Jose Ward4 said:Exactly. That’s the right way to look at it—just go ahead and get it done, and you might actually see some results. Honestly, don't sit around waiting on family to make things happen. You never know how things are going to shake out, or when everything will finally fall into place, just like you said. It would be best for you to get those papers filed as soon as possible so you aren't stuck in limbo. Every month you delay, you're basically throwing money down the drain. I learned that the hard way back when I was dealing with my own paperwork issues in Chicago; the delays really add up. But even if you can't do it immediately because of family stuff, just make sure you submit everything by the end of the year at the latest. Once that money hits your account, it'll all be worth it.
Oh, I want to, believe me, but I can't right now. I have to handle things first. I don't really have a choice here. As soon as this whole situation turns a corner in a few months, I'm all over it—maybe even sooner. Catch ya later. 🙂
Jose Ward4 said:Yeah, that’s what I figured. Just go for the disability and the caregiver benefits. That’s the advice I got myself. You need to get some money coming in because, man, life is hard, just like you said. It won't be a fortune, but it’ll take the edge off. Seriously, get that sorted out ASAP just to make life a little more manageable. Anything is better than having zero income. Everyone is struggling these days, but having something—even if it’s just for a couple of years like it was for me—makes a difference. Once you have that stability, you'll see. Maybe then a few other doors will start opening up.
Look, man, I hear you. Believe me, I know. I've been hunting for work forever, but it's tough—especially since I can only handle part-time right now. Anything more than that and I'd just crash.
Right now, I'm just waiting for some family drama to settle down first. Could go either way—might end up being a win, might be a total mess. We'll see.
I can't make it happen this second, but by the end of the year? I'm going for it. I'll give it my best shot—what do I really have to lose?
Jose Ward4 said:I’m not sure how things are looking in your neck of the woods, but I’d bet it’s just as messy as it is here. You might as well be chasing a mirage when it comes to those benefits; it is incredibly hard to actually pull them in. For instance, I went in for my medical evaluation back in April, and I didn't even get a decision until now. That's after waiting two whole years just for the appointment! They finally ruled that I have a Level 3 disability and am unable to work, though they only granted it temporarily for two years. Honestly? I think I only pushed for it because of the money, and maybe there's a chance I could inherit some Social Security benefits from my late parents. But that’s a huge "maybe." I have no clue what specific condition you need to be in for that to become permanent. It's all such a total 🤷 .
Yeah, I hear you. Still, I'm gonna try. He pointed me toward applying for long-term social services. The Social Security Administration told me I might qualify for disability, caregiver assistance, and other aid. Something, anything. My family and I are basically broke.
If I want to actually see any of that money, I’d probably have to look into vocational retraining or finding a new career path. But if I stay stuck like this—sick, broke, and potentially on the wrong medication—I might lose the right to claim anything at all. Things are worse than ever, especially since I've always been the sickly type. Mentally, too.
I'm not even denying it—my mental health took a hit, and honestly, I don't think I've ever really been "okay" in that department.
I completely agree with everything you wrote. If anything, the situation here is even more dire than what you described. We're being totally screwed over by the system.
So, anyway, the folks over at the FDA basically told me I should just let the diagnoses fly—you know, just let them happen—so that I can actually get some legitimate coverage and start receiving benefits.
Laura Castillo6 said:I think you’re getting way too bogged down in details that honestly don't matter. Take diagnostic codes, for example. In psychiatry, they can assign you a thousand different codes; it's the same with almost any illness. But those numbers aren't the point. The code is just a gateway to getting your medication, a surgery, or whatever medical treatment is meant to help you.
What actually matters is how you’re functioning, how you feel, and what symptoms you're dealing with.
If you obsess over doctors, pills, and specific diagnoses, you end up in this feedback loop that keeps someone who is otherwise capable stuck in total paralysis. Look, there are psychotic disorders, various mental health conditions, and medications that work in all sorts of ways, but at the end of the day, you still have to live your actual life. Taking your meds, trying to lead a calmer life, and going to appointments should just be part of your routine—things you do, but don't dwell on constantly.
Obsession is a real phenomenon. It’s like people who are obsessed with their jobs and spend their entire evening talking about work; patients often do the same thing, where they can't stop thinking about their illness. Often, just finding ways to shift your focus toward more positive, everyday things can actually help you recover a bit.
There are plenty of people living with schizophrenia. Some pass away, some never quite find their way back to reality, but a huge group of people functions perfectly well in society, whether they are on medication or not. It’s really up to you to decide which group you want to belong to right now.
But look, if they start stabbing me with the wrong meds, obviously I’m going to complain and obsess over it. My health would be trashed because of the wrong treatment.
My vision went, I've got Floatere everywhere, blood spots in my sight, a damaged liver... and now I’m dealing with these nasty intrusive thoughts from the Risperdal they gave me because there was no Metoton available.
I told them everything—well, almost everything. My last psychiatrist? [wondering aloud] She asked what kind of Musica I had. I told her I had Musica, Floatere.
I told my doctor at the FDA quite a lot, though still not everything, because I told him we need more time to talk through it properly—but even then, I didn't get it all out. I ended up leaving without a prescription because I refused to sit there and talk to him while feeling high.
I should have done this sooner. The guy actually listened and told me to go get some lab work done. But I haven't done anything because my family life and my general existence are such a mess right now.
He even referred me to social services to see if I could get some assistance, but I couldn't even deal with that because of everything else going on.
I'm not physically healthy to begin with—I'm a total wreck, and that's why I keep snapping. Plus, I think I hit a breaking point after probably overdosing on Starbucks because that's what I was using to manage the pain back then.
It's just chaos. I don't even know where to start telling the whole story. 😵
Angela Stewart6 said:But here’s a little thought for you all—we’re sitting here messaging one another, which is really just its own unique way of being social! And yet, it seems we’re still struggling with the exact same 🤷 .
It's just way easier to get the point across this way.
Nicole Barrett76 said:Does the psychiatric ward actually segregate patients into different rooms based on their specific diagnoses? For instance, would you find one room dedicated solely to those with schizophrenia, another for individuals dealing with bipolar disorder, a third for those struggling with depression, and perhaps a fourth for people diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder, or is that how such clinical classifications are organized?
Not even close. It’s a total free-for-all. Even the people who are physically restrained to their beds end up sharing space with someone else. You've got everything from terminal cases with dementia to... well, everything. I was actually stuck in a ward with a guy who had severe cognitive impairments from an accident—the techs were basically whispering that he didn't even belong in a psych ward, but rather some specialized care facility elsewhere.
It’s just a mix of homeless folks, alcoholics, addicts, veterans, you name it.
Harold Anderson3 said:Oh, Rebecca.😢 That is such a heavy thought, though I have to admit, there's a certain heartbreaking truth to it that hits home for me too. Hang in there, 🙂
It’s definitely a bummer. Luckily, things aren't quite that bad on my end. You two hang in there. 🙂
So, one guy was having hallucinations—auditory ones, probably. You know how it goes with most people dealing with severe depression, alcohol, drugs, and all that mess. Some were retired, and honestly, some were just out there living on the streets.
Look, let's be real—some people were out sick just to get those medical clearance papers, some were playing the system to score disability checks, and others were basically passed out after a drunken night of making terrible life choices. I didn't see a single person having visible hallucinations back then, either. There was this one guy talking to someone who wasn't there, but honestly, I couldn't tell if he was actually tripping or just being weird.
Most cases boil down to depression, substance abuse, or alcohol—it's usually the same old cycle of common issues.
Rebecca Rivera3 said: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.
Well, they will if you check yourself in voluntarily, even if you deny the hallucinations part. Personally, I was right on the edge of being held against my will a few times because I was dealing with delirium or delusions—but I wasn't actually seeing things that weren't there. So, yeah, hallucinations aren't the only ticket to a psych ward. If you're being a nuisance to everyone else, losing your mind, or just screaming your head off, that's enough to get you locked up too.
I'm telling you, I acted pretty wild back then—twice, I think—and they definitely could have forced me into a facility. But I signed the papers for voluntary admission myself... at least, if I'm remembering correctly from the last time. Though, this most recent time, I wasn't even acting crazy; it felt more like my brain just short-circuited because of everything going on.
Adam Morris4 said:It's not like I'm hearing an audible voice, though—you know, like in those movies about schizophrenia... It’s more like this *other version* of me—someone a bit tougher, maybe a little more cynical—is checking in. This "inner me" addresses me directly, almost like a coach, and we end up dissecting a situation or a person together. Or if I'm at the gym pushing through a heavy set, he’ll give me that mental nudge to hang in there. Honestly, I really hope I'm not dealing with some mild version of a mental health issue... I definitely don't want to end up being prescribed heavy-duty antipsychotics over some internal pep talks!
I honestly don't know what to tell you. For me, it’s my own voice, but it feels like a simulation of sorts. Like, take a conversation I had with my psychiatrist recently—it was basically me having a mental dialogue with myself, but acting as if I were talking to the doctor, who is still just my own voice, not some stranger. It’s kind of like daydreaming or that whole "make believe" thing Americans call it.
As for different kinds of thoughts, I guess I should mention something else. Sometimes, when I'm watching a movie—to put it this way—I find myself having full-on conversations with people on an online forum. Like, I'll mentally draft exactly what I would write back to them.
People say it's totally normal to talk to yourself, sometimes even out loud. But talking to imaginary characters, or visual hallucinations, or—this is the part—talking to strangers in public and expecting a response when nobody is actually answering? That drunk guy rambling to the air? Yeah, that’s where things get problematic, at least in my book and from what I see with others. I mean, talking to yourself is fine, presumably, as long as you aren't doing it twenty-four-seven.
Adam Morris4 said:So, here’s a little thought I had today—kind of a deep one, maybe? If I’m just sitting there by myself, having a full-on conversation where I’m talking to an imaginary version of myself... you know, playing both parts, responding to my own points, making comments back and forth? But the thing is, I’m not actually *hearing* an external voice or anything. It's all just happening internally in my head. In that case, would that be considered schizophrenia?
Look, if you're just having an internal monologue or even talking out loud to yourself, that’s pretty much standard human behavior—totally normal. It's only when you start hearing a literal stranger's voice in your ear that things get weird. Personally, I'm constantly running full-blown debates with myself in my head about random ideas and stuff. Nothing to worry about.
As for the whole strength thing... I don't know. Back during that religious phase I went through in 2013, I got hit by a car—totally wiped out—and somehow walked away without much to show for it. Just two scars, which, honestly, is thanks to the hospital staff being too lazy to stitch me up properly. I didn't even realize I'd been hit, let alone feel it; I just kept walking right after the impact.
Religion doesn't exactly do us any favors. Faith is one thing, but organized religion? It doesn't seem to be helping anyone. Or maybe it does. Who knows.
Diego Rivera, look, maybe I do have schizophrenia. I actually mentioned that possibility to my psychiatrist—it’s on the table—but since I’m not dealing with hallucinations or paranoia, it's hard to say.
Everything feels a bit off with me, I guess. And if I am intersex, then it wouldn't be surprising if my head is a little scrambled too. Hormones can mess with you in weird ways—who knows how they work—and then there's the liver, which pumps out hormones too.
Harold Anderson3 said:@Carol Barrett2, I don't think there's much of a distinction between schizophrenia and bipolar disorder when you look at it from a pharmacological perspective. Most of the antipsychotics that I’ve been prescribed, or that Sam used to take to manage schizophrenia, are also frequently utilized to treat bipolar disorder, essentially acting as effective mood stabilizers.
Look, I know, and honestly? I don't care anymore. I’ve decided to just follow whatever advice people have been throwing at me. I'll let them put me on whatever they want just so I can finally chase down some actual rights. Some kind of help. Life can't stay like this—being broke and having my folks struggling too.
I was at the psychiatrist yesterday. Wasn't even on my meds, so I was being a bit more talkative than usual. I mentioned the liver stuff, the vision issues, and how I suspect it might be bipolar or autism—though I didn't bring up Asperger's because my family gave me a hard time about it right before I left to deal with my mental health situation. Told him I'm mostly just on Bosaurin and half an Azirilex, and that I spend nearly the whole day sleeping. He didn't say much about the pills—nothing compared to the doses they used to pump me with back in the hospital. He just said to take the Bosaurin as needed when things get overwhelming and then come see him or head to the ER if it gets bad.
He said any of it could be happening because everything is so complicated these days. But I didn't tell him half of it. My mom and I stayed behind to talk; meanwhile, people outside were practically eating each other waiting. We probably held him up for half an hour. I told him beforehand that I needed more time to really open up, but he didn't realize I meant through psychotherapy, not just a quick chat.
He sent me to get my labs checked—liver, eyes, the works. Also referred me to Social Security to look into assistance or permanent disability benefits, though I didn't ask him anything about getting officially declared disabled or receiving any kind of disability checks.
Whatever, man. My family gave me a bit of grief, and ever since I walked into the CZMZ, everything has looked yellowish-white with these sudden floaters everywhere I look—it felt like I was losing my sight right then and there.
Everything's scheduled for next month. You can't get referrals like before; you just have to book it now.
So, I'll see about the rest of it next month.
But who's actually going to go out and chase down all these tests and paperwork? I mean, I'm barely moving as it is, and I don't know much about navigating this stuff—plus my folks aren't doing great either. But I guess we'll just try to tackle it all together somehow.
The real issue is that they just don't listen—not even a little bit. Like, I told them I might be dealing with bipolar disorder, and they just went ahead and slapped a schizophrenia diagnosis on me instead. It’s ridiculous. I might even have Asperger's, which can totally look like schizophrenia on those standard tests. Plus, the meds they put me on gave me terrible constipation, yet they just kept pushing the same pills anyway. Then they expect us to sit there and have these deep, meaningful conversations while we're basically drugged up. How am I supposed to actually talk to a psychiatrist when I'm high as a kite from their prescriptions? It's like being completely out of it because of these pills.
That's why I don't even bother talking to psychiatrists anymore. And none of them have a clue about my liver issues, either. Nobody bothered to note it down in my medical records. Not even a mention that I was transferred from the internal medicine ward—where they actually caught the liver problem—over to psychiatry.
And this last time? Absolutely nobody noted that I only checked myself into psychiatric care because of some intense family drama.
When I show up to see a doctor at CZMZ, all he's going to think is that I've been having hallucinations or whatever, because he won't have any idea that I only came in because I couldn't handle my life anymore. Between their constant intoxication, the petty arguments, and them just making things harder for me... it's a mess.
But I can't even bring that up to him. Because I'm dependent on my family, and if I speak up, they could easily toss me out onto the street.
Life is just grinding us down, plain and simple. I’m still sitting here with zero income. I finally have an appointment with my psychiatrist next week—it’s been three months since I got out of the hospital. He was away on vacation, but honestly, he’ll probably just extend my medical leave because the guy isn't doing great himself.
They slapped me with a paranoid schizophrenia diagnosis, even though I don't feel paranoid, I don't have hallucinations, and I don't deal with paranoia—not in my book, anyway. I’m antisocial, sure, but that’s just because I’m broke, my living situation sucks, and I'm dealing with some physical and mental health issues. People have been giving me advice on how to stop fighting the schizophrenia label so I can try to scrape together some social services and disability benefits. I need some immediate help, even if it's just a one-time payment, then hopefully long-term disability. It's necessary because neither I nor my family are doing well. Physically speaking.
I was lifting something heavy with someone else recently and it felt like I'd gained twenty pounds. I completely ran out of steam. I’ve always been lazy, but now it’s on another level. I’m a total wreck. I'm at 167 pounds right now. I've lost about 11 pounds, and I'm nearly 6'7". Mostly because I stopped eating three meals a day.
My family isn't in the best shape either, so I don't have much support to tackle any of this stuff I mentioned. And since I've already posted about how clueless I am with bureaucracy, let's just say I'm clumsy—clumsy in general, really. I’m being realistic here; I don't think this is just me being pessimistic or having low self-esteem. I’m just a weak, awkward guy, and I’ve always been this way. Like they say in Canada, I'm just a "Hafifan."
Hopefully, I can pull something together so life gets easier for me and my folks, because things can't go on like this. Life has squeezed the life out of me; everything is going downhill. We're drowning in debt and it's just getting worse.
If only I could make this happen more easily, it would be a massive relief for everyone involved.
Life doesn't show any mercy, but it seems to crush those of us with mental health struggles even harder, because, well, we don't exactly navigate the world better than everyone else.
So, Rebecca Rivera3, you're feeling better. Great. Really glad to hear that.
I’m doing alright mentally too—had a bit of a crisis the other day, but I'm over the hump—except my body isn't really cooperating right now. I was working on something and just completely ran out of steam. Total burnout. I think I'm officially retired from any kind of heavy lifting.
With this lower dose, things are actually feeling alright. I haven't totally ditched the meds, though—I’m not that reckless. I mean, sure, I might occasionally blank on a single pill here or there, but I haven't gone completely off the wagon.