Schizophrenia - General Discussion

I believe this kind of situation often develops due to a genetic predisposition triggered by specific stressors. Whether it reaches a breaking point or doesn't manifest at all usually depends on one's environment.
In my case, my entire father's side of the family deals with illness. For the past year, I didn't face major issues beyond some depression, but then everything else started hitting me. To be honest, I probably should have been hospitalized several times more; my intelligence always seems to pull me through, or at least that’s what my psychiatrist claims. When a psychosis hit me—one I hadn't mentioned to anyone before—I ended up lying on the floor under a blanket with nothing but a towel for cover. I genuinely thought the world outside was shaking and that if I got off the floor, I would die. I stayed there for days, taking whatever medication I had just to numb myself enough to quiet the voices, repeating that cycle until I finally found the strength to get up. I was terrified of it happening again.
When I looked in the mirror, I saw a total stranger. Once I pulled myself together and saw how neglected I looked—thin, disheveled, with long hair because I couldn't bring myself to care for it—it became too much to handle. I realized things had gone too far. There was nothing left to do but learn to live with it and try to pull myself together, which is exactly what I've attempted to do.
However, it has returned, and I find myself withdrawing inward. I am deeply afraid of losing my mind. I don't talk about my psychotic episodes anymore; instead, I hide them because I'm scared of being institutionalized or something worse. When it takes hold, I lose control, so I shut myself away where no one can see or hear me, just waiting for it to pass.

Visionary, I also struggle with stomach issues because of my lack of eating, so I rely on various tablets and ointments for my stomach.

And now I’m supposed to start antipsychotics, but I really don't want to. I admit, I haven't been taking them. The reason is simple: they don't even work for my specific condition, and they would just sedate me even further until I become a complete zombie, which I refuse to be.

It’s just like this from time to time... whenever I start talking more, I tend to withdraw. I rarely go out for coffee with anyone; usually, I only leave the house when absolutely necessary.
I just want to be healthy. Is that really too much to ask?

Rebecca Rivera3 said:I believe this kind of situation often develops due to a genetic predisposition triggered by specific stressors. Whether it reaches a breaking point or doesn't manifest at all usually depends on one's environment.
In my case, my entire father's side of the family deals with illness. For the past year, I didn't face major issues beyond some depression, but then everything else started hitting me. To be honest, I probably should have been hospitalized several times more; my intelligence always seems to pull me through, or at least that’s what my psychiatrist claims. When a psychosis hit me—one I hadn't mentioned to anyone before—I ended up lying on the floor under a blanket with nothing but a towel for cover. I genuinely thought the world outside was shaking and that if I got off the floor, I would die. I stayed there for days, taking whatever medication I had just to numb myself enough to quiet the voices, repeating that cycle until I finally found the strength to get up. I was terrified of it happening again.
When I looked in the mirror, I saw a total stranger. Once I pulled myself together and saw how neglected I looked—thin, disheveled, with long hair because I couldn't bring myself to care for it—it became too much to handle. I realized things had gone too far. There was nothing left to do but learn to live with it and try to pull myself together, which is exactly what I've attempted to do.
However, it has returned, and I find myself withdrawing inward. I am deeply afraid of losing my mind. I don't talk about my psychotic episodes anymore; instead, I hide them because I'm scared of being institutionalized or something worse. When it takes hold, I lose control, so I shut myself away where no one can see or hear me, just waiting for it to pass.

Visionary, I also struggle with stomach issues because of my lack of eating, so I rely on various tablets and ointments for my stomach.

And now I’m supposed to start antipsychotics, but I really don't want to. I admit, I haven't been taking them. The reason is simple: they don't even work for my specific condition, and they would just sedate me even further until I become a complete zombie, which I refuse to be.

It’s just like this from time to time... whenever I start talking more, I tend to withdraw. I rarely go out for coffee with anyone; usually, I only leave the house when absolutely necessary.
I just want to be healthy. Is that really too much to ask?

Look, don't leave this untreated and hope it just heals itself. It won't. In my experience, I've been through this ten times already—four years in a state similar to yours: hearing voices, compulsions, hitting myself in the head with my fists. Nothing went away on its own until I actually started taking antipsychotics. They won't turn you into a zombie. At least, they don't for everyone.
You have to try several different ones if necessary until you find the right fit.
I was on high doses of all sorts before eventually settling on Zeldox. I thought I'd never get rid of the voices. But I did—they're gone. Great! Then, I thought I’d never stop the compulsive behaviors—having to repeat everything fifty times or being unable to calm down. That cleared up too. Great!!
The point is, the medication works—you just have to find the right match. Start taking the meds! As time goes on, things will likely get worse, not better, without them.
With these antipsychotics, you can tell pretty quickly if one isn't working for you—within a week or two, you'll notice if it's too heavy-handed. You have the right to ask your doctor to switch medications if they aren't sitting right with you. They cannot refuse you.
I am living proof that these drugs work. My voices and compulsions are resolved. Sure, sometimes I think life wouldn't be so bad if I weren't here, but even healthy people think that when they're constantly hunting for jobs and worrying about the future.
Start looking for the medication that works for you!!! Psychoses don't just vanish. That's why, in the old days, mental health patients were kept in institutions for thirty years. We don't have those kinds of cases anymore. With medication, people live normally at home or hold down jobs if they can. Or if they're lucky enough to work. MEDICATIONS—a huge YES for that!

I was saddened to read your posts, Richard White8, and... they truly touched me...
Over the last few months, I’ve been dealing with compulsions where I find myself rearranging things, or getting up about 15 times before bed just to pace around the room. I lie back down feeling like I've finally hit a reset button, hoping everything will be okay...

I've never experienced those phases of depersonalization, so I can't imagine how you managed to handle that. Honestly, hats off to you... much respect for everything you've endured over those four years.

I'm honestly undecided about starting the medication. I need to see how I feel over the next few weeks before making a final call. To be honest, I'm already dealing with a significant amount of emotional numbness and emptiness, and I'm worried about what these drugs might do to me. That numbness is the hardest part of everything; there isn't really a cure for it. It makes living a normal life nearly impossible when you feel indifferent toward almost everything.

As for the compulsions, I actually downplayed things when I said 15. I have a tendency to minimize my struggles. In reality, my better days are closer to 15, but if I'm being completely honest, the number is more likely around 30.

Rebecca Rivera3 said:I'm honestly undecided about starting the medication. I need to see how I feel over the next few weeks before making a final call. To be honest, I'm already dealing with a significant amount of emotional numbness and emptiness, and I'm worried about what these drugs might do to me. That numbness is the hardest part of everything; there isn't really a cure for it. It makes living a normal life nearly impossible when you feel indifferent toward almost everything.

As for the compulsions, I actually downplayed things when I said 15. I have a tendency to minimize my struggles. In reality, my better days are closer to 15, but if I'm being completely honest, the number is more likely around 30.

Thank you; it has been hell. No one has it easy, and psychosis is arguably worse than cancer—once you diagnose it, you treat it. These are our crucifies. When someone repeats themselves thirty times, believe me, I know how exhausting that is. Things can get worse, or at least they did for me. Emotional numbness is also a symptom of the illness. I sense you have a massive resistance to medication, but you should know they work. Perhaps you just haven't found the right antidepressant yet. I attend a support group where all the women take something—antidepressants or antipsychotics—and almost everyone is doing better because of it. Just try it for a few months. Even though it can take a year or two to see full results.
The meds aren't perfect, but they produce results. My friend would be hospitalized constantly if it weren't for his medication. He takes high doses, yet he works and functions perfectly normally.

Rebecca Rivera3 said:I believe this kind of situation often develops due to a genetic predisposition triggered by specific stressors. Whether it reaches a breaking point or doesn't manifest at all usually depends on one's environment.
In my case, my entire father's side of the family deals with illness. For the past year, I didn't face major issues beyond some depression, but then everything else started hitting me. To be honest, I probably should have been hospitalized several times more; my intelligence always seems to pull me through, or at least that’s what my psychiatrist claims. When a psychosis hit me—one I hadn't mentioned to anyone before—I ended up lying on the floor under a blanket with nothing but a towel for cover. I genuinely thought the world outside was shaking and that if I got off the floor, I would die. I stayed there for days, taking whatever medication I had just to numb myself enough to quiet the voices, repeating that cycle until I finally found the strength to get up. I was terrified of it happening again.
When I looked in the mirror, I saw a total stranger. Once I pulled myself together and saw how neglected I looked—thin, disheveled, with long hair because I couldn't bring myself to care for it—it became too much to handle. I realized things had gone too far. There was nothing left to do but learn to live with it and try to pull myself together, which is exactly what I've attempted to do.
However, it has returned, and I find myself withdrawing inward. I am deeply afraid of losing my mind. I don't talk about my psychotic episodes anymore; instead, I hide them because I'm scared of being institutionalized or something worse. When it takes hold, I lose control, so I shut myself away where no one can see or hear me, just waiting for it to pass.

Visionary, I also struggle with stomach issues because of my lack of eating, so I rely on various tablets and ointments for my stomach.

And now I’m supposed to start antipsychotics, but I really don't want to. I admit, I haven't been taking them. The reason is simple: they don't even work for my specific condition, and they would just sedate me even further until I become a complete zombie, which I refuse to be.

It’s just like this from time to time... whenever I start talking more, I tend to withdraw. I rarely go out for coffee with anyone; usually, I only leave the house when absolutely necessary.
I just want to be healthy. Is that really too much to ask?

Look, we have to eat. Seriously, it’s not like I’m talking about one bad day where you skip lunch—I’m talking about going 14 to 20 hours without a bite, day after day. That’s exactly how I ended up dropping down to 138 pounds and landing myself in the hospital, for crying out loud. It all stems from family stuff. We’ve been getting squeezed from every direction—money troubles, health issues, and then just the usual everyday friction and bickering. Honestly, whenever I get into it with my folks, I just can't eat. I end up skipping meals entirely. It isn't some weird way of punishing them, or even punishing myself—it’s not that kind of thing—it’s just that once I reach that point, I’m just completely done. My stomach is totally full, and not in a good way.

Honestly, it feels like we’re all just getting squeezed by life lately—between the stuff Rebecca Rivera3 is dealing with, what you're going through, and my own mess, it's a lot. And don't even get me started on the health side of things. It’s scary how much goes unnoticed—all those illnesses that just simmer under the surface before they actually show up. We aren't exactly firing on all cylinders physically, either. It's just one thing after another.

I mean, I know—or maybe I just heard this story once—about some guy who dealt with these constant headaches for years. Nobody believed him, obviously. Everyone probably just thought he was being dramatic or something, but then it turns out he actually had a tumor. If I’m remembering that right, at least.

Maybe a lot of us are dealing with some kind of hormonal imbalance. Personally, I’m pretty sure that’s what’s going on with me—mostly because I think I might be LGBT, and it’s that little "T" at the end that really sticks in my mind. Honestly, I’ve been sitting with that thought for a long time now. At the end of the day, I know my own body better than anyone else, right? I can actually feel the shifts happening—it’s not just all in my head. There are visible changes, too. It's real.

Rebecca Rivera3 said:I believe this kind of situation often develops due to a genetic predisposition triggered by specific stressors. Whether it reaches a breaking point or doesn't manifest at all usually depends on one's environment.
In my case, my entire father's side of the family deals with illness. For the past year, I didn't face major issues beyond some depression, but then everything else started hitting me. To be honest, I probably should have been hospitalized several times more; my intelligence always seems to pull me through, or at least that’s what my psychiatrist claims. When a psychosis hit me—one I hadn't mentioned to anyone before—I ended up lying on the floor under a blanket with nothing but a towel for cover. I genuinely thought the world outside was shaking and that if I got off the floor, I would die. I stayed there for days, taking whatever medication I had just to numb myself enough to quiet the voices, repeating that cycle until I finally found the strength to get up. I was terrified of it happening again.
When I looked in the mirror, I saw a total stranger. Once I pulled myself together and saw how neglected I looked—thin, disheveled, with long hair because I couldn't bring myself to care for it—it became too much to handle. I realized things had gone too far. There was nothing left to do but learn to live with it and try to pull myself together, which is exactly what I've attempted to do.
However, it has returned, and I find myself withdrawing inward. I am deeply afraid of losing my mind. I don't talk about my psychotic episodes anymore; instead, I hide them because I'm scared of being institutionalized or something worse. When it takes hold, I lose control, so I shut myself away where no one can see or hear me, just waiting for it to pass.

Visionary, I also struggle with stomach issues because of my lack of eating, so I rely on various tablets and ointments for my stomach.

And now I’m supposed to start antipsychotics, but I really don't want to. I admit, I haven't been taking them. The reason is simple: they don't even work for my specific condition, and they would just sedate me even further until I become a complete zombie, which I refuse to be.

It’s just like this from time to time... whenever I start talking more, I tend to withdraw. I rarely go out for coffee with anyone; usually, I only leave the house when absolutely necessary.
I just want to be healthy. Is that really too much to ask?

Nah. Most of us just want a little bit of peace and quiet, too.👍

Carol Barrett2 said:Look, we have to eat. Seriously, it’s not like I’m talking about one bad day where you skip lunch—I’m talking about going 14 to 20 hours without a bite, day after day. That’s exactly how I ended up dropping down to 138 pounds and landing myself in the hospital, for crying out loud. It all stems from family stuff. We’ve been getting squeezed from every direction—money troubles, health issues, and then just the usual everyday friction and bickering. Honestly, whenever I get into it with my folks, I just can't eat. I end up skipping meals entirely. It isn't some weird way of punishing them, or even punishing myself—it’s not that kind of thing—it’s just that once I reach that point, I’m just completely done. My stomach is totally full, and not in a good way.

Honestly, it feels like we’re all just getting squeezed by life lately—between the stuff Rebecca Rivera3 is dealing with, what you're going through, and my own mess, it's a lot. And don't even get me started on the health side of things. It’s scary how much goes unnoticed—all those illnesses that just simmer under the surface before they actually show up. We aren't exactly firing on all cylinders physically, either. It's just one thing after another.

I mean, I know—or maybe I just heard this story once—about some guy who dealt with these constant headaches for years. Nobody believed him, obviously. Everyone probably just thought he was being dramatic or something, but then it turns out he actually had a tumor. If I’m remembering that right, at least.

Maybe a lot of us are dealing with some kind of hormonal imbalance. Personally, I’m pretty sure that’s what’s going on with me—mostly because I think I might be LGBT, and it’s that little "T" at the end that really sticks in my mind. Honestly, I’ve been sitting with that thought for a long time now. At the end of the day, I know my own body better than anyone else, right? I can actually feel the shifts happening—it’s not just all in my head. There are visible changes, too. It's real.

I also avoid eating. I just smoke and drink coffee, then eat late at night. I am LGBT as well. But I don't "think" it—I know it. And it isn't caused by hormonal issues. However, these habits can certainly trigger psychological struggles.

Look, I get it, but I don't have any hard proof. How am I even supposed to confirm if I'm intersex? You'd need a full genetic test for that. And honestly, I don't smoke—though I am a total coffee addict, knocking back two massive, overflowing mugs a day just to feel human. I need that caffeine hit to shake me awake; otherwise, I’m basically a zombie because my sleep is a wreck... maybe it's chronic fatigue, who knows. But whatever, I'm just saying—none of us are exactly at peak physical health these days, and that definitely takes a toll on your mental state. Toss in all the other stressors—money troubles, messy relationships, the whole nine yards—and it's a lot to carry.

Carol Barrett2 said:Look, I get it, but I don't have any hard proof. How am I even supposed to confirm if I'm intersex? You'd need a full genetic test for that. And honestly, I don't smoke—though I am a total coffee addict, knocking back two massive, overflowing mugs a day just to feel human. I need that caffeine hit to shake me awake; otherwise, I’m basically a zombie because my sleep is a wreck... maybe it's chronic fatigue, who knows. But whatever, I'm just saying—none of us are exactly at peak physical health these days, and that definitely takes a toll on your mental state. Toss in all the other stressors—money troubles, messy relationships, the whole nine yards—and it's a lot to carry.

Exactly, and these heavy medications just drain your body. You need to eat plenty of vitamins and fruit, which I don't do. I supplement heavily with vitamins, Omega-3, magnesium, and curcumin. I definitely have less energy than I did before starting the meds. These drugs cause excessive sleepiness, yet sometimes you can't sleep at all. They have downsides, certainly, but they have upsides too. In my case, the medication had its benefits. Psychiatrists know their stuff, but if any of them had actually lived through psychosis and taken these drugs themselves, they might think differently. And honestly, with these diagnoses, functioning is hard enough, let alone working. Why doesn't the government provide some form of assistance or disability support? I wouldn't even dare ask to be declared disabled; what would happen to me then?
In England, people receive social assistance if they are over 330 pounds or have certain illnesses, and the state helps them. But here in America, you have to hide the fact that you were ever sick. If you show up for a job interview and mention you've dealt with psychosis or schizophrenia, your chances of getting hired are zero. It’s easiest for those working at state institutions. Luckily, a friend of mine works at a university, so no one can fault him for being ill or fire him for it. But if you work for a private company and end up in the psych ward three times in a year, you'd be fired on the spot.

It's not like we chose this. Who in their right mind would choose mental illness? If you're treating cancer, everyone is full of compassion, but if you're treating schizophrenia, you're labeled a lunatic and everyone avoids you. That's why it's best not to tell anyone what's really going on. Just your closest friends. Maybe not even family.
I'm looking for work, but I don't know if I'm capable of enduring eight hours of labor every single day. What kind of divine punishment is this? We'll all go to paradise like saints. Or perhaps in the next reincarnation, we'll all be Buddhas. haha

Richard White8 said:Right, I neglected to mention that I dealt with depersonalization. That lasted about five or six years before the psychosis set in. I would essentially become whoever impressed me most. It felt as though that person was actually me—as if my face, my body, and my very movements belonged to them. I felt like them, both internally and externally. It was incredibly disruptive. I used to beat myself up, thinking I was just some poser imitating others, but I wasn't imitating anyone; I truly felt like they were me. I couldn't even take public transit—like riding the subway—because I felt everyone was staring at me. I couldn't meet anyone's eyes; I could only stare at the floor or a single spot. Eventually, the sensation of being watched on a bus became unbearable, so I started taking Ubers instead. It’s a terrifying feeling—everyone staring at you, knowing exactly what you're thinking. This went on for years prior to the actual psychotic break.
So, looking back, it was all pre-psychotic. It was just a cumulative buildup. And here is another diagnostic surprise: I spent two years living with auditory hallucinations, behaving aggressively but without any compulsions. Then, in the third year of hearing voices, I started arranging everything symmetrically—left to right, front to back. I would go back into the bathroom twenty-five times just to check if the shampoo bottle was positioned left, right, or centered. It drove me insane, worse than the voices themselves. The problem was that the voices eventually began commanding me to perform these actions. When that happened, a snake-like rage would boil up inside me, and I would start punching myself in the face. My face would be bruised and swollen every few days. I even cracked two dental fillings from the impact. I endured all of this simply because I didn't realize I was in a state of psychosis.

Perhaps if I had started on anxiolytics or certain antidepressants earlier, I might have avoided this. Instead, it had to be handled with heavy-duty antipsychotics.

Depersonalization is, unfortunately, a term that everyone experiences differently, and psychiatrists often don't quite grasp the nuances—some haven't even heard of certain variations of it. Usually, it's used to describe symptoms within dissociative disorders, which are rooted in anxiety stemming from a specific trauma, so it doesn't quite align with what you're describing. What you're talking about sounds more like "depersonalization" in a much more literal sense, which points more toward psychosis rather than the typical dissociation or derealization linked to a dissociative disorder.

You're certainly an interesting case, though I suspect there is something deeper going on than just simple stress. Plenty of people head off to war and experience horrific things, developing PTSD, yet they typically don't develop psychosis or signs of schizophrenia.

That's why it surprises me that you developed such intense, long-term psychosis without any genetic predisposition. Personally, I don't think stress played much of a role here.
As for marijuana, it can definitely act as a trigger for schizophrenia in individuals who are already predisposed to it.
It would likely trigger derealization for me too, since my brain tends to lean that way in certain situations. Though, honestly, so many people experience derealization from smoking weed that it’s enough reason for anyone with half a brain to avoid it entirely. It might happen once, or it might happen a thousand times, but personally, I wouldn't take that risk.

I’ve got to head over to my crazy therapist today. Honestly, I’m hoping I don't walk back in here and snap at anyone. Consider this my pre-emptive apology. Please, just bear with me. She’s going to drill me again. It’s always the same loop: "How are you doing?" "What's cooking?" "Are you taking care of yourself?" Like, seriously, if you actually want to help, just hand me a million dollars, find me a great girl, and get me a house in a nice suburb so I can actually get my life together instead of dealing with this nonsense. It feels like I'm talking to a toddler sometimes. You never know which way she's going to swing. It’s like she's playing games with my head. It's exhausting. And I feel like I can't even change; everyone is exactly the same. So, apologies in advance if I show up home looking absolutely livid. I’ll try my best to keep it together.

Just wanted to give you all a quick update—today went surprisingly well. I was actually feeling pretty anxious beforehand, telling myself, "Look, they’re just people too, nothing special," and I even had a few questions lined up. Then, things got a little weird right off the bat. My neighbor tried to strike up a conversation while I was heading out, and then, well, I tried to be friendly with a lady on my way there, but she practically bolted. I guess maybe she wasn't used to someone being so direct? Like, "Oh my god, why is this man talking to me?" I told myself, "Stay cool, man," because I really didn't want to come off as intense, but she ended up getting pretty annoyed, so I just kept moving. Eventually, I ran into my sister outside. She gave me a "good day," and I replied with this weird, strained voice, "good day." Once I got into the waiting room, she told me to grab my medical files and paperwork. I just said, "Okay." Honestly, the place was miserable—no AC, everyone was huffing and puffing through the heat, and the whole vibe was just totally lifeless. When it was finally my turn, I walked in and said, "good day" with a big smile. The nurse was wearing a plain t-shirt, looking very casual. As I sat down, she asked, "Is it hot out there?" It caught me off guard. I mean, it wasn't quite "death by heatstroke" levels, so I just said, "It’s warm, but I'm handling it okay." She goes, "Oh, you young people always handle it better." She looked maybe ten years older than me, so I offered some advice: "Well, just put a frozen water bottle in front of a fan." She just looked at me and said, "Yeah, that works." I just sat there in silence. I could tell the conversation was turning into one of those awkward, pitying exchanges where we're both just trying to be polite, so I decided to jump straight to the point. I asked her, "Can I have kids while I'm taking these medications?" I explained the situation, and she just said, "Yes." Then she asked, "Do you think it's in your genes?" To which I said, "Yes." She followed up with, "It's not in the genes, it's about what the child inherits from you and your mother." I just smiled and said, "Ah, well..." because, honestly, it felt a bit nonsensical to me. I've always thought a disease is more of a consequence than a predetermined genetic destiny. Anyway, we said our goodbyes. She mentioned seeing me again in September, and I managed to squeeze out a strained, "Thank you, goodbye." All in all, I feel a million times better than I did before. I've been drinking that ginger tonic since Tuesday, and I think I've actually lost a couple of pounds. I was 189, but I can definitely tell by my gut that it's dropping. They say ginger balances digestion, helps with weight loss, and is great for detoxing the lungs. So, I'm sticking with it. Who knows what else might help?

Maybe I'm wrong, but I've noticed one thing: highly spiritual and intelligent people seem to lean toward these kinds of illnesses more often...
And it’s honestly sad. That's why I find myself clinging to the idea of getting my PhD if I can manage it. It feels like it might offer some solace. Between my concentration issues, compulsions, social phobia—not to mention everything else that's even worse—getting through college is a struggle. Just functioning in life is hard. I see you all wondering if you could even handle an eight-hour workday; I ask myself the same thing. When I finally get to campus, I wonder if I'll have the stamina to stay through a lecture, show up, and actually look okay doing it.
It's embarrassing to deal with mental health struggles. Richard White8 described it perfectly; you don't want even your closest family to know. You feel ashamed, like it makes you weak or lesser than everyone else... though it shouldn't be that way.
Vitamins help, but they make me nauseous. Most pills do, and my stomach is just a mess. I don't smoke or drink, though I do love coffee—even if it gives me heartburn. In the evenings, while the rest of the world is asleep, I love to just lie down and stare at the stars, imagining I'm on some distant planet far away from all these problems.

Raymond Walker5 said:Depersonalization is, unfortunately, a term that everyone experiences differently, and psychiatrists often don't quite grasp the nuances—some haven't even heard of certain variations of it. Usually, it's used to describe symptoms within dissociative disorders, which are rooted in anxiety stemming from a specific trauma, so it doesn't quite align with what you're describing. What you're talking about sounds more like "depersonalization" in a much more literal sense, which points more toward psychosis rather than the typical dissociation or derealization linked to a dissociative disorder.

You're certainly an interesting case, though I suspect there is something deeper going on than just simple stress. Plenty of people head off to war and experience horrific things, developing PTSD, yet they typically don't develop psychosis or signs of schizophrenia.

That's why it surprises me that you developed such intense, long-term psychosis without any genetic predisposition. Personally, I don't think stress played much of a role here.
As for marijuana, it can definitely act as a trigger for schizophrenia in individuals who are already predisposed to it.
It would likely trigger derealization for me too, since my brain tends to lean that way in certain situations. Though, honestly, so many people experience derealization from smoking weed that it’s enough reason for anyone with half a brain to avoid it entirely. It might happen once, or it might happen a thousand times, but personally, I wouldn't take that risk.

Are you perhaps practicing according to a specific psychotherapeutic school of thought? In American hospitals, most psychiatrists specialize in biological psychiatry—they claim everything stems from increased stress and overloaded coping mechanisms, rarely leaning on genetic theories. The human psyche remains terra incognita; it is largely unexplored, and individual cases frequently defy statistics and textbooks. They lack the actual instruments to measure the cause and effect of these disorders. My own psychiatrist admitted this because she is an honest woman. There are plenty of doctors who pretend to be all-knowing, yet everyone just ends up on antipsychotics and Zyprexa, depending on how the medication hits them.

Jose Ward4 said:Just wanted to give you all a quick update—today went surprisingly well. I was actually feeling pretty anxious beforehand, telling myself, "Look, they’re just people too, nothing special," and I even had a few questions lined up. Then, things got a little weird right off the bat. My neighbor tried to strike up a conversation while I was heading out, and then, well, I tried to be friendly with a lady on my way there, but she practically bolted. I guess maybe she wasn't used to someone being so direct? Like, "Oh my god, why is this man talking to me?" I told myself, "Stay cool, man," because I really didn't want to come off as intense, but she ended up getting pretty annoyed, so I just kept moving. Eventually, I ran into my sister outside. She gave me a "good day," and I replied with this weird, strained voice, "good day." Once I got into the waiting room, she told me to grab my medical files and paperwork. I just said, "Okay." Honestly, the place was miserable—no AC, everyone was huffing and puffing through the heat, and the whole vibe was just totally lifeless. When it was finally my turn, I walked in and said, "good day" with a big smile. The nurse was wearing a plain t-shirt, looking very casual. As I sat down, she asked, "Is it hot out there?" It caught me off guard. I mean, it wasn't quite "death by heatstroke" levels, so I just said, "It’s warm, but I'm handling it okay." She goes, "Oh, you young people always handle it better." She looked maybe ten years older than me, so I offered some advice: "Well, just put a frozen water bottle in front of a fan." She just looked at me and said, "Yeah, that works." I just sat there in silence. I could tell the conversation was turning into one of those awkward, pitying exchanges where we're both just trying to be polite, so I decided to jump straight to the point. I asked her, "Can I have kids while I'm taking these medications?" I explained the situation, and she just said, "Yes." Then she asked, "Do you think it's in your genes?" To which I said, "Yes." She followed up with, "It's not in the genes, it's about what the child inherits from you and your mother." I just smiled and said, "Ah, well..." because, honestly, it felt a bit nonsensical to me. I've always thought a disease is more of a consequence than a predetermined genetic destiny. Anyway, we said our goodbyes. She mentioned seeing me again in September, and I managed to squeeze out a strained, "Thank you, goodbye." All in all, I feel a million times better than I did before. I've been drinking that ginger tonic since Tuesday, and I think I've actually lost a couple of pounds. I was 189, but I can definitely tell by my gut that it's dropping. They say ginger balances digestion, helps with weight loss, and is great for detoxing the lungs. So, I'm sticking with it. Who knows what else might help?

Yeah, ginger and turmeric are fantastic! Mixing turmeric and ginger with a teaspoon of honey—that's what I used to drink, and I felt great. I don't know why I stopped. Pure laziness. But keep at it; it'll do you good.

Rebecca Rivera3 said:Maybe I'm wrong, but I've noticed one thing: highly spiritual and intelligent people seem to lean toward these kinds of illnesses more often...
And it’s honestly sad. That's why I find myself clinging to the idea of getting my PhD if I can manage it. It feels like it might offer some solace. Between my concentration issues, compulsions, social phobia—not to mention everything else that's even worse—getting through college is a struggle. Just functioning in life is hard. I see you all wondering if you could even handle an eight-hour workday; I ask myself the same thing. When I finally get to campus, I wonder if I'll have the stamina to stay through a lecture, show up, and actually look okay doing it.
It's embarrassing to deal with mental health struggles. Richard White8 described it perfectly; you don't want even your closest family to know. You feel ashamed, like it makes you weak or lesser than everyone else... though it shouldn't be that way.
Vitamins help, but they make me nauseous. Most pills do, and my stomach is just a mess. I don't smoke or drink, though I do love coffee—even if it gives me heartburn. In the evenings, while the rest of the world is asleep, I love to just lie down and stare at the stars, imagining I'm on some distant planet far away from all these problems.

I earned my Master’s degree and fully intended to pursue a PhD. I was established in a high-level career, performing at a high standard. Then this illness hit, and it set me back completely. Now, after everything I've been through, finding decent work feels like an impossible task.
Look, Rebecca Rivera3, if you’re dead set against medication, you might want to try Omega-3 and curcumin just to keep things from spiraling. It might offer some relief. Personally, though, if I were in your shoes, I’d give the actual medicine a chance. They have newer antipsychotics available now that don't leave you feeling like a zombie.
Things aren't like they were thirty years ago. Back then, you just took an injection of Haldol or Moditen and you were done with it. Now, we have options like Azolar, Seroquel, Riset, and Zeldox—newer medications that generally come with fewer side effects. And don't go chasing high doses. My psychiatrist told me straight up: lower doses are better. In fact, I was actually the one pushing her to increase my dosage, which was a mistake. It’s good that you have a goal, though. Working toward that PhD will help keep you focused.

Rebecca Rivera3 said:Maybe I'm wrong, but I've noticed one thing: highly spiritual and intelligent people seem to lean toward these kinds of illnesses more often...
And it’s honestly sad. That's why I find myself clinging to the idea of getting my PhD if I can manage it. It feels like it might offer some solace. Between my concentration issues, compulsions, social phobia—not to mention everything else that's even worse—getting through college is a struggle. Just functioning in life is hard. I see you all wondering if you could even handle an eight-hour workday; I ask myself the same thing. When I finally get to campus, I wonder if I'll have the stamina to stay through a lecture, show up, and actually look okay doing it.
It's embarrassing to deal with mental health struggles. Richard White8 described it perfectly; you don't want even your closest family to know. You feel ashamed, like it makes you weak or lesser than everyone else... though it shouldn't be that way.
Vitamins help, but they make me nauseous. Most pills do, and my stomach is just a mess. I don't smoke or drink, though I do love coffee—even if it gives me heartburn. In the evenings, while the rest of the world is asleep, I love to just lie down and stare at the stars, imagining I'm on some distant planet far away from all these problems.

Njusica, you should come for a walk with me. Let's hit up Central Park. What do you say? Come on. Let me know.

Richard White8 said:Are you perhaps practicing according to a specific psychotherapeutic school of thought? In American hospitals, most psychiatrists specialize in biological psychiatry—they claim everything stems from increased stress and overloaded coping mechanisms, rarely leaning on genetic theories. The human psyche remains terra incognita; it is largely unexplored, and individual cases frequently defy statistics and textbooks. They lack the actual instruments to measure the cause and effect of these disorders. My own psychiatrist admitted this because she is an honest woman. There are plenty of doctors who pretend to be all-knowing, yet everyone just ends up on antipsychotics and Zyprexa, depending on how the medication hits them.

I don't work in the field, nor am I deeply invested in psychiatry, but I do think it would be incredibly valuable to uncover the triggers for that smaller group of people who deal with schizophrenia but don't have a clear genetic predisposition.

Raymond Walker5 said:I don't work in the field, nor am I deeply invested in psychiatry, but I do think it would be incredibly valuable to uncover the triggers for that smaller group of people who deal with schizophrenia but don't have a clear genetic predisposition.

And who is going to find it? It remains a mystery. Funding for psychiatric research is negligible. All the capital flows directly into cancer research, and even then, we haven't seen significant breakthroughs beyond standard chemotherapy and radiation.