Posts by Harold Anderson3

ruggedtinker9 said:I suppose one might wonder how it is even possible to decide to maintain a positive outlook when you are gripped by such a profound sense of misery. This feeling isn't something rational that you can simply reason away; it is an immutable state of being, an internal reality that exists regardless of logic. If it were actually within anyone's power to simply choose happiness and decide to feel good on command, life would be significantly less complicated. In such a hypothetical world, I imagine we wouldn't have any need for medications, controlled substances, psychotherapy, or all those other various interventions used to make people feel slightly more tolerable.
When your brain's reward centers are essentially numbed by medication, it seems almost inevitable that a person would end up feeling utterly wretched.

It’s possible that everything stems from a decision, but it happens on such an unconscious level. Nobody actually wants to be depressed. I grew up living with an incredibly high-strung, strict person who used to hit me and spent my entire childhood telling me I was useless. I don't live with her anymore, but I still find myself telling myself that I'm incompetent and worthless. It feels like I fell down as a child because of it, and I just haven't been able to get back up. I haven't always been successful at my jobs either, and I constantly find myself dwelling on those negative moments. Even medication can't fix everything, and honestly, it feels like therapy might not either... everything feels like such a struggle, and it's all so tangled up in my head. Does anyone else feel this way?

I thought I’d switch things up for a moment... while I could certainly dive into a discussion about medications, what I really want to talk about is how the negative symptoms have been absolutely washing over me these past couple of weeks. It feels like I'm just retreating further into myself and my own dark thoughts; I struggle with this heavy sense of worthlessness, and whenever I actually need to get something done, my brain just shuts down—I end up just staring blankly at the floor, lost in thought. Unlike a lot of other people dealing with schizophrenia, I feel like this was always part of my makeup, even back in early childhood. I started withdrawing into my own little world when I was just a kid, whereas most of my peers seemed to be functioning pretty normally before they were diagnosed. Because of that, it feels more like a slow, creeping progression for me, which makes me wonder if there's even much that can be changed at this point. I suppose I’d love for someone to try and convince me otherwise, but honestly, I'm feeling pretty pessimistic about how well I'll ever be able to function in society again.

David Vaughn75 said:I’ve got an F-16 diagnosis on my chart, but honestly? I’m pretty sure I’m dealing with post-schizophrenic depression right about now.

I can certainly relate to that feeling. When my worst psychotic episode hit, I was dealing with an F-16 diagnosis, and during my last stay at the hospital about two years ago, it had progressed to F20.4.

p.s. I’m also sitting here wondering why on earth Latiosa ended up getting banned.🤷

Rebecca James3 said:But how are you supposed to fix a problem that’s fundamentally unfixable? Schizophrenia—it stays with you for life. Period.

While it’s true that schizophrenia is a lifelong struggle in about 80% of cases, the reality is that most people can lead incredibly fulfilling lives if they have access to the right medication. There is such a wide range of antipsychotics available today that allows individuals to work, maintain relationships, and just live normally. Of course, having psychotherapy in the mix makes a world of difference too.
The real issue is that none of these tools really work if a person isn't proactive about their own health—if they stop taking their meds or skip their doctor appointments. When someone refuses to manage their condition, they end up causing a lot of unnecessary pain, mostly to themselves, but also to the people around them who care about them.

Rebecca James3 said:Given everything I’ve said—and everything I haven't even mentioned yet—I have zero intention of having kids.

Why? Because look, every parent just gives their kids whatever they can manage. Nobody's perfect, and obviously, not everyone is rolling in cash like a CEO at Goldman Sachs. You just give them what you've got, to the best of your ability. That's just how it works.

Why? Because look, every parent just gives their kids whatever they can manage. Nobody's perfect, and obviously, not everyone is rolling in cash like a CEO at Goldman Sachs. You just give them what you've got, to the best of your ability. That's just how it works.

Why? Because look, every parent just gives their kids whatever they can manage. Nobody's perfect, and obviously, not everyone is rolling in cash like a CEO at Goldman Sachs. You just give them what you've got, to the best of your ability. That's just how it works.
I also live with schizophrenia, and honestly, I doubt I’ll ever have children of my own. My girlfriend is actually dealing with acute psychosis right now, and she isn't interested in having kids either. The real difference between us is that while I might actually want them, I can reasonably conclude that bringing someone into this world would be incredibly irresponsible, since I wouldn't be able to provide a stable childhood. She just doesn't have the desire for it at all. It makes me wonder why my mom decided to have a child when she was also struggling with schizophrenia. But hey, that was her choice, and I respect it. I didn't get to choose to be born; she made that decision, and there's really no point in arguing over whether it was a mistake now...

Larry Lewis said:Turning aggression into something "useful" is easier said than done—it's a monumental task. Sure, you can suppress it with twenty pushups or... well, a few other private distractions, but that isn't "useful," and it certainly doesn't break any stigmas. You've actually given me something to chew on here... hmm.

Don't go copying anyone. You're at your best just being exactly who you are—good in bed, a little bit "off" in the head, and infinitely more interesting than 80% of those superficial types who only come out of hiding when the weather gets warm.

David Vaughn75: People who don't realize I'm schizo tend to smile at me; they find me interesting, both guys and girls. But the ones who actually *know* me... most of them keep me at arm's length.

I remember this one guy who killed a taxi driver, and the moment he got out of the psych ward, my crowd flocked to him—while I was treated like I didn't even exist.

Personally, I think the answer lies in love, but even that isn't a total cure—heaven knows it can bury you alive if you aren't careful—so I just watch beautiful women from a distance and deal with my mental baggage. God, what a mess.

I’ve been wrestling with this myself lately. It seems like most people who don't really know me well enough—even if they happen to know I live with schizophrenia—tend to get uneasy, and honestly, it might even be out of fear. They see those sensationalized headlines in the news about some individual with a psychotic disorder committing a violent crime against a family member or attacking a stranger, and because of that, they just lump everyone with the diagnosis into one big, scary category. To me, it feels like nothing more than pure, unadulterated stigma.
I mentioned to a few coworkers that I deal with SCH, and their reactions were honestly just... wow.
I mean, honestly, I can’t quite wrap my head around the whole situation—it’s like, you wouldn't exactly show up to a gathering carrying two grenades with the intention of blowing everyone to pieces, right? It’s just surreal. One person actually had the nerve to ask if I was carrying a knife, and then a third person went as far as asking if I was planning on killing them. I suppose they were mostly joking, though there was definitely a heavy layer of seriousness beneath it all that made things feel incredibly awkward. To be fair, I’ve never been the type to lash out at anyone, even during my darkest moments, and certainly not now that I’m staying consistent with my medication.

David Vaughn75 said:But look, it's not just the psychosis itself—it's the whole damn package deal. Once you're dealing with mental illness, you start spiraling about the diagnosis and how much it's gonna wreck your life.

That total dissatisfaction with life? That's actually way worse than the psychosis. Because at the end of the day, the world is real, and there isn't a pill for reality.

Personally, I’ve always felt that a little bit of madness can actually be a good thing if you keep it in check.
I've always had a pretty wild imagination, and I think that's fine, but things only get messy when you lose your grip on the boundaries. 😉

David Vaughn75 said:Honestly, even 5mg of Zyprexa is basically nothing—I’m sitting here on 20mg

And as for those dreams... what even is a "logical" dream? 😁

Oh, I should probably mention that I'm also taking 25 mg of Risperdal. We aren't touching the dosage for the Risperdal, but I am playing around with the Zyprexa a little bit. Honestly, I feel like I could turn any one of my dreams into a full-blown story. Some of them are actually intense enough to wake me up in the middle of the night. I was wondering if maybe there might be some connection there to the psychosis.🤷

My doctor recently decided to scale back my Zyprexa to 2.5 mg, hoping it might give me a bit more energy during the day. I also tried to reset my internal clock by staying up a little later and forcing myself to wake up early for a few days, but honestly, it didn't go quite as planned. I started noticing some subtle signs of psychosis creeping back in over the last few days, so I ended up having to bump my dosage back up to 5 mg. Now, while I'm sleeping a little longer, my dreams have become absolutely wild—they’re incredibly vivid and full of detail, even if they don't make any sense at all, and I remember every single thing about them. I went through something similar after that intense psychotic episode I had before I was fully stabilized. Has anyone else dealing with psychosis experienced this kind of intense dreaming?

ruggedmaker2 said:I’m pretty sure CNN starts the legal seizure process after just three missed payments. It’s basically a cycle—three months pass, they file for an injunction, then another three months go by and they do it all over again.
They aren't sitting around waiting for you to rack up a mountain of debt from a subscription; once those three installments hit, they come knocking.
If you haven't missed a ton of payments, you'll just end up dealing with a bunch of small, annoying legal headaches instead.

So, in that case, it would have been five sets of three. I was a little confused because the debt for each collection seemed to be around $100, but if the subscription is $80, that should total $240—though I suppose they probably tack on extra fees for those warning notices and stuff...

John Clark6 said:The statute of limitations is only a year away, which—honestly—doesn't leave me much breathing room to wait... and realistically, I could probably initiate a collection action for any age group at this point, so....
just make sure you're keeping a close eye on your bank accounts 🙂

Yeah, I'll definitely be more careful from now on; I guess we all learn from our mistakes. 🙂

So, I have a question regarding the actual amount being collected through this garnishment process. My mom fell behind on her cable subscription for a while—it was one of those "sometimes she paid, sometimes she didn't" situations. We're talking about maybe 15 to 20 individual bills. Well, she ended up getting hit with a garnishment, but it wasn't just one single action; she actually received five! It’s like for every $100 of debt, they slapped on an additional $333 enforcement proceeding, totaling $2167 separate actions altogether. Given that her Social Security benefits come in at $500, they've been withholding $167 every month for the last 13 months. At this point, almost everything is paid off, with just a little left over in May and then a tiny bit more in June. I honestly don't understand how it can be legal for the collection proceedings to be three times larger than the actual debt itself, or how a single company can launch five different garnishments all at once. I'm not blaming the cable provider here—I know it was our mistake for letting the subscription lapse—but I am looking at Mr. Hnžeković and his firm. I recently came across a list of the wealthiest Americans, and naturally, he’s on there, with the note that his fortune was built entirely on these types of collections. It feels pretty terrible, honestly.😠

David Vaughn75 said:Look, psychotherapy is basically going to point out where the cracks are and give you the theoretical roadmap you need to start fixing them. Once you finally wrap your head around how it all works, then comes the hard part—actually putting it into practice. That's when you can finally start calling yourself a healthy person.👍

Thanks for the explanation, my friend. I actually spent about two years in psychotherapy before I ended up dealing with psychosis. Back then, I was struggling with depression, and unfortunately, therapy didn't quite shield me from the psychotic break. I'm planning to start up again, though I'm not looking for some miraculous total cure—I just want to find ways to manage the symptoms more easily. To be honest, depression is still my primary hurdle, it's just that now I have the added layer of psychotic experiences, which is why I'm on antipsychotics as well. I'm not expecting any miracles, but I am hoping for some improvement, and at the end of the day, I know it all comes down to my own efforts. How has your experience been? 🙂

fadedlynx96 said:I am glad you made it through that stretch and that things are looking up for you now. Just stick to the treatment plan, and I am certain everything can be kept under control.

I finally cut myself off from all my medications about a year in, roughly nine months after I was discharged from the hospital.

They threw everything they could at me—OCD, paranoia, hebephrenia, panic disorders—and honestly, who wouldn't be panicking if they lived with the constant certainty that someone was coming to kill them at any given moment? Add psychosis and schizophrenia to that list, along with whatever else they decided to slap on my chart, and you have the full picture of what they diagnosed me with.

Smashing glass and self-harming aren't exactly winning strategies, and honestly, those behaviors basically guarantee you'll be stuck in a facility for the long haul. I was lucky enough to avoid destroying property or getting into physical altercations—well, mostly—but I noticed pretty quickly that anyone tearing doors off their hinges becomes a permanent resident in a straightjacket. Even though I kept things calm and acted completely rational, it didn't do much to stop me from pulling a three-month stint.

I always knew they were out to kill me. I understood that the medications and the injections were designed to erode my mind, but I hadn't quite come to terms with the fact that they intended to take my life entirely; I was simply waiting for the moment to defend myself against whoever came for me—which, looking back, clearly makes me a dangerous person since I was just sitting there waiting for someone to attack.

I am fairly dissatisfied with my treatment plan. As I have previously noted, much more could have been accomplished—perhaps everything—had we simply sat down for a meaningful conversation at the start. It was only after two months of ineffective medication and zero progress that my psychiatrist finally acknowledged something I had already brought to his attention, suggesting we verify it together before deciding if it held any merit. We did exactly that, but only after wasting two full months on drugs that offered no relief.

If someone had just sat me down and explained everything during those first couple of days, I probably wouldn't be spiraling further into this mess. I arrived at that small town in the Midwest with one single symptom to my name, yet I walked out a month later carrying thirty different, disconnected delusions that make absolutely no sense. Most of them were clearly hallucinations, though there’s a handful I still can't quite wrap my head around today. 😁).

To wrap this up, my lead psychiatrist once looked me dead in the eye and asked if I was pulling his leg or if I just wasn't sane. I never quite understood what prompted the question, but I took the opportunity every single time to tell him I was definitely messing with him, because I certainly wasn't going to admit to being anything else. I never actually figured out what I had done or said to trigger that reaction, but honestly, it was all just a bit of fun. I couldn't exactly ask him what the issue was without confirming his suspicions about my mental state, and I had no intention of blowing the few positive points I managed to scrape together.

OCD is OCD.
I personally think you shouldn't try to play games with your psychiatrist; if you're honest from the jump, things tend to resolve much faster. Besides, a good doctor will see through most attempts to hide things, especially psychotic symptoms. My doctor really pulled me through a dark time, and she's still helping me today—not just with mental health, but she even helped me secure my college scholarship. Regarding medication, I've been on about a quarter of my previous dosage for three and a half years now. I don't think there's any point in tapering off the antipsychotics further, at least not yet (I've stayed steady on a 25 mg dose of Risset 2 x 2).
The only way to keep psychosis under control is through medication, and even when you stop taking them, there's always that risk of it coming back. I stopped taking my meds on my own once, and my doctor admitted she made a mistake by letting me leave the hospital when I requested discharge. All of that cost me another six months of psychiatric care.
I don't think the illness would have progressed so much if someone had just explained the situation to you, but honestly, only the right combination of meds could have prevented the psychosis from developing further. Besides, your three months in the hospital isn't the end of the world. Just take care of your health now while you have it, because I'm sure you don't want to find yourself back in a ward.😉 I’m also holding onto the hope that I’ve already served my time and gotten through the worst of it 😁

David Vaughn75 said:Keep up the good work 👍

And just remember, the meds are only half the battle; the other half is the actual work you put into yourself. 🙂

ofkorz 🙂 involves putting in that steady, daily effort to grow, while also making sure I'm seeing a therapist on a regular basis. I actually have the chance to go to psychotherapy every two weeks, so I definitely plan on taking full advantage of that. It can only help me move forward.

fadedlynx96 said: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.

It was simply what needed to happen. Even after those initial six months, I ended up stuck at home for another four because the medication was just too heavy for me to work. To be honest, I didn't really care whether I was recovering at home or in a hospital setting; if anything, being in the hospital felt better because the supervision was more consistent and everything was more organized.

When I finally made it to the hospital—after spending two days wandering around lost in these terrifying hallucinations—they told me they needed to give me an injection, and I honestly convinced myself the police had ordered them to kill me. I actually made my peace with it, thinking, "Well, I guess I'm dying for my country." After that, the paranoia subsided, but a few days later, the hallucinations were still so bad that I couldn't even tell the difference between black and white shapes while playing chess with a roommate. That’s when the depression hit—this massive, crushing low caused by some stupid mistake I made while in a state of psychosis. I ended up breaking a mirror and cutting myself with a shard of glass. At the time, I somehow rationalized that I had to do it because it was what was expected of me. My doctor told me I wasn't doing well because I had somehow embraced my own illness (which I mentioned before). She adjusted my treatment and ramped up the dosage, which meant I spent most of my time sleeping rather than being awake. There were also these compulsive behaviors, a sort of OCD, which added to everything, ultimately stretching my stay out to six months.
Things have been looking up since then, especially since I've been consistently taking my medication for almost four years now.🙂

William Evans10 said:Here is a rather trivial example of how I view things based on what you wrote to me (and you wrote it quite well).

For instance, I absolutely love watching movies, mostly horror films and psychological thrillers (though I have no idea why, since they always get under my skin).

I’ll watch a good horror or thriller with my husband (like *Signs*, for example), and afterward... I know it is almost certainly all fiction, but I still feel a sense of fear. In other words, I find myself thinking about it for the next few days, I feel afraid, and I end up reading things about it online or researching it a bit, only to stumble upon all sorts of things. Even though I know it likely doesn't exist, I still experience this discomfort and fear.

I realize this example might be a bit silly, but that is generally how everything seems to me.

I was reading some of your previous posts...
If I recall correctly (or perhaps I mixed it up), you were originally diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder?

That's actually a pretty good comparison, though it would be more like being inside the movie itself—as if you truly believed what you saw on screen was happening to you in real life. My mother used to get incredibly paranoid about her own mom, convinced she was a witch or some kind of sorceress.
As for me, mine were more like realistic paranoias, conspiracy theories, and delusions—more like something out of an action movie rather than a horror flick.😁
Initially, I was diagnosed with schizotypal disorder (F21) because I didn't meet the full criteria for schizophrenia, but once I stopped taking my medication, it progressed into paranoid schizophrenia (F20.0).

fadedlynx96 said: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.

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.

William Evans10 said:I actually asked this exact same thing in my previous post.
Are they all bad people?
Isn't it strange to think that absolutely everyone has conspired together just to do harm?
Especially if this is the second or third time it's happened, and you already know from past experiences that you might have just "imagined" it all?
If you've been through a similar situation before, only to find out later that nothing was wrong and nobody was following you?

The whole thing is just terrifying...

And completely incomprehensible... though I imagine it feels truly horrific in that moment.

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.

Gary Martinez11 said:You really only have two paths here: either he stays in a mental health facility—where you both can visit one another and maintain that connection—or he moves in with you and your husband. I realize it won't always be easy, obviously, but isn't that the whole point of marriage? "In sickness and in health" and all that—it’s practically baked into the vows. If he’s a genuinely good man who truly loves you, I suppose it shouldn't feel like such an overwhelming sacrifice.

As far as benefits go, I suppose he should be eligible for some kind of financial assistance. I have an uncle who deals with schizoid disorder, and he receives a certain amount through... $867.

I'm not entirely sure how your uncle qualified for his benefits, but my mom lives with schizophrenia, and after fifteen years in the workforce, her Social Security checks come out to roughly $500.

rapiddriver23 said:Hey there

My brother’s been dealing with schizoaffective disorder for about ten years now—he just turned 35. Over the last couple of years, things have gotten really rough; he’s constantly cycling through different meds and just can't seem to find any stability. Honestly, even basic hygiene is a struggle—I basically have to tell him how to take care of himself. He doesn't really have a social life, and hasn't had a girlfriend since he first got sick. Our dad passed away two years ago, and my mom is disabled, so I’m constantly spiraling thinking... if he can't stay steady, what happens to him when she's gone? He isn't working—partly because he can't get stable due to the paranoia, and partly because he has zero income.
What does this mean for my own life? I'm at that stage where I'm thinking about starting my own family soon. But every single day—and I mean every day—I'm worrying about him. Will I end up being his sole caregiver for the rest of my life? Would his behavior eventually drive me insane? (And yeah, I know that sounds selfish, but it's how I feel.) The brother I used to know has been gone for years. It’s honestly making me slip into a depression myself; even when I'm out grabbing coffee with friends, my mind just drifts to him and everything he's facing. I am terrified, and I don't see any way out. I'm scared he'll end up homeless, or that he'll start self-medicating with alcohol so heavily that we'll find him passed out on the sidewalk.

Has anyone else gone through something like this?

I have a situation that’s somewhat similar yet quite different. In my family, everyone is a little "unbalanced," including myself. I live with my mother and my grandmother. Even though my grandmother is still relatively vital, she’s elderly and could pass away at any moment. My mother is younger and lives with schizophrenia, but she's completely inactive, and lately, she's developed diabetes due to her weight. While diabetes can stem from many things, she really struggled with her weight. She's on a diet now, so hopefully things improve, but she just won't move; she's too lethargic to even chop wood, so my grandmother handles that. As for me, I also have schizophrenia, but thank God, I’ve been in a pretty solid remission for over three years now. Do I worry about my mom after my grandmother passes? Not excessively. I’ll help her, just as I do now, but I refuse to sacrifice my entire life for her. She didn't bring me into this world to be her caretaker, but to live my own life.
It sounds like you're in a similar spot. Help your brother, certainly, but please set some boundaries. I truly believe he has the capacity to do a lot on his own. It seems to me that his current struggles are largely because he keeps stopping his treatment. He is capable of taking his medication two or three times a day, and honestly, no one can force him to get better if he isn't willing to do the work himself.
You mentioned your mother is also disabled. What's her situation like? Maybe talk to her; I suspect she might actually be able to play a role in helping your brother find some momentum.