Noah Sanchez7 said:We all lose our way or feel disconnected sometimes, but usually, we pull ourselves together and move on after a while. Like, "I'm Douglas Long2, this is who I am, I like this and I hate that." Identity! But it feels like I lost mine a long time ago, and I just can't seem to "pull myself back together." I can never truly say, "This is ME." On top of that, I deal with these slight, involuntary movements—they might not be obvious to others, but I notice them and they drive me crazy. It’s like that scene in the movie "pi" where the guy is in a coffee shop, someone approaches him to chat, and his hand starts trembling slightly while he tries to act normal. My body irritates me too; I hate having to carry it around with me (which sounds insane, 😲), but that's the reality. Plus, I'm overly empathetic. I feel everything everyone else feels, and the worst part is I can't shake it. I can't tell myself, "Okay, you're feeling this, just let it go and act this way instead." I'm already completely at the mercy of it.
Wait, hold on—what actually happened during those sessions with the doctors and psychologists? Did they end up recommending any specific course of therapy for you?
Look, I have been thinking about this—and I’m trying to be as objective as possible here—but it seems to me that you and they might both be right in a way. It is entirely possible that what we are discussing are indeed psychotic symptoms; however, one would have to consider how that would actually manifest in a person's daily life.
I have recently been diagnosed with schizophrenia F20—a realization that has, quite frankly, felt like the ground shifting beneath my feet. It is a heavy thing to process, especially when you are trying to maintain a sense of normalcy while navigating such a profound clinical label. I find myself sitting with this news, weighing the implications of what it means for my future and my identity. It’s a lot to take in—more than one can easily articulate in a single moment—but I am attempting to face it with as much composure as possible. There are several specific requirements that need to be met—and frankly, I don't see all of them being addressed in your current approach—though I suspect they were likely taken into consideration during your previous meeting with them.
Secondly, establishing an accurate diagnosis is vital—it provides the necessary roadmap for how one approaches treatment and long-term management. However, I would argue that the emphasis should remain firmly on the treatment itself rather than getting bogged down in the diagnostic label. In my experience, the diagnoses provided aren't always "clean"—for instance, you might see a straightforward "schizophrenia F20." That works, certainly. But much more frequently, clinicians provide descriptive diagnoses—sort of a patchwork of symptoms where they list various traits to capture the full picture. While some might call this messy, I believe it is actually preferable; by reducing everything to a single, simple term, you risk losing a wealth of critical information. Even when a clinician assigns a specific code as a working diagnosis, it shouldn't be viewed as static—it is a fluid thing that evolves over time.
If this happens to be of any interest to you—and I truly mean that—I wanted to pass along this link.
If you are looking for clinical clarity—specifically regarding the diagnostic criteria used by medical professionals here in the States—I highly recommend bookmarking this resource from the World Health Organization. It provides the full ICD-10 framework, which is essentially the gold standard our doctors and psychiatrists rely on to categorize various conditions. For anyone navigating the complexities of mental health diagnoses, having access to the official classifications can be incredibly grounding. It helps demystify the terminology we often encounter in clinical settings or during discussions with specialists. I personally find that consulting the primary source material—rather than relying solely on second-hand interpretations—adds a necessary layer of precision to one's understanding of these medical frameworks.
Well—you really ought to just click on the F.
I honestly can't say for certain off the top of my head—it’s a bit hard to recall everything while I'm preoccupied—whether the DSM classification is currently available or where exactly one might find it. However, if this particular version happens to be useful to you, please feel free to use it; I thought it might give you a better sense of just how much information is actually contained within these documents.
All things considered, I believe your best course of action is to return to the specialists—whether that means revisiting the doctors you’ve already seen or seeking out a new team entirely—and simply ask them for help. It sounds basic, perhaps even overly simplistic, but it is necessary. Having a diagnosis doesn't actually grant you any leverage or provide a solution in and of itself; knowing the label is just the starting point. What truly matters—what is actually decisive—is what you choose to do with that information and how you begin the work toward recovery. 🙂 It truly is an uphill battle—I won't sugarcoat it. Whether you are navigating the complexities of therapy, wrestling with addiction, or simply trying to find your footing again, it is incredibly taxing. I remember a period in my own life where everything felt like a constant struggle against my own mind—it’s exhausting work. But, if you can push through that initial resistance and stay the course, there is a genuine certainty that things will begin to feel lighter. It takes time, certainly, but the improvement is real.
