Hey everyone, I just wanted to drop in to see how you all are doing and catch up on what's new. My experience might not be identical to yours, but I’ve walked a similar path, dealing with bouts of psychosis triggered by organic causes—basically, physiological irregularities in the brain. It makes you wonder if everyone struggling with mental health issues is experiencing something similar that we just can't capture on an MRI yet, because it stems from something science hasn't fully mapped out. In my view, the brain of someone with these conditions is fundamentally different; after all, it’s capable of triggering such intense shifts in emotion and temperament, ranging from overwhelming pain that makes you want to give up on life to an indescribable euphoria that makes you feel like you're flying.
It’s fascinating how many questions science and medicine still can't answer, even while society continues to apply stigmas and try to pigeonhole mental illnesses into neat little categories.
I've personally tried Haloperidol and Clozaril, along with about 20 different antidepressants and various other medications, though I've taken fewer antipsychotics compared to the rest.
Jason Kim6 said:Why do I think they're compliments? If someone tells you that you're an interesting person, that's—I guess—a compliment. Being interesting is fine. But what does being interesting actually matter if your life isn't going well? It might be better to just be totally ordinary and uninteresting—just average—but have luck (health) and actual satisfaction in life. As for why I couldn't be a genius—it's because I haven't actually invented anything (that doesn't mean I haven't had ideas that I can't execute—like, say, building a machine to read thoughts, since thoughts are basically silent speech and physical movements of the speech apparatus—if you could record that, you could read minds; or how we'll eventually watch movies in newspapers and things like that). Castrated in what sense? That’s a long story. Anyway—someone might think I'm stupid just because I'm not social, or because I express myself too simply. "If intelligence is beautiful, then I want to be beautiful: the new Mr. Complex Sentence." Intelligence doesn't necessarily have to be beautiful; it can be quite destructive. And there are different types of intelligence. For instance, I try to avoid complex sentences. But does that mean someone who uses complicated sentences—clumsily, barely finishing a thought—is intellectually superior to me? Or are they just muddled? Castration literally means removing external organs—removing testicles. But it also means destroying their function. So, a man could still be castrated even if he technically has them. There is also a metaphorical sense to it. Incapacity. I am prevented from everything. (There are other things I might mention later)...
Sure, let's have the genius, the complexity, the interest, and the beauty... sure, let's have artistic expression through words... sure, let's have it all... when at the end of the day, we're all just sick. Maybe being average is just another word for being normal.
wanderingmoose13 said:Do you have any help? I really hope you aren't trying to tackle this all on your own. Please, don't turn your back on therapy. Seriously, just give it a chance.
You mentioned that your psychiatrist actually noted how complex and interesting you are. Honestly, that’s such a good sign—it means they’re actually listening to you and truly engaging with what you have to say!
They were trying to do the best they could for you. At the end of the day, doctors aren't gods. They did everything within their power. You really need to find a way to let go of this anger. Instead of draining your energy and wasting precious time being furious, try focusing on anything that might actually improve your current situation. Holding onto this is only hurting you.
That’s where you're wrong; that's exactly my issue—forgiving and making excuses for everyone... saying they didn't know or couldn't help. But they never look at themselves and admit they messed up, and it wasn't your fault. You have every right to be angry. Express your rage. You deserve that.
Exactly. Just vent all those emotions and that rage toward her in a private message, because usually, something just ends up being a trigger, unfortunately. Look, my psychiatrist practically convinced me I was schizophrenic—then they threw in psychosis, then schizoid personality traits... honestly, give me a break. They drugged me into taking Lexapro and basically insisted I was insane. I ended up being institutionalized three different times. On top of that, this psychologist and my boyfriend would sit there lecturing me about how much I was "suffering" from this supposed illness, telling me how hard things were for *them* because of me and how everything was my fault. I felt like absolute garbage. No matter what I did or didn't do, it was never right. They always found something wrong with me. They made me feel crazy.
It’s true, I wasn't exactly the most typical person, but I never meant harm to anyone. And I don't know what else I could have done to avoid being drugged and locked up in a psych ward. I was suffering immensely from stupors, paralysis, exhaustion, vision issues, confusion, and sometimes depression... not to mention all the other things I won't even list.
Meanwhile, I am actually physically ill, dealing with brain lesions and a confirmed diagnosis of MS from the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services.
So what am I supposed to do? I feel like killing that guy; the hatred I feel every single day is intense. And the anger toward all those doctors is just as bad.
I just want to run away somewhere and scream at the top of my lungs. I'm boiling with rage and frustration.
I still feel like an object. Like a picture on a wall. Nothing more.
I don't know what the path to someone's heart looks like... All I know is that people won't stop staring, and it is incredibly irritating. It's just like how they assume I'm much younger than I actually am; I realize that might sound strange to some, but...
My appearance has granted me certain privileges, sure, but more often than not, it has just caused problems in my life. Even now, while dealing with an illness, I'm attending psychotherapy sessions at the hospital, and all the psychiatrist sees is my physical appearance. They have no interest in how I actually feel or what I'm going through internally...
wanderingmoose13, you’re asking if I exercise... Well, I’ve gone through quite a lot of physical therapy over the years, sometimes with assistance and sometimes on my own. I spent many months confined to a wheelchair. Since undergoing venous therapy, things have improved slightly; I can walk using a cane, though it's slow and repetitive. The MS makes me feel constantly exhausted. Some days are better than others, but there are those brutal days where you can't even make it to the bathroom—you're basically just vegetating. Most patients living with MS also struggle with severe depression and mood swings. For me, those issues were intense at the beginning, but they've leveled out. Now, it's more of a deep sadness whenever I can't get up. I feel far too young for this. My whole life was supposed to be ahead of me.
This disease is incredibly deceptive. It’ll throw you a curveball where you suddenly feel better and think, "Okay, maybe things are finally stabilizing," only to drag you right back down to rock bottom.
I've actually decided to stop taking the medications for now. I can't handle the side effects anymore, and I reached the maximum dosage a long time ago.
If you think Seroquel or Haldol are the absolute worst, trust me—I’ve been through them. I was on those every three weeks for about a year and a half, so I know.
Compared to what I’m taking now for my MS, those felt like a soothing balm.
And honestly, what good is being attractive if there isn't a man willing to actually be there for me? Being sick changes everything. People look at me and they only want one thing, but nobody seems to care about wanting to share a life, give me a hug, or help me when things get heavy. What is beauty even worth then? It feels like a curse; no one bothers to get to know who I really am as a person.
I’ve been seeing a therapist as part of my treatment, and even my psychiatrist—who didn't see me until five months in—told me that I’m such a complex and interesting person, but that nobody sees it because they're too distracted by my looks.
I'm going to try to get some sleep. Goodnight, everyone.
Hi everyone. I’ve been reading through your posts because I feel like I know most of you by now after being active here, and I wanted to check in to see how you’re doing and what's happening lately.
It seems to me that most people dealing with schizophrenia have roots in family amnesia or environmental stressors like work and relationship issues. Well, I fall into that category too. Even though I don't actually have SCHIZOPHRENIA—that diagnosis was just slapped on me a year and a half ago.
My actual diagnosis is G35 Multiple Sclerosis. I was misdiagnosed as a psychiatric patient and ended up being hospitalized in mental health wards three separate times. My initial symptoms presented as psychological issues, like disorientation and paralysis, and it wasn't until I lost the ability to walk and control my bladder that they finally looked at me from a neurology standpoint.
An MRI showed numerous brain lesions, and a lumbar puncture confirmed the MS diagnosis.
So, how am I feeling? Am I better off because I'm not a "schizophrenic" but just someone dealing with the nonsense of MS?...
I deal with frequent blackouts, emotional distress caused by the brain lesions, and memory problems. On top of that, I have issues with my vision, and I recently had to use a cane (I was out of a wheelchair for three months using it). Plus, I'm on IV medications that make me constantly nauseous and vomit.
And yes, even though people tell me I'm beautiful, I have this "gift," though it feels useless right now. Honestly, I don't have a job because I'm unable to work, I can't finish my second degree or my PhD, and I don't have a partner. I essentially have nothing. I spent Christmas just sleeping through the day.
Every single night, just like tonight as I'm heading to bed, I find myself wondering what tomorrow will bring. Will I be able to feel my legs? What's next? This disease truly has a thousand faces.
I can't speak to specific diagnostic codes, but you might be thinking of schizophrenia. In my case, I dealt with paralysis, muscle spasms, tremors, sleep issues, and trouble walking—it was all pretty chaotic. It looked like a mental health crisis to outsiders, but once the physical symptoms intensified, my doctors at the Mayo Clinic confirmed it wasn't psychiatric; it was strictly neurological. Naturally, my first reaction was pure, unadulterated fury toward the mental health professionals involved. How could they make such a massive oversight? That kind of mistake is no small thing.
I have no idea what an F20 diagnosis is; I don't know where you got that from or what it's supposed to mean. I've been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis.
Of course I spent three weeks in the hospital undergoing an exhaustive battery of tests—everything from CT scans and X-rays to MSCT, VEP, EMG, EEMG, and BERA, followed by MRIs and a lumbar puncture. There were plenty of other diagnostics too, but I won't list them all here. The lumbar puncture itself wasn't nearly as painful as people lead you to believe, but the recovery process is honestly pretty brutal. You have to stay completely still for a day or two, and once that's over, you're hit with an unbearable headache. The procedure involves drawing cerebrospinal fluid, and then you're stuck waiting about two or three weeks for the results to come back.
How am I holding up? That’s a tough question. Every single day feels like a gamble. Some days are manageable, while others... well, there are days when I just wish I didn't have to deal with any of this. Since it affects the neurological system, it manifests through both physical and psychological symptoms, and there is no cure. There aren't really "pills" for this—there isn't a real cure, other than steroids which just temporarily dull the symptoms before you're left waiting to see what hits you next. I'm honestly at a loss for words.
How am I holding up through all of this? To be honest, after receiving my diagnosis and everything I've been through... I’ve never felt worse. Most of the time I’m struggling, even if it doesn't show on the surface because I’ve learned to value life and every single moment more deeply. I don't get worked up as easily; in fact, I rarely lose my temper now. I've started cutting people out—well, I already have—specifically those who negatively impact my mental health. Some people even walked away from me once they found out I was sick.
I have to admit, I often struggle with sleep because of the anxiety. I lack a solid support system and true understanding. I’m seeing a therapist, but I haven't been able to establish a deep enough emotional connection to really help me move forward.
Honestly, I don't even know what to tell you all; this is hell. Navigating this entire process has been physically exhausting, and the mental toll is beyond words. This will leave lasting scars on my heart. They might heal slightly over time, but the marks will remain, and I will never be the same person again.
At first, I honestly thought this was all in my head. I felt exhausted, my walking felt heavy, and I had these strange mental lapses—almost like paralysis. It felt like everything was happening without any external trigger; nothing in my daily life was intense enough to throw me off balance like that. One minute I’d be walking fine, and the next, my brain would just shut down or I'd black out. Because I couldn't find an outside cause, I ended up seeking help through psychiatric care.
Then things took a turn for the worse. I collapsed and ended up in neurology, where they ran an exhaustive battery of tests—MRIs, spinal taps, EMGs, EEGs, you name it. That’s when they finally gave me the MS diagnosis.
I never once suspected I was dealing with MS or anything like it. To be honest, it was a total shock, and frankly, it still hits me hard every single day. On top of everything, the steroids I'm taking to manage it have started damaging my liver, and I'm also dealing with vision issues from neuritis.
Listen, I have an interesting story to share with you all. I was being treated for schizophrenia, which led to me being prescribed Haldol and Seroquel, along with a long list of other medications and several hospitalizations.
In the end, it turns out I actually have Multiple Sclerosis. I don't have schizophrenia or any mental illness; I have lesions on my brain. That's just how things work in the States—they'll tell you something is normal when it's clearly not.
Hello everyone, I have been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis and am currently on a course of corticosteroids, though I really should be starting interferon. The problem is that Medicare won't approve the interferon until a full year has passed since my diagnosis, and by then, the damage might already be done. I could easily go abroad and get access to it immediately. Honestly, I'm torn—I'm worried about the side effects, but I also wonder if I can truly trust this medication or if I should just risk going without it. Does anyone have any advice?
Another acute flare-up... my medication dosage has been doubled. I'm not sure what to expect now, though I suppose hopefully I'll just sleep more and that'll be that. I can't help but wonder when I'll finally wake up from this nightmare.
My days all feel pretty much the same. The only real difference is how many hours I sleep through or how many pills I end up taking. Honestly, I lost myself a long time ago. I don't even recognize the person staring back at me in the mirror anymore.
How can my situation actually change? For a long time now, things have just been spiraling downward and I can't find a way out. It feels like I'm suffocating, like I'm gasping for air... I'm fading away. This feeling is stronger than I am; there’s nothing left to do but wait or hold onto hope. This "undershirt" has become my second skin, and I simply can't peel it off.
My situation is steadily declining, and it feels like it's just heading downhill from here. My appetite is disappearing, and I have zero energy to sleep or even go out. Most days, I just manage to shower, take my medication, and pass out. I've actually been hospitalized twice more in the meantime. They’ve increased my dosage and changed my treatment plan entirely. I don't think I'm going to make it much longer.