Posts by fadedlynx96

Harold Anderson3 said:Yeah, everyone at the hospital knew about it. You wouldn't believe it, but in a way, my episode was actually tied to what was happening with Ivo Sanders, since it all went down right before he resigned from office. But it wasn't quite the way I imagined it—it wasn't like he stepped down because of me. My doctor even told me early on that I wasn't doing well because I was actually embracing my psychotic phase as if it were some sort of positive milestone in my life.
A huge part of my psychosis was also rooted in religious themes; I was convinced people were coming to crucify me and that the whole thing was being filmed and broadcast on national TV.
I remember lying out on the road in the middle of the sun, arms spread wide and legs tucked in, just starting to scream like Jesus. When I finally sat up and looked down at my forearms, they were glowing red... those were my very first hallucinations.
It seems like a lot of people deal with religious-based psychosis, regardless of whatever faith they follow.

The only thing I can't wrap my head around is how you managed to stay for six months. I was only there for three, and even then, I was the longest-staying patient there. Nobody stayed longer than me, despite the fact that I knew some others had much harder cases—though, of course, that "knowledge" is about as reliable as any other psychiatric patient's opinion.

To be honest, I kept most of my symptoms and issues to myself; I barely told the psychiatrists anything. It wasn't until the end that I started talking to the staff, who didn't bother passing anything along to the doctors.

What was particularly surreal—call it crazy, weird, or whatever you want—was that I never told anyone I thought I was Jesus and was going to be crucified, yet several patients over at the Queens facility actually came up to me and recognized me as such. The psychiatrist wasn't anywhere near them, unless he was being incredibly good at keeping secrets. That was when things really spiraled for me, because if other people also see me as Jesus, then there's truly no hope left.

In the beginning, things were much more difficult; everything felt like an issue, and I would misinterpret every single hospital instruction as something being directed against me. As usual, I was argumentative about the medication, demanding to see exactly what I was being given and why. They even handed me the medical paperwork, so I started trying to cross-reference the injections with the written descriptions. I couldn't manage to compare two simple words to see if they matched, likely due to the meds or the psychosis itself. Still, nothing stumped me quite like reading something in the office that said, "only patients with leave privileges may go to reincarnation..." It was almost certainly meant to say "recreation," but I was convinced it meant reincarnation, which served as definitive proof to me that they wanted to kill me so they could drag me off into some reincarnation process I didn't even believe in.

Otherwise, I wasn't a problem in terms of acting out, lying on floors or tables, or getting into fights—maybe just a little bit regarding the meds. I did have a recurring urge to set fire to every place I was in, but since I never had matches or a lighter, the idea never materialized (and I doubt the doctor would have appreciated the attempt). I don't mean setting a room on fire just for the sake of it, but rather as a way to make my exit.

Harold Anderson3 said:I'd really like to take a moment to clarify things from my own point of view.
There is a massive difference between knowing something intellectually and actually feeling it in your gut. You can use logic to fight against what you "know," but when it comes to what you truly feel, there isn't much of a defense.
After my worst psychotic episode, I ended up spending six months in a psychiatric facility. Things started looking up slowly, but even after I was discharged, I couldn't quite shake this lingering sensation that someone was watching me—as if people back in my hometown "knew" I had some sort of connection to Ivo Sanders’s resignation, even though I knew deep down that just wasn't true. A while later, I landed a job at a Whole Foods, and that feeling resurfaced; I felt like the police were tracking my movements, almost nudging my life in a positive direction, though in reality, I don't think anyone actually cared where I was or what I was doing. Maybe if I had been on a higher dose of medication, that paranoia would have completely vanished, but then I probably wouldn't have been able to hold down a job or function like a normal person. That seems to be the delicate balancing act a psychiatrist has to perform: prescribing medication that isn't so weak that the illness prevents you from living, yet isn't so strong that the drugs themselves take away your ability to operate in the world. Sometimes, unfortunately, even the smallest necessary dose feels too heavy, and you can see it written all over a person's face, in their movements, and in the way they speak.

Looking back now, I realize just how fortunate I was to make it through those three months spent in American hospitals.

So, have you actually decided to tell your little story about Ivo Sanders to your psychiatrist yet, or are you still holding onto it?

I find myself wondering how my own experience compares to this situation. In my case, I was fully aware that I wasn't Jesus, yet everyone else seemed convinced otherwise and was determined to pin the entire crisis on me. I kept that realization to myself when speaking with the psychiatrists, mostly because I was terrified they might accidentally—or intentionally—leak that information to the rest of the team, who were already looking for any excuse to scapegoat me, which is a perfectly rational fear when you realize people are just waiting for an opening to throw you under the bus.

I find myself wondering if I would have been better off keeping my mouth shut. Perhaps I might have managed to stick it out for another few months had I stayed silent, just long enough to be certain that nobody was planning to pin the crisis on me, though one can never truly be sure of such things.

William Evans10 said:I don't recall you mentioning that to me...

How long did that "torment"—that psychosis—last before they finally found the right therapy for you?

And how are your children doing? Your daughter? 🙂

The bolded question—is that something you expect an answer to or not?

For me, the struggle lasted over two months, and even toward the end, when I thought things were stabilizing, my wife walked into the room—someone I was certain was going to be the death of me, a point I've elaborated on previously. I didn't lash out at her by sheer coincidence, simply because she said something that led me to conclude she wasn't actually a threat, so I held back and didn't ask why she was pretending to be.

Even after being discharged from the hospital, there were still smaller issues lingering for several months, though everything seemed to subside once I stopped the medication, roughly a year after it all began; those first two months were undoubtedly the worst part.

The kids are fine, mostly without any issues, and everything is stable. Thanks for asking.

William Evans10 said:It might seem funny now... but reading through the rest of it, and there is certainly a lot to read... I believe that in the exact moment it is happening, it is terrifying and frightening, truly terrifying..

Thank God that is all behind you now... and seriously, kudos to you for making it through!🙂

But living like that... I imagine it is a total catastrophe. Constant fear, worries, theories, conspiracies... just awful. Omg, I would never want to go through that.

And when was the last time something like that happened?
Why is everyone an "enemy" or "evil"?
Isn't it a bit strange in situations like that (psychosis), that it feels like absolutely everyone is against you?
I'm not talking specifically about you right now, just in general...
Isn't it odd that it feels like everyone has conspired together to cause harm?

The last time was twenty years ago during a psychotic episode, and it was a single occurrence.

As for why everyone seems malicious, I don't know; that is simply how the illness functions. Someone else might experience a different type of psychosis where things manifest differently. My case was characterized by hebephrenia toward the end, following paranoia.

There is nothing unusual about psychosis; I didn't just think everything was that way, I knew it as an absolute fact. There are no limits to madness, and you can become convinced of anything, and no one, absolutely no one, will be able to talk you out of it—which is perhaps why they officially call it a "severe psychotic episode."

To be fair, there were a few people I actually trusted, but they weren't around during the critical moments, which of course served as further proof that they had been eliminated, imprisoned, or whatever else happened.

Even looking back, I wasn't satisfied with the treatment I received. I believe it could have been handled much more effectively and in a far shorter timeframe, starting with the basic symptoms that could have been explained early on instead of waiting months for medications that failed to work while the condition continued to spiral.

One of the primary struggles was the constant expectation that someone would come for me, either to take me away or to kill me. You start checking the locks just to ensure no one can get in, or rather, to make sure no one can slip in while you are trying to leave. Some of those irrational ideas were direct consequences of being confined to a closed space. I know there have been studies on lab animals that showed similar results, though the research hasn't been formally recognized, and when I cited that, it was treated as just more evidence of my psychosis. I heard recently that there is scientific evidence showing that solitary confinement is devastating for mental health, which is why it is supposed to be avoided today.

William Evans10 said:Haha... sorry, but this shower story is just too funny to me...(REALLY, SORRY 🙂 )

It is fascinating... how "you" can imagine all of that... where does all that imagination come from? All that energy spent and all those thoughts and theories surrounding a single shower... (in your specific case, at least).

A friend of mine has a father who is very old now... he deals with geriatric paranoia. They have similar situations with him... except they actually have to restrain him just to get him to shower, and he thinks they are trying to poison him... and so much more.

It’s not even an issue of capability with my mother-in-law; it’s just that she simply lacks the will. She’s completely indifferent to everything... and honestly, if she starts smelling because she refuses to shower, she doesn't care one bit. It’s all just so trivial to her. She is truly the type of person who could just sit there or lie in bed starving, yet refuse to eat a single bite...

But what can you say? That's just how she is... she's family, and I love her exactly as she is...
Truthfully, my blood pressure spikes to 150 just dealing with her, so I often have to step outside for a quick walk just to clear my head...
But what am I supposed to do? She just doesn't grasp any of it... I could tell her a hundred times that certain things she does bother me...
Sometimes, when I'm feeling down or just in a bad mood... she senses it, and she'll give my head a little pat...
It isn't that she understands nothing... it's just that she understands far less than she really should.

I’m glad the shower story gave you a laugh; looking back on those moments and similar episodes always brings a bit of dark humor to my day.

The only difference was that back when I was staying in the psychiatric wards, there was a new story every single day. I would take something completely mundane and unrelated to myself and spin it into a conspiracy where people were threatening my life or trying to kill me. It ranged from claiming TV programs were actually using hypnosis on patients—which I tried to explain to friends visiting me, noting that the broadcasts were perfectly standard—to believing the military was planning to round up all the patients for suicide missions, or even that they wanted to dump me at the local zoo, perhaps as feed for the lions. Every day brought a new delusion, each one more irrational than the last. Fortunately, the doctors didn't catch onto most of them since they were effectively on the enemy's side, so there was no point in risking my safety by explaining where the perceived danger was coming from. Once, they accidentally stumbled upon the zoo story, but I avoided explaining the actual logic, offering instead these disjointed justifications that ended up sounding even more nonsensical than the truth.

Eric Mitchell55 said:How do you tell the difference between what's actually happening and everything we're going through?
Do you ever realize when you're starting to hallucinate?

I'm no expert, and I can't be bothered to look it up on Google, but isn't a hallucination just being certain about something that isn't there? You see or hear something that doesn't exist, yet because you're seeing or hearing it, you're convinced it's real. There's no room for doubt in that moment; it simply works that way.

Personally, I have never been able to distinguish whether I was experiencing reality or a hallucination. Even today, there are certain things I'm still unsure about. They feel real enough to me, but I won't argue the point since there's no sense in doing so, only trouble. There is always that slim, tiny possibility that it was just an illusion, maybe caused by being drunk or taking the wrong medication, who knows.

William Evans10 said:It’s exactly everything you just listed... it's happening to her right now. And on top of all that... she doesn't care about herself or basic hygiene at all. It's just cigarettes, cigarettes, cigarettes.

And to top it all off, the medical report states: "Given her age and the nature of these disturbances, the prognosis is poor."

Is there ever any hope for improvement? Because the doctor's words aren't exactly encouraging, and they leave me feeling pretty hopeless. Based on what he said, I feel like I can only wait for the day she becomes completely bedridden and loses all touch with reality.

Because nothing interests her anymore. She doesn't even want to talk. She just wants to lie there.
She lives with us, but her condition hasn't changed one bit. If I ask her to do something simple, like take a shower, she won't do it... I literally have to command her to do it.

The doctor mentioned that while her current medication should keep the illness under control, hallucinations could still emerge... and honestly, he admitted he doesn't even know for sure.

Is there really no cure? No hope?

I find myself compelled to comment on this bolded section; it represents just one episode from my past that I can laugh about endlessly today, though at the time, it felt exactly as I am about to describe.

After spending a few days at the Los Angeles facility while they kept me under observation for absolutely no reason—even though I was perfectly fine, if you can believe the irony—a male nurse approached me to tell me I needed to take a shower. I felt a momentary flash of pride because I understood exactly what he was asking for, though I kept my mouth shut just to avoid giving him any more ammunition to label me as unstable, since anyone would grasp such a basic instruction. I sat there weighing my response before the realization hit me that there aren't actually any showers here. I could hear the sound of running water coming from the bathroom, but I knew instinctively it was nothing more than a recording playing through a speaker, a hollow imitation of reality. There were moments when I questioned my own sanity, wondering if the lack of showers was merely a trick of my mind, but I refused to ask him if the plumbing was real or if it was just audio, simply because I didn't want to confirm his worst suspicions about me.

After he spent some time badgering me, the guy finally convinced me to go take a look, and I followed him along, fully certain there was nothing to see since showers apparently don't exist in this place. We stepped into the bathroom where I could hear the sound of running water—which, in my mind, served only as proof that the showers weren't actually there—but then we rounded the corner and discovered actual, functional showers that you could genuinely use.

I have finally come to the realization that this entire situation is orchestrated against me, especially since no sane person would go so far as to hide the showers from view just to ensure honest people can't find them.

I wouldn't have even bothered showering on that trip if two more hospital staff hadn't shown up to bolster the team.

I never really had the heart to shower in hospitals, mostly because I found certain issues within those bathrooms that weighed heavily on me, though whether that was due to my own declining health or the facilities themselves remains a matter of some debate.

I can't speak to any kind of cure or the possibility of hope, but generally speaking, if you can manage to resolve everything during that first and only hospital stay, you might stand a chance, because anything beyond that point tends to become significantly more complicated.

My prognoses varied wildly, ranging from the absolute worst-case scenarios to slightly less grim outlooks, yet none of them offered much genuine hope. Then my primary psychiatrist told me, after three or four years of this, that it had all been a relatively minor case, almost nothing at all. It caught me completely off guard; I was bracing myself for some heavy warnings or dire precautions, but there was nothing. He simply said I was as healthy as anyone else and that I could finally walk out those doors without giving them a second thought. So I walked out, and this time, the victory felt final. I felt no urge to prove anything to anyone, no need to slam the doors until they shattered, and no craving for praise, apologies, or that submissive fear that used to be the telltale sign of my illness every time I passed through those doors before. That last time, I left knowing I wouldn't be coming back—and even if I did return, it wouldn't be because it was my first time leaving. I never told him how incredibly sorry I felt about not seeing him again, feeling like the chapter was closed, though given that one of my main struggles was severely disrupted emotions, I'm not entirely sure why I felt that way when all I had wanted for months was to get outside and slam those double glass doors so hard they’d break on both sides.

William Evans10 said:I don't know, it all feels somewhat pointless to me. There is so little known. So little research is actually done. It's tragic... Doctors hand out a diagnosis, prescribe a regimen, and that's it. And since all these diagnoses are so similar, they often end up changing the diagnosis several times. No matter what you tell them, they don't know how to truly help, how to assist the patient. From their perspective, that's just the way it is, and nothing can be changed. There is no counseling, no support, no guidance on how to help the family manage someone with this condition. So what am I left with? Just trying to figure it out as best I can.

So much money is poured into weapons, while actual research and experiments that might actually save us are neglected... meanwhile, pharmaceutical companies rake in the profits from medications. People aren't getting the help they need. What happens to the people for whom none of the therapies work? Thank God there are people for whom these pills do help. But what about people like my mother-in-law, for whom they don't work? She suffers, and we all suffer right along with her.

These are heavy illnesses, and we know almost nothing about them. We don't even know for sure if they are hereditary.
I feel so sad and bitter about it all.

It is true that there is an overwhelming amount of research and academic papers regarding mental illness, yet the conclusions are constantly at odds. Determining what applies to your specific situation is incredibly difficult. I spent an entire month reading everything I could find just to try and weigh the options. Calculating the probabilities isn't a simple matter of basic math; you have to sift through endless conflicting studies and somehow attempt to synthesize it all into something coherent.

Even today, American psychiatry relies heavily on a trial-and-error approach with various medications, hoping something finally sticks. Just because a treatment works for one person doesn't mean it will work for you.

I think I got lucky in my case. They were actually planning to discharge me as an incurable case before they gave me that last medication that finally worked. Whether the medicine was the savior or the illness simply receded is a question that will never be answered. If I had suffered another episode within the next six months, I have no idea what they would have done. They didn't have any other options left to give.

I cannot recall if I wrote this here or somewhere else, but later this year will mark exactly twenty years since my first hospitalization. I am not sure why I chose twenty years as my benchmark, but if I go two decades without a relapse, I consider myself cured. Any subsequent episode would be entirely unrelated to the first. Then again, I am prepared to cheat if anything happens in the coming months. I might just wait until I see the doctor or miscalculate the dates so I can claim twenty years passed yesterday or today. Whatever, everyone needs their little delusions.

William Evans10 said:I’ve been doing quite a bit of reading online lately. Honestly, though? It all feels a bit scattered to me. Just a whole lot of guesswork. One study says this, another study claims that—the truth is, nobody seems to have a definitive answer on any of it. But, from what I can gather... it appears a person is born with certain genetic markers in the brain that might be activated, or they might stay dormant. There are so many variables involved: lifestyle choices, alcohol consumption, drug use, and even psychological trauma. It can be passed down from grandparents to grandchildren, though that isn't a guarantee. Sometimes, you won't see the illness manifest in the first generation, yet it suddenly surfaces in the second. It’s unpredictable. A brother might develop it while his sister remains perfectly healthy, or vice versa. Even with identical twins, one could be affected while the other isn't. There is also the matter of adoption. Children adopted and raised away from biological parents who suffered from schizophrenia or bipolar disorder can still potentially develop these conditions within their foster environments. These two specific illnesses are very closely linked.

I recently stumbled upon a fascinating article regarding a massive longitudinal study conducted by a group of researchers over in Sweden. They tracked every single individual diagnosed with schizophrenia and bipolar disorder across the country from 1973 all the way through 2003, cross-referencing that data with familial relationships among those affected. The findings are quite striking: children who have a parent living with schizophrenia face a 9.9% higher probability of developing the condition themselves. Furthermore, they carry a 5.2% increased risk of bipolar disorder compared to children whose parents were unaffected. Because of this deep connection, the researchers are arguing that we really ought to be studying both disorders in parallel rather than treating them as separate silos, as they seem to be fundamentally intertwined.

A person whose sibling has one of those two psychiatric conditions also faces an increased risk of developing both disorders themselves.

My son is still far too young for me to know anything for certain. All I can do is wait. But, of course, I worry, because the possibility is there.

So, I’ve come to the conclusion that in my mother-in-law's case—meaning her specific illness—multiple factors are at play. For starters, she had difficulties growing up and attended special education schools. She also survived meningitis as a child and dealt with epilepsy, which might have caused some minor brain damage. On top of that, she suffered a massive psychological trauma at age eight when her sister passed away. So, all of that combined likely played a huge role in triggering the gene she carried, which she inherited from her own mother.
It is possible that my husband (her son) also carries the gene, but perhaps it didn't manifest, or maybe his generation simply skipped over it. I don't know; I can only speculate and assume... the brain is such a complicated organ.

What truly keeps me up at night is my child. As for him, right now, I can't say anything about him other than that he is a happy, lively little boy. What worries me is an incident that happened last year in July. One morning, out of nowhere, he just collapsed, and we couldn't get him to wake up. He was only 10 months old then. Naturally, we rushed him to the hospital in a total panic. That same state recurred the second day while we were in the hospital. The doctors suspected a cerebral seizure (there wasn't any muscle twitching or oxygen loss, he was just unconscious). They also considered narcolepsy, but they ruled that out since his sleep patterns were perfectly normal and regular. They even looked into meningitis. We went through every test imaginable: brain CT scans, EEGs (four or five times), a lumbar puncture, and an echocardiogram. However, not a single result pointed toward any diagnosis. It has been eight months since then, and it hasn't happened again. But given the family medical history—specifically the fact that his grandmother survived epilepsy and meningitis and suffers from schizophrenia—it has sparked doubt and anxiety in me, my husband, and the doctors. In nine months, we are headed for an MRI, so we should finally know more. We are just praying for a clean scan.

Both you and I can only hope that our children stay healthy. There isn't much we can do to influence it. Regarding your daughter, my humble opinion is that you should seek a second opinion and take her to another doctor just to see what they think. You should consult with several specialists and perhaps even build connections if necessary. I sincerely hope and believe that a girl her age isn't suffering from depression. I am so incredibly sorry about your sister. I honestly don't know what to say to all of this; I'm at a loss for words...😢 What you need to do now is watch your children as closely as you possibly can and monitor everything they do; if something does happen, you have to react immediately.

Let's just hope they discover something new and that we end up knowing much more than we do now. If nothing else, at least for now, we can remain vigilant and stay informed about it all.

It doesn't really matter if it's F20, F23, F25... and so on. It's all closely linked and similar. Every one of these illnesses is difficult, both for the patient and for the family. That's why it's vital that if it is present, it's caught early so you can respond. That way, one can lead as normal a
life as possible. Also, something that really needs work is the education and support provided to families of those affected, because not everyone has access to the internet and not everyone knows how to handle this kind of "pressure." My husband and I will likely have to visit a psychiatrist or psychologist ourselves eventually, because unfortunately, there isn't anyone else to turn to for help and support. We live in a country where people with mental illnesses are exposed to stigma and prejudice from others, and that is precisely why I fear most for my son; no two people are the same, and none of us handle obstacles and judgments in the same way.

Look, the advantage of the internet is that you can find any article you need quickly and easily.

I spent about a month visiting libraries in Chicago searching for the specific articles I needed, most of which are probably the exact same ones available online now.

And not all research covers the same topic or yields the same results; findings are often contradictory, making it difficult to determine which ones hold weight and which do not. I spent another month reading through everything I gathered just to arrive at something actionable, and within a day or two, I calculated the probability that my brother and sister would face issues. Not a single psychiatrist agreed with my calculations, simply because I am not a doctor, even though it was pure mathematics—a discipline I thought I was failing at until I became the top student in my class year after year at university. Regardless, nobody took it seriously; I couldn't calculate that my sister would attempt suicide (perhaps I could have if I had spent more time on it), but what I did calculate certainly wasn't positive.

I looked into schizophrenia a little today, remembering that twenty years ago, the causes were largely unknown.

Nowadays, it is perhaps thought to be a hereditary condition influenced by the environment, though I am not certain. Again, this 5% or 10% increased probability of transmission mentioned in studies from Sweden is negligible; even measuring a 5% or 10% shift is difficult. To me, that sounds more like confirmation that the disease isn't hereditary. I am not a doctor, of course, and they will dismiss my conclusions, and if I'm unlucky, they'll just think I'm ill myself.

I remember that until quite recently—perhaps even now—there were ideas that schizophrenia should be abandoned as a diagnosis because too many different illnesses fall under its umbrella, suggesting they could all be categorized under different names. Yet, the term is still used, encompassing five or more subtypes plus simple, undefined cases.

I am going to take my Daughter to another doctor to see what they say, but I know the problem exists; the only question is the diagnosis.

She attempted suicide when she was only seven years old, which certainly doesn't support the idea that everything is fine with her. I simply thought I had a few more years before the first diagnosis would be made.

Brian Hayes43 said:However, there are claims that it isn't great for memory retention. And honestly, how could it be, when you're essentially sending an unregulated surge of electricity into an organ that relies on such an incredibly delicate dance of electron signaling? To me, it feels somewhat barbaric. :S

On another note, is there really no space here for people to gather and share their personal stories? It seems like a missed opportunity.

I suppose I can't comment because they'll just wipe my brain and format everything out.

Just kidding. I don't have anything profound to say about it, other than hoping I haven't gone through something similar—though maybe it worked out for the best if I did.

Then again, there are perfectly effective drugs used for erasing memory that are typically utilized as anesthetics. They tend to wipe out about ten minutes of your life, perhaps more depending on the dosage. I didn't believe it until I was administered one of those drugs during a surgery (I can't recall the name, and regardless, you can't get your hands on it legally anyway).

Supposedly, I had a conversation with the doctor, asking for all the specifics regarding the surgery and the procedure, yet I couldn't remember a single thing afterward. Not the doctor, not the talk, not the surgery itself. If it weren't for the incision and the bandages, I wouldn't have even known I'd undergone an operation.

And that wasn't even the primary anesthetic, just something given beforehand.

William Evans10 said:What kind of papers are available online? Generally speaking, is it possible that my husband carries the gene... but it just hasn't been activated? He didn't inherit it from her, even though his mother has it.

It is well known to me that marijuana, and drugs in general, can trigger mental illnesses regardless of whether someone has the genes or not.

I am so sorry about your sister. 😢

Was she ill as well? How old are your kids?

Sorry if those questions feel too personal; you don't have to answer them.

I used to research schizophrenia twenty years ago using the old-fashioned method of scouring library stacks. I assume all that data is available on the internet now, though I haven't bothered to check.

The only thing I recall clearly is that schizophrenia isn't an inherited disease; perhaps a predisposition is passed down, but not the condition itself—though again, that was two decades ago.

I remember hearing something on the radio here in the US recently about researchers finding either genetic markers or brain similarities shared among five major psychiatric disorders—schizophrenia, bipolar, ADHD, and two others I can't quite name. That was the last I heard; it won't be in a textbook, but likely exists somewhere online.

Similarly, I heard today, probably here in America as well, that a young girl was cured of HIV. By definition, HIV is incurable, and that is a proven fact, yet they are claiming she is cured. In medicine, something is considered an absolute truth until someone proves otherwise.

My sister was the most well-adjusted person in our entire family. Everyone else is a difficult case, myself included, but she was perfectly fine. Even after she left a note, we can't reach a consensus on what drove her to suicide, and neither can the doctors.

My Daughter is nine, and my son is five. I had posted on the bipolar thread earlier because my checkup today went smoothly and everything seemed fine.

That sense of relief was ruined by the doctor telling me today that my Daughter is depressed. Now I am faced with a choice: I can find a hundred papers arguing that depression shouldn't be diagnosed in a nine-year-old, I can seek a second opinion from a doctor who insists everything is fine, or I can hunt for the best pediatric antidepressant.

She has had issues before. I knew a diagnosis was coming eventually, but I assumed I had another three or four years, maybe more. I don't; I need to act right now.

While other parents might worry about how to discuss sex with their children, for us, that is just a light introduction to much heavier topics like depression and suicide.

Finally, my diagnosis today was 296.7 (Bipolar I), which I compared to my discharge papers from Rib, where it was listed as 295.1 (Schizophrenia, hebephrenic type). The man at Rib insisted it was psychosis rather than schizophrenia, but the code says otherwise. Personally, I couldn't care less whether it's 295 or 296; my focus is on my children and what to expect from them. I know now that I should prepare for severe struggles, and anything less than that will be a profound relief.

Harold Harris20 said:My brother’s currently stuck in the hospital on some intensive treatment, and honestly, he’s just not responding well to the meds at all. He came home for the weekend, and things turned into a total disaster again.
Now he's telling us his doctor wants to run a brain scan. Why would they even do that? What are they actually looking for?

I realize my input doesn't exactly sit well with you, but are we talking about an EEG, a CT, an MRI, or something else entirely?

It seems like everyone else here has had similar experiences, because during my own hospital stays, I only ever underwent an EEG, and it wasn't until after I was discharged that they finally performed a CT scan.

If my memory serves me correctly, everything came back normal.

The reasoning behind it remains a mystery to me; back then, while I was stuck in those wards, I was convinced these tests were just some targeted form of punishment orchestrated by people who hated me and wanted me dead—though, looking back now, I suppose the symptoms did align quite neatly with the diagnosis.

Michelle Evans said:That’s why I asked about the lobotomy. 🙂 It isn't actually performed; it's illegal. If someone claims they had one, they probably just need a doctor to adjust their medication...

Electroconvulsive therapy—what people call "shock therapy"—is real. You can find it used at places like Mayo Clinic, for example. It's a legitimate medical treatment that is nothing like the old stereotypes. It's actually quite effective. Topic.

Looking back, I suppose I got lucky during my time at the hospital if I didn't receive any shock therapy, though it's difficult to say with any certainty what truly happened.

The whole subject of electroshock was usually just a joke passed around between patients, but now I’m starting to wonder if it wasn't a joke after all, assuming they were actually using it.

Still, I remember quite clearly that there was no dedicated room for electroshock treatment, which serves as my primary evidence that it wasn't being used, unless they were performing it in some standard patient room.

William Evans10 said:Oh goodness... I am not entirely certain. It has been an inconsistent struggle with this illness for a lifetime... She would take them for a month, then stop for three months. That was the general pattern. She never truly viewed herself as ill, merely "different"... Her mother even struggled with her until the poor woman passed away. That was roughly 10 years ago. Since then, her father didn't worry much about the pills. Now, both he and I are gone—well, he is deceased. Ever since I joined the family, I have taken on most of the responsibility for her care. She has been on continuous therapy for about two years now. Sadly, the illness has mostly been neglected.

As for the genetics, my mother-in-law's grandmother—who was also ill—was apparently suffering from a type of psychosis as well, based on everything I’ve gathered. Her condition was even more severe because she struggled with alcoholism on top of everything else. So, yes, it is definitely hereditary...

My husband does not have psychosis, though his nerves are certainly frayed, given everything he and his mother endured. He is 28 years old. Is there a specific age threshold for onset? I read somewhere that it usually happens in one's early twenties.

Now, I find myself quite fearful... I have a son who is only a year and a half old. Is there anything I can do to prevent him from getting sick, considering the high probability? Or does it not necessarily mean he will suffer, given that it was the women who carried that gene? I don't know about the generations before, but regarding those two women, I know for sure. If I were to have a daughter one day, is it possible she could fall ill too?

Here is my perspective, though I haven't studied schizophrenia extensively and things may have evolved. It used to be that the triggers were poorly understood beyond physical trauma or substance abuse, and while you can calculate hereditary risks through various studies found online, that risk generally stays well below fifty percent. Furthermore, even if the condition is inherited, it won't manifest as an exact replica of the parents' experience; schizophrenia presents in many forms, and it is highly unlikely for a son to inherit the exact same presentation as a parent.

Thirdly, if a diagnosis does occur, there isn't much recourse other than initiating treatment immediately, and ensuring the child avoids marijuana, which is one of the few proven triggers that can set the condition in motion.

I have two children and a heavy family history, though my primary focus has always been managing the risk of suicide, as my sister took her own life.

wiredmason56 said:So, I found out my grandma's diagnosis. She had manic-depressive psychosis—basically bipolar disorder. When she lived on her own, my dad remembers her having more frequent manic episodes. Once she sold her house and moved in with us, she started slipping into depressions more often. I remember one summer, I was maybe in sixth grade, we came back from vacation at the beach, and she had been home alone. Of course, she wasn't taking her meds, so she seemed totally fine, but she pulled me aside and whispered how terrified she was because she felt like electricity was shaking the living room. 🤷Then she ended up spending a few weeks at a psychiatric facility in Portland, and everything went back to normal for a bit. She was getting monthly injections, though I'm not sure which medication it was. My mom told me she used to work as hard as a young woman when she was a nurse, but then she got sick. She’d start claiming my grandpa was a fraud and things like that, but otherwise, she was really sweet and calm whenever she was on her treatment.

Personally, none of these diagnoses—psychosis, schizophrenia, or bipolar—are particularly comforting, especially since I’ve personally dealt with all three, most recently the bipolar.

With bipolar disorder, the genetic component is significantly more pronounced than it is with schizophrenia or general psychosis. In plain terms, there is a distinct possibility that other family members are currently struggling or will eventually face similar issues. If you haven't already, you should certainly mention this history to your psychiatrist.

Looking back at my own experience, I began researching potential hereditary links immediately following my first hospitalization. Since the internet wasn't what it is today, I spent hours in various public libraries, eventually concluding that the genetic predisposition was substantial enough that my brother and sister were in serious jeopardy. They weren't just at risk; they were in grave danger, based entirely on medical records that anyone with the ability to read them could have analyzed.

Back then, however, hardly anyone took me seriously, and for lack of a better term, they mostly viewed me as someone who had lost their grip on reality.

A few years later, my sister took her own life. The note she left behind detailed the exact same symptoms I had experienced. She died at the same age I was when I was first admitted to the hospital.

wiredmason56 said:Yeah, obviously I wasn't really thinking about taking vitamins, but honestly, what did I care? I don't think I was ever much of a pill person anyway, especially when it comes to the heavy stuff. If things had gone differently, maybe I’d be living a totally normal life right now without having to swallow psych meds every day. No depression, no insomnia, no panic attacks, or whatever else you want to throw into the mix. My psychiatrist actually told me recently that it’s almost easier for people dealing with psychosis, particularly during those manic phases, than it is for those stuck in the depths of depression. Personally? I think I’d much rather deal with being manic than feeling this absolute garbage in a depressive slump.☕

First off, regarding your grandmother, you should try to find out her actual diagnosis. In a perfect world, your doctor would have prioritized asking that question from the start. Leponex is prescribed for a massive spectrum of conditions, some of which carry a higher hereditary risk than others, though they all generally involve serious issues. That said, Leponex worked for me.
The bolded part is nonsense; I have never encountered such sheer stupidity from a psychiatrist before, specifically the idea that someone else's situation is somehow more severe than yours. Whether that's professional incompetence, a flawed approach to treatment, or just basic lack of common sense, it doesn't matter.
I've experienced both psychosis and mania, and while there was a brief window where it felt almost fun, it inevitably ended with me spending months in locked wards, which is how psychosis usually plays out.

Robin Lopez2 said:I’m actually quite curious about this, so I'll ask: at what point does a diagnosis of psychosis officially get "rebranded" as schizophrenia, or vice versa?

That was twenty years ago, and while the diagnostic manuals have shifted slightly since then, the core logic remains largely the same.

Some psychiatrists preferred starting with a broad psychosis label, while others went straight to schizophrenia; it functioned as a working diagnosis that could be adjusted as needed, alongside various other classifications like OCD, severe anxiety, panic disorders, or simple paranoia.

The choice usually boiled down to either schizophrenia or psychosis, though the symptoms overlap significantly and the medication protocols are identical. While psychosis can certainly manifest as part of schizophrenia, schizophrenia cannot exist as merely a subset of psychosis. Personally, I leaned toward a schizophrenia diagnosis because my symptom profile felt comprehensive enough to warrant it.

On the other hand, a schizophrenia diagnosis required meeting a specific threshold of criteria rather than just exhibiting a few isolated symptoms. If I recall correctly, you had to sustain those symptoms for at least a month to qualify for schizophrenia, yet they slapped that label on me within just a few days, which was technically an error based on the standards used back then.

One complicating factor was that my condition persisted for much longer than two months, meaning I did technically meet all the requirements for schizophrenia regardless; besides, psychosis can also endure far beyond a single month, which is why we rely on doctors to draw the line.

It was almost absurd watching psychiatrists change my entire diagnosis based on a five-minute conversation and a handful of files once I was discharged from the hospital.

Nowadays, there is a general consensus that it wasn't schizophrenia—not that I asked the specialists in Los Angeles who were most certain of that diagnosis—under the reasoning that schizophrenia is incurable, whereas back then, people believed it could be overcome.

Most young patients in their late teens or early twenties didn't lose sleep over a schizophrenia diagnosis because they genuinely expected a full recovery and didn't view it as a life sentence. We actually pitied those with different diagnoses, as they were often considered the hopeless cases, whereas I found it possible to maintain a relatively normal conversation with the schizophrenia patients, while the others were, to put it mildly, quite eccentric.

Ultimately, both schizophrenia and psychosis present in various forms, ranging from mild to debilitating. Under the old definitions, there were at least five or six distinct subtypes, some carrying a grim prognosis and others offering a much better outlook.

Chloe Hughes6 said:Congratulations on your recovery! Although, if you ask me, I doubt the psychiatrists played a significant role in that outcome. The fact that your case is used as part of medical training is a clear indication of how rare a recovery like yours truly is. That hospital likely uses your story as a prestige booster. I know those institutions quite well; they are often caught up in ego trips and petty rivalries, claiming one center is superior to another—even within their own walls. But the most important thing is that you are okay. Not just "okay," but truly recovered and achieving incredible successes. I would love to meet you in person sometime!

Regarding what was said about the University Hospital being a teaching facility, students were always around, ranging from freshmen to seniors. The older students tended to only talk to the three of us. They were either studying for exams, writing papers, or something similar. A few even admitted they were prepping for tests and asked me to help them study, since they’d been handed the most complex case where nothing made sense. It was almost absurd to watch them ask the exact same questions a psychiatrist had posed just a day or even a couple of hours prior. I couldn't tell if they were genuinely curious or if the doctor was just feeding them his own answers to see if they could replicate his logic.
I would have helped them if I knew how, but more importantly, I wanted them to convince the doctor I was sane, since he clearly didn't believe it himself.
I have no idea why they singled me out for their studies. Perhaps it was because I had been there so long I became a fixture, or maybe because I had cycled through every medication under the sun without success until the very end. I remember the doctor telling my parents at one point that he was simply going to let me go as I was, because there was nothing left for him to try. Then, right before my potential discharge, they introduced that last medication, Rexulti. It’s entirely possible I was already doing fine without it.
The other two patients the students interviewed were even more severe cases and regular fixtures there. Naturally, I wasn't thrilled about being grouped in with them, nor was I happy sharing a room with two such heavy schizophrenia patients. By that stage, they stopped writing any specific diagnoses on my paperwork because I would always argue against whatever label they tried to pin on me.
I doubt I was the only case like mine. Back then, the prevailing belief was that 25% of schizophrenia patients would achieve a full recovery. All young patients under 25 with a diagnosis lived under the expectation of a total cure—after all, they had schizophrenia. No one worried too much about it. We actually believed schizophrenia was curable, unlike other conditions like bipolar disorder, which was strangely treated as a permanent sentence. For me, the real crisis back then wasn't some illness I expected to vanish overnight; it was the fear that my girlfriend would leave me, and she ended up doing exactly that a month after I was released.

Chloe Hughes6 said:Congratulations on your recovery! Although, if you ask me, I doubt the psychiatrists played a significant role in that outcome. The fact that your case is used as part of medical training is a clear indication of how rare a recovery like yours truly is. That hospital likely uses your story as a prestige booster. I know those institutions quite well; they are often caught up in ego trips and petty rivalries, claiming one center is superior to another—even within their own walls. But the most important thing is that you are okay. Not just "okay," but truly recovered and achieving incredible successes. I would love to meet you in person sometime!

Thanks. I'm rarely in the States, but feel free to DM me if you have questions.
It is an absolute fact that the psychiatrists at the University Hospital are constantly trying to outdo one another, especially those from the different wings or buildings. I’ve heard them more than once dismiss a diagnosis based on trivialities, essentially undermining the doctor I spent over two months working with. Then, they would pivot and interpret the same diagnosis in a completely different way—for everyone involved, it was treated like a game of flipping coins, swapping psychosis for schizophrenia and back again just for the hell of it.
Psychotherapy was always a different experience entirely, regardless of whether it was group sessions or individual ones.
On top of that, the doctors from the upper wing used to make comments about how the patients in the lower wing were hopeless cases who couldn't be saved, saying this right in front of all the other patients from the upper wing and me, since I was in the lower wing.
In the end, I am not even certain what actually worked. I eventually stopped taking the medication, and everything turned out fine without it. Oh, and they also threatened me, saying that if I ever thought nothing had happened or that I had healed on my own, they would lock me up again because apparently, that kind of thinking is just a symptom of the illness returning.
After that episode, things weren't exactly sunshine and rainbows. Or maybe they were. I’ve posted on other threads about things that were, at the very least, far from perfect... it's hard to explain (I lost track of how many women I slept with a long time ago, I regularly use escorts, I used to be a minor escort myself, I'd approach girls in places where I think I knew exactly what I was doing, and I've been in car accidents where the survival rate was less than fifty percent).
Sometimes I think I am not normal. But only occasionally. It hits me harder when someone else points it out, and it’s even worse if they actually mean it.

Noah Garcia4 said:Oh, I think not—I'm keeping my secrets. 🙂

Well, he showed up, and he isn't backing down. 🙄 He claims he’s a changed man, 😲 leaning heavily into all those clichés about how much he loves me, acting like he's suddenly become this tiny, insignificant speck of a person trying to make amends. 🤣 🙄

Regarding the bolded part, is that supposed to be some kind of secret? I didn't just list a massive amount of medications I’ve taken, but I also shared an exhaustive amount of detail regarding the illnesses themselves. In reality, I disclosed far more than I ever bothered to tell my doctors, since they were essentially on the wrong side of things and therefore deserved nothing but inaccurate or incomplete information—perhaps if I had been entirely transparent, I wouldn't have spent such a significant portion of my life stuck in a hospital bed.