a far cry from how I used to be, back when I was always the first one down for a night out, chasing the next high, looking for some kind of chaos just for the hell of it. I was the life of the party, the guy everyone wanted around. But you see, the moment life actually hits you hard and things go sideways—the moment real trouble finds you—that "circle" of friends? It tends to evaporate into thin air.🙂
Right at the start of my illness—and looking back, I realize this was a massive blunder on my part—I went ahead and told everyone exactly what was going on with me. Big mistake. It cost me every single friend I had. I became a social pariah, stigmatized by people who didn't know how to handle the reality of it, and that stigma left deep scars on how I interact with others today. It made it incredibly difficult to trust anyone, to socialize, or even to find someone I actually liked. Everything shifted, though, after my hospital stay back in 2008. It was like hitting a reset button; I started down an entirely different path, and all those interpersonal struggles just... evaporated. Now, I have a small, tight-knit circle of people close to me, and honestly, that support is everything.
I am truly sorry you're dealing with hearing voices; I know firsthand how unsettling and deeply uncomfortable that experience can be. Have you ever been hospitalized for it? And if you don't mind me asking, how long has this been going on for you?
Hey everyone. So, my diagnosis is F20.0—paranoid schizophrenia. I’ve been navigating this since I was 21, which means I’ve been under medical care for about a decade now. To put it bluntly, I spent a massive chunk of my life stuck in a really dark, unstable state—though, being me, I spent most of that time stubbornly denying anything was actually wrong. Even when I was taking my meds, I was still spiraling. Everything finally hit the fan back in 2008; I lost my job, my girlfriend, and my circle of friends all at once. I just snapped. I ended up checking myself into a psychiatric ward at a facility similar to McLean Hospital, where I stayed for three and a half months. Back then, the symptoms were overwhelming—I was convinced people could communicate through telepathy, so I lived in constant fear that someone would somehow read my mind. I had auditory hallucinations too, though they were brief. Right before I was hospitalized, I spent two weeks just lying in my room with the blinds drawn, refusing to eat... I even convinced myself I was having mental conversations with my upstairs neighbor, thinking we were talking all day long. Looking back now, I can almost find the irony in it and laugh, but at the time—and for quite a while after—it wasn't funny at all. It was terrifying. I have to give credit where it's due, though; the doctors at the hospital really helped get me back on track, and I haven't dealt with any severe episodes in a long time. The only thing still nagging at me are some mild intrusive thoughts. It seems to run in the family, too—my sister struggled with similar issues, and my aunt has been dealing with mental illness for years. I decided to post this because I genuinely appreciate how open and candid everyone is here, so I figured I’d share a bit of my own madness. I know my fellow survivors will get it. Hang in there, guys; stay strong.👍😉