Yeah... I don't see anything particularly new happening here. It's true that antipsychotics cause weight gain, but mental health definitely takes priority over aesthetics. That said, I think you could probably lower your dosage without it being an issue. I've been managing my own dosages for almost as long as I can remember. If I took the exact amount prescribed, I'd basically be a zombie all the time. Honestly, I don't know how anyone is expected to actually live while on these medications. It’s just pure sedation—you can't remember anything, you lose all sense of presence, and then when the effects wear off, you're left wondering what you even did while you were drugged up.
Since I've already experienced stopping my treatment before, those old thoughts are creeping back in because I just can't handle this vegetative existence. You need your brain to work for school or just to function, but AP makes you so drowsy.
The real question is whether I want to live hearing voices in my head with high cognitive function, or if I'll take the meds and become a shell of a person who can barely manage basic tasks.
Harold Anderson3 once mentioned that John Nash didn't take his medication. I'm going to give things a little more time, but if nothing changes, I might just have to make peace with the voices.
Yeah... I don't see anything particularly new happening here. It’s true that antipsychotics cause weight gain, but mental health should always come before aesthetics. That said, I think you could probably lower your dosage without everything falling apart. I've been managing my own dosages for almost as long as I can remember. If I took the full milligram amount prescribed, I'd basically be a zombie all day. I honestly don't know how they expect people to actually live while on these medications. It’s like being in a vegetative state—you can't remember anything, you lose your sense of self, and then when the effects wear off, you're left wondering what you even did while you were drugged up.
Since I've dealt with stopping my therapy before, those thoughts are starting to creep back in. I just can't handle this vegetative existence; you need a functioning brain to work, to study, to do anything at all, but the AP meds just turn you into a sleepwalker.
The real question is whether I want to live hearing voices in my head while staying cognitively sharp, or if I'll take the pills and become a shell of a person who struggles to complete basic tasks.
Harold Anderson3 mentioned once that John Nash didn't take his medication. I'm going to give things a little more time, but if nothing changes, I might just have to learn to live with the voices.
When you’re pushed to the edge and forced to confront who you truly are, you finally tap into parts of yourself that remain dormant during a comfortable, happy life. That kind of suffering can actually be a catalyst for growth. It breaks you out of societal norms and allows you to perceive and process things that most people never experience. Most people don't have the necessity to struggle, to create, or to push themselves beyond just meeting basic expectations. Someone in this position sees further; they hear the echoes of the world differently and experience reality through a much more profound lens.
I appreciate the support. I'm honestly not sure what my next move is regarding my health. I don't really trust doctors—I've only ever trusted one—and I'm not sure if there's a way to request a specific specialist. He understands me; no one else does.
It isn't exactly fantastic because it makes you feel like the life you're living isn't even real. It turns your entire past into a question mark and leaves the future feeling hollow. You start wondering if you actually want to inhabit your own body or just exist as a stranger to yourself. When you feel alienated like that, life loses its purpose. Life is built on those tiny, fleeting moments, but what happens if you can't actually experience them? It’s like watching a boring movie where you already know the ending, so you just want to shut it off—except then you feel like shutting off life itself.
So, it really isn't wonderful; it's actually quite terrifying. At times, it feels incredibly dull, lonely, and deeply sad. To be honest, I can't tell if it's just me or the medication. I'd say my sense of self is being blended with the drugs, and they're the ones driving these feelings. The side effects are just... soul-crushing...
Harold Anderson3, you’re drinking alongside the AP and AD, right? I assume you aren't picking up any depression from it, though... I know how that goes. Has anyone else dealt with depersonalization from medication? I experience it quite frequently. Sometimes it hits hard, then it settles down a bit. It feels like I'm watching a movie—as if my soul has detached from my body and I'm observing everything from the side or from some height above. Honestly, you don't feel much; it's more like your emotions are outside of you and unreachable, making the whole "movie" seem pointless and meaningless. Eventually, you don't even want to return to your body once you realize how hopeless it all feels.
If someone denies they're experiencing hallucinations, they won't be forcibly hospitalized. Basically, involuntary commitment only happens if a psychiatrist observes the hallucinations firsthand or if the individual admits to them.
You left a lovely tribute for John Nash Diego... He truly earned it.
People, please watch out for superstition; it’s just a synonym for ignorance. There is so much that can be dangerous... I find myself wondering if it's dangerous to avoid therapy. Ultimately, I’ve concluded that the only true danger is death, because that is the great unknown. Everything else? "Danger" is entirely subjective. Is it dangerous to experience psychosis? Or is it more dangerous to be dead from medications that strip away everything and destroy my potential? Of course, everyone should seek therapy and treatment instead of pretending they have it all figured out. Let's be realistic—life is harsh, and we know how it works. But when we discuss psychiatry and the human brain... we are still dealing with a massive mystery regardless of how much research is done. There are too many question marks and assumptions. It’s too much for someone like me. Between something and nothing, I’d rather choose nothing. I struggle with doubt, with thoughts, and with reality itself. And, truthfully, I embrace pain to some extent. We are born in pain and we die in pain, even if that pain is internal. I realize this sad truth: I cannot live without pain. Pain is my reality; it is part of who I am. When I don't feel it, I don't feel much of anything.
Pain pushes me to push my boundaries, even if those boundaries sometimes lead toward psychosis. That specific moment when the limits shift and my horizons expand... that moment is worth it, even if it means my life is shorter.
For instance, if I had cancer, I wouldn't go through chemo. I would rather have a shorter, fuller life than fight against something that is going to kill me eventually anyway. But everyone is entitled to their own perspective and the way they choose to live. We don't all want the same things.
Things have taken a turn for the worse again, naturally... dealing with hospitals and all sorts of medications, and now the struggle of missing doses is starting to trigger psychotic symptoms because my stress levels have hit a breaking point. I just can't handle even the slightest bit of pressure right now.
I don't know... life for patients dealing with mental illness is pure suffering and torment, and honestly, only those living through it truly understand. There are so many days when the desire to just be dead—to have none of this exist anymore—is overwhelming.
The sun shines differently now; the light hits everything more beautifully... it spills over into colors I didn't even know existed. And the food... oh, the food... it’s so incredibly rich. All those flavors I could never have imagined or sensed before are finally here. Sometimes I just laugh at everything, almost as if none of it ever happened—even though it was always there, I just couldn't experience it until now. Even the silly chirping of a bird outside my window... I don't know if I'm dreaming or how long this will last... I don't ever want to go back to medication again...
Diego and I used to deal with me getting acute gastritis; I know exactly how awful that feels.
I’ve stopped taking my medication... has anyone else ever quit their meds? Everything feels different now—even the air feels different. I don't have those surreal sensations or that total numbness that comes and goes depending on how much antipsychotics are circulating in my bloodstream at any given moment. It’s harder, though. Much harder. Everything actually hurts; the pain is real, and reality just hits you right where it counts... but everything feels so vivid and alive. Before, I was basically a zombie. I don't know—I realize my current state without medication won't last forever because, given the illness, I won't be able to sustain this indefinitely... but have any of you tried experiencing what it's like to be free from that chemical fog? Even if you were dealing with psychosis at the time.
While I was in the hospital, I was also taking Lennon. It left me feeling so numb and foggy; I just couldn't sleep, and I had zero motivation. I was prescribed a continuation of my treatment when I got home, but I haven't been taking it... I’m just exhausted by the whole chemical cycle. There aren't many medications left that I haven't tried, and it's always the same story: brutal side effects mixed in with the actual illness. Sometimes I honestly wonder which part of my state is the medication and which part is actually me. It's hard to tell them apart. The days didn't just pass—weeks, months, years vanished. I wasn't really "there" anymore. It was just a cycle of chemicals and the shifts they caused; I could practically predict my next mood based on which pill I had swallowed. Swallowing painkillers like they're candy has become my new normal. They help dull the pain. I know it's not good... but it's the only way I can keep going.
I was at Mayo Clinic... it was incredibly self-destructive... unfortunately, I was the worst case on the ward. I am completely shattered; I’ve hit rock bottom. I don't even know if it can get any lower. It feels profoundly dark, gloomy, and lonely here. There is nothing and no one. Death is present here. I am dead. My very sense of self is gone. After everything that has happened, I feel worse than ever before.
I'm scared. I truly admire everyone who has managed to recover, but I honestly don't think I'll be one of those success stories. I just went through a hospitalization, and since my medication still isn't quite right, all the symptoms are still hitting me hard.
They certainly aren't the kind of people anyone wants to share a life, a career, or anything else with. It’s viewed as a defect rather than a trait—we can say that for certain. That is why I keep it hidden; I wouldn't dream of mentioning it to anyone because I know how people would react. They would distance themselves from me, assuming I am unstable or dangerous. It all comes down to human prejudice. People lack understanding, they jump to conclusions, and there isn't much one can do to change that mindset.
New Yorker.... If you're curious about that rigid, frozen state where you just stand there motionless for hours... basically becoming a statue... I can tell you what that's like because I went through a pretty intense period of it myself. Out of nowhere, I’d just freeze mid-motion in some bizarre posture, as if something inside me suddenly snapped and left me unable to move. I’d fight it internally, telling myself I had to move, but I just couldn't. Later on, I'd realize that I actually felt nothing—not my body, not my spirit, nothing at all. It was like watching the world from another planet. I could hear and follow everything happening around me, but I wasn't really *there*. I wasn't present. And even though those positions were objectively uncomfortable, they didn't bother me one bit; in fact, they were the only thing I could manage. Just standing still. The episodes lasted anywhere from an hour to two full days. Fortunately, those freezes are behind me now.
Ladiomil, I think I’ve tried that approach... personally, those depressive phases just don't click with me. I try to snap myself out of it, just like you suggested, but I end up exhausted almost immediately. Then I'm right back to doing absolutely nothing... just total emptiness. So far, none of the medications have actually solved this for me. I just don't know...
Does anyone know of an effective Ad that can be taken alongside AP? Something to help with those depressive phases... I've tried a ton of them, but nothing seems to work. Harold Anderson3, what are you taking?
Another day, another new medication added to the mix... I am honestly fed up with all these drugs. It feels like Friday the 13th. I'm exhausted; I just woke up from passing out on the Heleks... I don't feel like doing anything at all.