Richard White8 said: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
Do these heavy-duty meds just completely drain you? Because they definitely do. You really have to load up on vitamins—like, tons of them. Fruit too, though I can't say I’m much of a fruit eater myself. Personally, I’m constantly slamming supplements—omega-3s, magnesium, curcumin, you name it. I feel like I have way less energy than I did before I started this whole medication thing. And then there's the sleep situation... sometimes you're just out cold for hours, and other times, you can't catch a wink of sleep to save your life. They definitely have their downsides. But, look, they have good sides too. In my own experience, there were actually some genuine benefits to taking them.
I don't really touch fruit that much, and vitamins aren't exactly my thing—not that I take them, anyway. I try to squeeze in more veggies, but usually, they're just cooked into whatever meal I'm having, and maybe an occasional banana if I'm feeling ambitious. Bananas might be the one thing keeping me upright. I drink plenty of milk, though I keep hearing people say it’s not the healthiest habit to have; still, I end up having it with cereal or cookies for dinner most nights. And look, this isn't because of the meds—it’s always been like this. I can't tell if I'm dealing with chronic fatigue or something else entirely, or if I’m just built like Hegel—just wired that way. I’ll sleep for like 8 to 12 hours a day, usually hitting that 10-12 hour sweet spot, and then I’ll spend the entire night buzzing around until the sun comes up. It's exhausting, honestly. The current meds don't seem to bother me, but that Risperidone? Yeah, that was a nightmare. I almost lost it and did something stupid because of it—I tried to speak up, but I guess there was no Metoten available, probably because everyone was too busy dealing with those massive corporate bidding wars at places like Boeing.
Psychiatrists act like they have all the answers, but honestly? If any of them had actually lived through a psychotic break or dealt with the reality of being on these meds, they’d probably think differently. It’s easy to talk theory from a clinical desk, but it's a different story when you're the one actually dealing with it. And let's be real—with these kinds of diagnoses, just functioning on a daily basis is a massive struggle, let alone trying to hold down a job. You'd think the government would step up with some kind of support or disability benefits, right? But instead, you're just left hanging. I don't even dare to apply for disability myself—I mean, what would happen if they actually declared me unfit for work? What am I supposed to do then? Just sit there? It's a catch-22.
They honestly don't have a clue what I'm going through. Every single appointment—it’s always the same—they cut the conversation down to less than a minute. And get this—my psychiatrist actually had the nerve to start complaining to me about his own heart issues and whatnot. Look, I’m not saying he doesn't have problems, but damn, I’ve got my own laundry list of health issues to deal with too. I ended up stuck in the hospital once and was supposed to undergo some extreme testing, but I just hit a wall. I spiraled so hard that I went from being in internal medicine straight to the psych ward. It happened a second time, too, though not in a hospital setting. Honestly? They couldn't care less about us. If they don't care about healthy people, why would they care about people like me? It feels like they're just waiting for us—the old, the sick, the broken—to finally kick the bucket so they can be rid of us. They’re practically counting down the days.
Look, I’ve never been one to get worked up over things—never have. We usually say we just take life as it comes, you know? But honestly, I’ve been out of the workforce for fifteen years straight since I finished school. Never had a real job. And let's be real: what are the odds someone is going to hire a 32-year-old with my track record? I'm dealing with health issues, a messy medical diagnosis, and not enough schooling—I don't even have the specific degree they're looking for. Why would anyone pick me over some young kid who's healthy and actually holds the right credentials? It’s not like it's happening. Even the social safety nets here... they aren't exactly handing out checks to people like me. 25 miles At least if I save up, I might actually have enough to pay for some gear for my projects or maybe some retraining—you know, to chase a decent job or whatever. Not even counting disability benefits. But honestly? It feels like we’re being pushed toward another war sooner rather than later. Things are heating up over in Canada again, and it’s all starting to feel cyclical. Either everyone just vanishes from Canada entirely, leaving nothing behind but the elderly, the sick, and those Oligarchs who call themselves "protectors of the people." Look, I don't *want* a war. But... maybe there's a tiny part of me that actually wants it. Just so I could go out, die, and finally be done with this whole mess. Maybe it isn't even a desire, really—more like I’d just accept it gladly. To finally get rid of this life where everything is just constant struggle. And then there's the social security stuff. By law, I'm entitled to it, but they won't give it to me. They won't even give me what's legally mine. I sat down and did the math for fifteen years, and it comes out to about... 6.2 miles I guess. Legally, I should be covered since nobody in my family actually has an official job—we just have one tiny social security check coming in as our only "official" income.
Over in England, they actually get social assistance if you're over 330 lbs or dealing with chronic illnesses—the state actually steps up. But here in the States? You have to hide the fact that you’ve ever been sick. You show up for a job interview and mention you’ve dealt with psychosis or schizophrenia... your chances of getting hired are basically zero. It’s best to stick to those government agencies. Luckily, a friend of mine works at a university, so no one can breathe down his neck about his health or fire him for it. But if you work for a private company and end up in the psych ward three times a year? You'd be gone in a heartbeat.
Well, they aren't like people in England or anywhere else—not like these local Oligarchs. They know exactly what they're doing by keeping everyone else broke while they hoard everything. It’s a recipe for a systemic collapse, one way or another. And I can't even admit I'm ill because the CDC code is right there in my records—they noted the agency ID in my file, so if anyone looks at my paperwork, they see that CDC mark immediately. They won't hire healthy, young people, let alone us. Working for private employers here is practically serfdom. People are pulling 10 or 12-hour shifts for peanuts, and half the time they don't even pay you—they just keep you stuck in "probation" forever. It's a total scam, so it's no wonder everyone is trying to get out.
Like we actually chose this. Who in their right mind would choose mental illness? If you're fighting cancer, everyone's full of sympathy, but if you're treating schizophrenia, you're just a "lunatic" that everyone avoids. That's why it's better not to tell anyone what's actually going on. Maybe just your closest friends. Honestly, maybe not even family.
I'm looking for work, but I honestly don't know if I'm capable of grinding through 8 hours every single day. What kind of divine punishment is this? I guess we'll all go to paradise like saints. Or maybe in the next reincarnation, we'll all just be cattle. haha
Look, I didn't choose this, though I definitely didn't pass up any opportunities back in the day—if I had, I wouldn't be in this mess. Back in 2008, I might have been able to leverage some of that chaos and pitch ideas to the powers that be to get something out of them, but I didn't want to cause trouble, especially since so much of that stuff is used as weapons. But I was never really "good" at it. After that lead poisoning incident when I was a kid, they kept me in the hospital for half a month under observation, dealing with convulsions, and my folks eventually had to pull some strings to get me out. Who knows how long I've been sick—maybe it started right then. It's the truth; crazy people aren't accepted, and our opinions don't carry weight. They don't listen. And yeah, I'd work, but I couldn't handle 8, 10, or 12-hour days. Maybe 4 hours, maybe 6 max, but no one wants to hire that—they just want to exploit you. It's a curse. I've felt cursed for a long time, but I've just accepted it—this whole life. What's the point in fighting it.