Schizophrenia - General Discussion
in Psychology & Therapy ·
If you aren't planning on actually reading this, just skip it.
My mother has been in treatment for nine years now—four separate stays at the Mayo Clinic—with a schizoaffective diagnosis and bipolar disorder. Every single time she’s admitted, she’s the most difficult patient there; mental illness is always tied to personality, and hers is particularly tough. I was eleven and my sister was twelve when the first episode hit. It started subtly with behavioral shifts, then escalated until—bam—she’d wake up at 3 a.m. arguing with the TV or the radio, breaking things, praying by candlelight, and rambling about spies, cameras, and hallucinations. She even turned on us, claiming we were demons. It was a total collapse. There was this terrifying look in her eyes—like she was staring right through me into the distance. My dad wasn't home because he was working out in the field to keep us afloat, so she had to be involuntarily hospitalized. I won't go into the details of the trauma—these episodes happen every few months, lasting a week or two, followed by medication adjustments or emergency trips to the psych ward—but "normal" life isn't an option here either. Honestly, if you're the type of person asking stupid questions like how LSD interacts with these conditions, or suggesting someone should just "stop taking pills" and toughen up, please stay quiet. You have no idea what this hell looks like, and your comments feel like a joke. I'm already fed up with neighbors and random people acting like experts—and frankly, some psychiatrists seem just as clueless. I think it's harder on the families than the patients; my mother often doesn't even remember much of it, and most people don't realize how impossible it is to remain "normal" under these circumstances. My advice to those struggling is to take your meds consistently and listen to the people around you—they love you. To the families: do everything you can to help them heal (though I suspect that might be impossible), learn to live with it, and remember that you still have your own lives to lead. Also, if you start showing symptoms yourself, see a professional immediately—between genetics and the sheer burnout of caregiving, there's a massive risk.
My mother has been in treatment for nine years now—four separate stays at the Mayo Clinic—with a schizoaffective diagnosis and bipolar disorder. Every single time she’s admitted, she’s the most difficult patient there; mental illness is always tied to personality, and hers is particularly tough. I was eleven and my sister was twelve when the first episode hit. It started subtly with behavioral shifts, then escalated until—bam—she’d wake up at 3 a.m. arguing with the TV or the radio, breaking things, praying by candlelight, and rambling about spies, cameras, and hallucinations. She even turned on us, claiming we were demons. It was a total collapse. There was this terrifying look in her eyes—like she was staring right through me into the distance. My dad wasn't home because he was working out in the field to keep us afloat, so she had to be involuntarily hospitalized. I won't go into the details of the trauma—these episodes happen every few months, lasting a week or two, followed by medication adjustments or emergency trips to the psych ward—but "normal" life isn't an option here either. Honestly, if you're the type of person asking stupid questions like how LSD interacts with these conditions, or suggesting someone should just "stop taking pills" and toughen up, please stay quiet. You have no idea what this hell looks like, and your comments feel like a joke. I'm already fed up with neighbors and random people acting like experts—and frankly, some psychiatrists seem just as clueless. I think it's harder on the families than the patients; my mother often doesn't even remember much of it, and most people don't realize how impossible it is to remain "normal" under these circumstances. My advice to those struggling is to take your meds consistently and listen to the people around you—they love you. To the families: do everything you can to help them heal (though I suspect that might be impossible), learn to live with it, and remember that you still have your own lives to lead. Also, if you start showing symptoms yourself, see a professional immediately—between genetics and the sheer burnout of caregiving, there's a massive risk.