Schizophrenia - General Discussion

darksurfer4 said:Hey Diego, how are you doing? As for whether others will accept you—who exactly are these "others"? People who don't deal with schizophrenia? You can find all sorts of those people out there in the world...

If you're really that worried about being accepted, honestly, you might be better off starting your own cult and declaring yourself a deity; then nobody would dare question you because everything would just be "the will of God."

Hi there. Just so you know, things tend to change by the hour here.🙂

I don't really put much stock in gods. If I thought otherwise, I'd probably be heading to a priest for therapy instead of a psychiatrist.

Harold Anderson3 said:I can certainly try to be persistent, but I’m starting to feel like this specific approach to treatment isn't really working for me. It feels like a double-edged sword; as much as the meds help on one hand, they seem to be doing just as much damage on the other. Without them, I might struggle with my mental stability, but with them, I feel like a shell of a person—emotionally numb, isolated, and like I'm just spinning my wheels in life. Does anyone else honestly think this is a fair way to live?

I don't think it's okay either, but it feels like there's no other choice. I mean, technically you could try to go completely cold turkey, but we both know how messy that gets.

As for the whole "success" thing, I think you're looking at it through the wrong lens. Honestly, just being here and staying alive is a massive win, regardless of anything else.

And let's be real—psychosis isn't something you just "walk off." It can be fatal.

Laura Castillo6 said:I don't think it's okay either, but it feels like there's no other choice. I mean, technically you could try to go completely cold turkey, but we both know how messy that gets.

As for the whole "success" thing, I think you're looking at it through the wrong lens. Honestly, just being here and staying alive is a massive win, regardless of anything else.

And let's be real—psychosis isn't something you just "walk off." It can be fatal.

Why shouldn't we hope for something better? A life where we aren't trapped in a state of psychosis, yet aren't feeling like total zombies either?

Laura Castillo6 said:I don't think it's okay either, but it feels like there's no other choice. I mean, technically you could try to go completely cold turkey, but we both know how messy that gets.

As for the whole "success" thing, I think you're looking at it through the wrong lens. Honestly, just being here and staying alive is a massive win, regardless of anything else.

And let's be real—psychosis isn't something you just "walk off." It can be fatal.

A state of psychosis is so much more terrifying than just dealing with the side effects of medication.
Of course, we shouldn't ignore those heavy bouts of depression that sometimes crop up while you're on meds, but they aren't always caused by the drugs themselves.
Those episodes—if you've ever experienced them—can be incredibly uncomfortable, even if they are temporary. They almost feel paralyzing, leaving you stuck for hours or even days at a time. It’s just pure negativity, constant thoughts about death or how hard life is... it feels like it will last forever, but I promise, they always pass.

darksurfer4 said:Why shouldn't we hope for something better? A life where we aren't trapped in a state of psychosis, yet aren't feeling like total zombies either?

Well, regardless of what happens to any single person on this planet, hope dies right along with the people who hold it.

Harold Anderson3 said:A state of psychosis is so much more terrifying than just dealing with the side effects of medication.
Of course, we shouldn't ignore those heavy bouts of depression that sometimes crop up while you're on meds, but they aren't always caused by the drugs themselves.
Those episodes—if you've ever experienced them—can be incredibly uncomfortable, even if they are temporary. They almost feel paralyzing, leaving you stuck for hours or even days at a time. It’s just pure negativity, constant thoughts about death or how hard life is... it feels like it will last forever, but I promise, they always pass.

I hate psychosis because there's zero control—you can't control yourself, the illness, or that entire chaotic mental festival going on upstairs. But when I was in the middle of it, I would have described it similarly to how that user fellow did; he really captured part of the experience.

It’s everything from incredible sensations to wild visions and ideas... honestly, it's stuff that probably 95% of people will never experience in their entire lives.
BUT... the fact that you lose all control is a massive downside. It isn't a healthy brain state, and there are plenty of negative feelings, terrors, and dark hallucinations involved. There's a bit of everything in there.
After a psychotic break comes the injections. To get things under control, they hit you with heavy sedatives, and once things settle down a bit, they move you onto daily medications.

And that’s exactly how these drugs work—by blocking receptors. They trigger depression because, logically speaking, if psychosis were the direct cause of the depression, you'd just be constantly depressed.

Why does this happen? Because neuroscience and psychiatry are still relatively young fields. This science is essentially flying blind; they don't truly grasp what's happening inside the brain. They've barely scratched the surface. The main weapon they have is these medications, which, incidentally, were originally discovered for something else entirely, and then someone experimented with them for psychiatric disorders. It's interesting that while most of them suppress the positive symptoms of psychosis, they often create those negative ones in the form of depression.

Man, as long as life goes on, hope stays alive. When one of those two disappears, everything else goes with it.

Laura Castillo6 said:Well, regardless of what happens to any single person on this planet, hope dies right along with the people who hold it.

I hate psychosis because there's zero control—you can't control yourself, the illness, or that entire chaotic mental festival going on upstairs. But when I was in the middle of it, I would have described it similarly to how that user fellow did; he really captured part of the experience.

It’s everything from incredible sensations to wild visions and ideas... honestly, it's stuff that probably 95% of people will never experience in their entire lives.
BUT... the fact that you lose all control is a massive downside. It isn't a healthy brain state, and there are plenty of negative feelings, terrors, and dark hallucinations involved. There's a bit of everything in there.
After a psychotic break comes the injections. To get things under control, they hit you with heavy sedatives, and once things settle down a bit, they move you onto daily medications.

And that’s exactly how these drugs work—by blocking receptors. They trigger depression because, logically speaking, if psychosis were the direct cause of the depression, you'd just be constantly depressed.

Why does this happen? Because neuroscience and psychiatry are still relatively young fields. This science is essentially flying blind; they don't truly grasp what's happening inside the brain. They've barely scratched the surface. The main weapon they have is these medications, which, incidentally, were originally discovered for something else entirely, and then someone experimented with them for psychiatric disorders. It's interesting that while most of them suppress the positive symptoms of psychosis, they often create those negative ones in the form of depression.

Man, as long as life goes on, hope stays alive. When one of those two disappears, everything else goes with it.

You nailed it, especially regarding the psychosis and the "medication" part. For me, even though staying in that psychotic state felt almost euphoric at times, the terror would creep in. I didn't have hallucinations, at least not during those first seven days when I was attempting to jump off my balcony, but the fear? That was real. By the seventh day, I was terrified to even step out my front door. If it weren't for those fears, I might have actually embraced the psychosis and all those wild ideas you mentioned, because my brain was firing like a firework display. Those scares are what ruin it. Maybe if I had people by my side, I could have pushed through. Who knows.

Jose Ward4 said:You nailed it, especially regarding the psychosis and the "medication" part. For me, even though staying in that psychotic state felt almost euphoric at times, the terror would creep in. I didn't have hallucinations, at least not during those first seven days when I was attempting to jump off my balcony, but the fear? That was real. By the seventh day, I was terrified to even step out my front door. If it weren't for those fears, I might have actually embraced the psychosis and all those wild ideas you mentioned, because my brain was firing like a firework display. Those scares are what ruin it. Maybe if I had people by my side, I could have pushed through. Who knows.

Were you taking any anxiolytics, like Xanax, alongside your AP? Getting off those things is a total nightmare. 😲

Joseph Bailey41 said:Were you taking any anxiolytics, like Xanax, alongside your AP? Getting off those things is a total nightmare. 😲

Man, I went through the ringer getting off Xanax—both the regular stuff and the extended release. It all started when I reached the point where I was actually terrified to leave my house. But honestly? The transition from Moditen to Rispolept was even more of a total disaster. It wasn't even that the Rispolept felt bad once I started it; it was just the sheer hell of stopping the Moditen, though thankfully that eventually leveled out after a while. Right now, I’m just sticking to Risset, and if things ever get really overwhelming, I just have some Xanax on hand that a buddy gave me since he had some extra.

Joseph Bailey41 said:Were you taking any anxiolytics, like Xanax, alongside your AP? Getting off those things is a total nightmare. 😲

I'm not sure. Honestly, I can't even tell if Zyprexa is meant to be an antipsychotic or an anxiolytic. I’ve been taking Zyprexa similar to how one takes Vaira. It's been a total nightmare. On the bright side, I felt great—it was like everything just cleared out of my system all at once. Back then, I was sipping on lavender and ginger teas to help settle my stomach. I realized that while I was on the medication, I could eat pretty much anything without a second thought; my stomach was bulletproof. But the moment I stepped off them? Everything changed. I ate some bread—nothing crazy, just a decent amount—and I ended up with terrible gastritis and spent ages throwing up. It was brutal. Then, on the seventh day, I took my dose and suddenly the anxiety vanished and the stomach pains just evaporated. It was like nothing had ever happened.

Jose Ward4 said:I'm not sure. Honestly, I can't even tell if Zyprexa is meant to be an antipsychotic or an anxiolytic. I’ve been taking Zyprexa similar to how one takes Vaira. It's been a total nightmare. On the bright side, I felt great—it was like everything just cleared out of my system all at once. Back then, I was sipping on lavender and ginger teas to help settle my stomach. I realized that while I was on the medication, I could eat pretty much anything without a second thought; my stomach was bulletproof. But the moment I stepped off them? Everything changed. I ate some bread—nothing crazy, just a decent amount—and I ended up with terrible gastritis and spent ages throwing up. It was brutal. Then, on the seventh day, I took my dose and suddenly the anxiety vanished and the stomach pains just evaporated. It was like nothing had ever happened.

There’s nothing unusual about that; the stomach is incredibly sensitive to nerves, stress, and all that stuff. And honestly, it might not be a bad idea to work through those anxieties in actual therapy. Have you ever done any counseling sessions, aside from those quick 20-minute check-ins?

Jose Ward4 said:You nailed it, especially regarding the psychosis and the "medication" part. For me, even though staying in that psychotic state felt almost euphoric at times, the terror would creep in. I didn't have hallucinations, at least not during those first seven days when I was attempting to jump off my balcony, but the fear? That was real. By the seventh day, I was terrified to even step out my front door. If it weren't for those fears, I might have actually embraced the psychosis and all those wild ideas you mentioned, because my brain was firing like a firework display. Those scares are what ruin it. Maybe if I had people by my side, I could have pushed through. Who knows.

For me, it was pure anxiety—just constant fear—right after the psychosis hit.

I still remember those early days, bouncing between my psychologist and then seeing a psychiatrist. Since everything was so new to me, I couldn't quite wrap my head around the term anxiety. I kept telling them how terrified I was of slipping back into psychosis (which, in my opinion, is what most people who have lived through it feel—that underlying dread), so they just kept noting down on my charts that I was "anxious."

Looking back, I felt like they didn't truly get me because they had no idea what actual psychosis feels like. But the reality is, my anxiety was essentially a direct reaction to the psychosis itself 😲
. I understand that now, but back then, it was a total blur.

By my fifth visit to the psychiatrist, she had already decided to put me on something for the anxiety. It felt like nobody actually wanted to hear about the deep-seated terror; they just wanted to label it. The harsh truth is that at the end of the day, regardless of what diagnosis you carry, life doesn't stop. For us regular folks, that means you still have to earn a living and handle your daily responsibilities. 🙏

Eventually, I stopped going to the psychiatrist—mostly because I wanted to avoid being handed a prescription—and started setting small goals for myself. I just followed my gut and gave myself tasks to complete. I hadn't read anything about anxiety at the time, but looking back, I realize how incredibly difficult it is for people dealing with it. After a while, things started to improve. The fear gradually began to fade, and now I can function pretty well on a day-to-day basis.

Even outside of mental health struggles, I think fear is just the most dominant emotion we have. Something I've noticed through my own experience is that fear is almost always much more intense than the actual danger present in reality.

Joseph Bailey41 said:There’s nothing unusual about that; the stomach is incredibly sensitive to nerves, stress, and all that stuff. And honestly, it might not be a bad idea to work through those anxieties in actual therapy. Have you ever done any counseling sessions, aside from those quick 20-minute check-ins?

I went once. To be honest, psychiatry feels strange to me in general, but I did see a psychologist for an hour about three months ago. And I came out feeling even more wrecked than when I walked in. It didn't help at all. We were talking, and all I could think was, "What a joke." So, right now, I really don't feel like looking for someone new...

Laura Castillo6 said:For me, it was pure anxiety—just constant fear—right after the psychosis hit.

I still remember those early days, bouncing between my psychologist and then seeing a psychiatrist. Since everything was so new to me, I couldn't quite wrap my head around the term anxiety. I kept telling them how terrified I was of slipping back into psychosis (which, in my opinion, is what most people who have lived through it feel—that underlying dread), so they just kept noting down on my charts that I was "anxious."

Looking back, I felt like they didn't truly get me because they had no idea what actual psychosis feels like. But the reality is, my anxiety was essentially a direct reaction to the psychosis itself 😲
. I understand that now, but back then, it was a total blur.

By my fifth visit to the psychiatrist, she had already decided to put me on something for the anxiety. It felt like nobody actually wanted to hear about the deep-seated terror; they just wanted to label it. The harsh truth is that at the end of the day, regardless of what diagnosis you carry, life doesn't stop. For us regular folks, that means you still have to earn a living and handle your daily responsibilities. 🙏

Eventually, I stopped going to the psychiatrist—mostly because I wanted to avoid being handed a prescription—and started setting small goals for myself. I just followed my gut and gave myself tasks to complete. I hadn't read anything about anxiety at the time, but looking back, I realize how incredibly difficult it is for people dealing with it. After a while, things started to improve. The fear gradually began to fade, and now I can function pretty well on a day-to-day basis.

Even outside of mental health struggles, I think fear is just the most dominant emotion we have. Something I've noticed through my own experience is that fear is almost always much more intense than the actual danger present in reality.

That's true. So, are you completely off the pills now?

Jose Ward4 said:I went once. To be honest, psychiatry feels strange to me in general, but I did see a psychologist for an hour about three months ago. And I came out feeling even more wrecked than when I walked in. It didn't help at all. We were talking, and all I could think was, "What a joke." So, right now, I really don't feel like looking for someone new...

That's true. So, are you completely off the pills now?

Well, it’s just because they don't know, honestly. Simple as that.

That’s true. So, are you actually done with all those pills now? Not taking any more at all?

I usually take about 1.5mg of Ativan to help me drift off at night. It's just my little routine to help settle everything down so I can actually get some rest.

Laura Castillo6 said:Well, it’s just because they don't know, honestly. Simple as that.

That’s true. So, are you actually done with all those pills now? Not taking any more at all?

I usually take about 1.5mg of Ativan to help me drift off at night. It's just my little routine to help settle everything down so I can actually get some rest.

Do you have a formal diagnosis? Has a doctor actually sat down and diagnosed you with it?

Jose Ward4 said:Do you have a formal diagnosis? Has a doctor actually sat down and diagnosed you with it?

To be honest, for me, there isn't much of a difference between f23 and f20.

Harold Anderson3 said:Hi there. Just so you know, things tend to change by the hour here.🙂

I don't really put much stock in gods. If I thought otherwise, I'd probably be heading to a priest for therapy instead of a psychiatrist.

The two aren't mutually exclusive at all. A priest handles your spiritual struggles, while a psychiatrist or therapist deals with the mental ones.

Laura Castillo6 said:To be honest, for me, there isn't much of a difference between f23 and f20.

Aha. I did a little surfing online. Found this: "Acute polymorphic psychotic disorder without schizophrenic symptoms." It’s not easy for you either.

I'm actually feeling pretty good right now, despite this intense heatwave. I mean, what would I even attempt? Trying to live without medication? If I had some kind of actual support—someone to guide me through it—I might try. I feel certain about it, but I am absolutely convinced that I need to overhaul my diet first. If only someone actually knew how to do that... then maybe we could talk about tapering off the pills. I've been watching stuff on YouTube about people who managed to resolve their issues just by changing what they eat. But you have to know *how* to do it. There are actually a few doctors in the USA who have successfully treated patients just through dietary changes and specific exercises. Maybe some Yoga or something along those lines. Now, why we see and hear things, I don't know. Is it a genuine chemical imbalance in the brain, or are we just operating on a different frequency when we're in psychosis? Who knows. I suspect they might be hiding things from us. For instance, when I'm in psychosis, my brain functions identically to a "healthy" patient's brain. A CT scan can't prove I have schizophrenia. And I'm not entirely sure, though I've heard it from others, that you can't even detect a dopamine or serotonin imbalance during psychosis. Again, unprovable. So, the only thing left is for a doctor to evaluate you, hand you a diagnosis, and write a prescription. It’s a strange way to operate...

Just wanted to add:
When I was last hospitalized—that was last year, Sparrow—I didn't have a single blood test or a CT scan the entire month I was there. The guy sharing my room was also a first-timer, and he didn't go for blood work or a CT scan either. He actually mentioned it to me; we got along quite well. Good guy. When you look at these diagnoses, they aren't even scientifically proven in the way you'd think. Usually, you'd expect a CT scan or blood work (checking dopamine, serotonin, etc.) to prove a disease exists. That’s how everything else in medicine works, but apparently not here. It seems the only thing that matters is having a person—a psychiatrist—diagnose you and give you the meds...

Matthew Castillo5 said:The two aren't mutually exclusive at all. A priest handles your spiritual struggles, while a psychiatrist or therapist deals with the mental ones.

But what kind of stuff actually falls under "spiritual problems"? Like, what does that even look like in practice?

Matthew Castillo5 said:The two aren't mutually exclusive at all. A priest handles your spiritual struggles, while a psychiatrist or therapist deals with the mental ones.

Oh sure, just look at Tomislav Ivančić and his "hagiotherapy." It cured my depression, alright—only to hand me schizophrenia in exchange. Now I'm right back where I started, dealing with depression as my most brutal symptom even while in remission.

Jose Ward4 said:Aha. I did a little surfing online. Found this: "Acute polymorphic psychotic disorder without schizophrenic symptoms." It’s not easy for you either.

I'm actually feeling pretty good right now, despite this intense heatwave. I mean, what would I even attempt? Trying to live without medication? If I had some kind of actual support—someone to guide me through it—I might try. I feel certain about it, but I am absolutely convinced that I need to overhaul my diet first. If only someone actually knew how to do that... then maybe we could talk about tapering off the pills. I've been watching stuff on YouTube about people who managed to resolve their issues just by changing what they eat. But you have to know *how* to do it. There are actually a few doctors in the USA who have successfully treated patients just through dietary changes and specific exercises. Maybe some Yoga or something along those lines. Now, why we see and hear things, I don't know. Is it a genuine chemical imbalance in the brain, or are we just operating on a different frequency when we're in psychosis? Who knows. I suspect they might be hiding things from us. For instance, when I'm in psychosis, my brain functions identically to a "healthy" patient's brain. A CT scan can't prove I have schizophrenia. And I'm not entirely sure, though I've heard it from others, that you can't even detect a dopamine or serotonin imbalance during psychosis. Again, unprovable. So, the only thing left is for a doctor to evaluate you, hand you a diagnosis, and write a prescription. It’s a strange way to operate...

Just wanted to add:
When I was last hospitalized—that was last year, Sparrow—I didn't have a single blood test or a CT scan the entire month I was there. The guy sharing my room was also a first-timer, and he didn't go for blood work or a CT scan either. He actually mentioned it to me; we got along quite well. Good guy. When you look at these diagnoses, they aren't even scientifically proven in the way you'd think. Usually, you'd expect a CT scan or blood work (checking dopamine, serotonin, etc.) to prove a disease exists. That’s how everything else in medicine works, but apparently not here. It seems the only thing that matters is having a person—a psychiatrist—diagnose you and give you the meds...

You really can't just deny that psychosis is a real medical condition. Once someone starts coming back to reality after an episode, they usually have a pretty clear idea of what went down. Plus, even the psychiatrists—the ones who actually know their stuff—can tell when something is fundamentally off based on how a person communicates, their body language, and all those little nuances in conversation. We might not have a machine that can point to a screen and say, "There it is," but you don't need one. A proper psychological evaluation through actual, deep conversation is more than enough to prove it's happening.

Just wanted to add:
When I was last in the hospital—I think it was about a year ago at a facility over in Seattle—I didn’t have a single blood test or a CT scan done, even though I was there for an entire month. There was this other guy staying in my room, someone who had never been hospitalized before, and he hadn't gone through any scans or blood work either. He actually brought it up during one of our chats; we ended up getting along pretty well. It really makes you think, though. When you look at how things work, most diagnoses aren't exactly backed by hard physical evidence. Usually, if you're dealing with medical issues, you go in for a CT scan or blood tests to check your dopamine or serotonin levels just to prove what's actually going on. That’s how almost everything in medicine works. But in this field? Apparently not. It feels like the only thing left is for a psychiatrist to sit you down, give you a diagnosis, and hand you some pills.

You don't actually need some high-tech medical device to diagnose a mental health condition. Take anxiety, for example—you don't exactly need to run blood tests or check chemical levels in the body just to prove someone is struggling with an anxiety disorder. It’s something you can observe and understand through conversation and experience, rather than just looking at data on a screen.
Look, we all know that brain chemicals like dopamine and all that stuff are absolutely vital for how our neurons actually talk to each other. It’s the engine under the hood, right? But at the end of the day, when you're looking at actual symptoms of an illness, there isn't really a magic number you can just point to. You can't exactly run a test to say, "Aha! This person is exactly 4.2 milligrams short on dopamine," and call it a formal diagnosis. It’s more about the way those symptoms manifest in a person's life rather than trying to nail down a precise chemical measurement.
Honestly, I don't think you should ever look at a diagnosis as some kind of final sentence. It’s more like a roadmap—a starting point that leads you toward the right therapy and eventually to a place of stability. As for tapering off medication, it’s definitely possible, but you really shouldn't try to go it alone. You need to work closely with a professional to do it safely. I actually know quite a few people who managed to successfully step away from their meds even after taking them for decades. It’s all about patience and seeing how things settle over time, provided there isn't a relapse. Just take it one step at a time.