Tag Archives: delusions

How the Current Environment Mimics Schizophrenia

16 Friday Mar 2018

Posted by in mental illness, schizophrenia, Uncategorized

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I think most Americans, whether they know it or not, are much closer than they realize to understanding the frequently misunderstood thought process of someone with schizophrenia. In fact, some people might be moderately experiencing that “diseased” process. I have spent time for that thought process, colloquially referred to as insanity, on a locked ward. Even though I have had periods of insanity, I also know what sanity is; I can recognize healthy thoughts. But I never thought I would have to white-knuckle my hold on reality because of the prevalence of so many untruths, conspiracy theories, and delusions in the media. Ours is an insane environment of information right now and I know I’m not the only one with a history of mental illness, or not, struggling to stay afloat mentally.

Not long ago, on major networks, we were watching coverage of the shooting in Las Vegas, with interviews of victims, first responders, and other eyewitnesses, stories of injuries, of everyday heroes, of the tragic loss of life. At the same time as these stories were told, social media was alive with conspiracy theories like that the shooter didn’t act alone; it was an inside job, there was no shooting in Las Vegas. Much like the denials that continue to be printed and told and circulate about the Sandy Hook Shooting. And last year, false stories and conspiracy theories brought us Pizzagate – a fake news story about a child sex ring operating out of a D.C. pizza joint.

I have schizophrenia and once believed that Americans traveling to China, in particular people on business, were being forced to work in sweatshops and were the victims of torture having body parts removed and sewn back on – a finger where a toe once was – an arm for a leg. Certain that this was happening, I believed several of my friends and family were dead.

When I had delusions about China, I was sick. I was in need of medical intervention. Of course, someone like me, who is prone to delusions, doesn’t just hold one at a time. I also held the beliefs that the world would end any day, that the government was wiretapping my conversations and spying on me and many other things that might sound familiar in this new, what should I call it? Reality? Environment? Political climate? I search for the words to describe it and to define it. One thing is for certain: reality has changed drastically and is almost unrecognizable from this time two years ago.

When I listened to President Obama, speak it never occurred to me that he was lying. It is possible that I was naïve, but it was a different day and age (even though not so long ago). I don’t know why but for the most part, I trusted him and (just in case you think I only trust Democrats, I trusted George W. Bush). I assume these former presidents may have misled the American people occasionally, but I am reading reports weekly that the current president lies on average of five times a day.

During a regular news cycle and the accompanying dose of social media, each day has more in common now with my symptoms of schizophrenia than ever before. There are the President’s denial of facts, fake news sites, correspondents presenting a skewed view of reality. I have a concern for the mental health of Americans because of my experience of delusions has always been frightening, and conspiracy theories, and “alternative facts” break down our sense of trust not just in governmental agencies and officials but other people and institutions. The current environment has led me to question everything.  And this practice of questioning, checking sources and doubting is exhausting and confusing for everyone, but for me, it is necessary to keep me on solid ground mentally.

In October of 2017, the Miami Herald reported that Bettina Rodriguez Aguilera, a woman running for Congress in Florida, believes she was taken on a spaceship by aliens. If I told the story that Aguilera is telling, my doctors would change my medication, and it is possible I would end up in a psych ward.

As someone with schizophrenia, I don’t have a choice when it comes to fighting for reality just like the majority of voting Americans didn’t choose this confusing, and almost mind-altering place they find on their televisions, Smartphones, and computers.  To get through this with sanity on their side, Americans may turn to people with schizophrenia for tricks and tools in how to avoid being sucked in by delusions, conspiracy theories, and lies. I never thought I would have advice about reality to give the average American, but I do;  check your sources, don’t take anything at face value, and question everything you hear.  Otherwise, we will all find ourselves in the realm of tin-foil hats, and no one will think it is funny.

 

Think Twice Before You Lie to Someone with Schizophrenia

10 Friday Nov 2017

Posted by in caregivers, mental illness, schizophrenia, Uncategorized

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I just ate a piece of bread with hummus on it from a woman giving out samples in Costco. For some reason, the bread or the hummus tastes differently to me. Fear overcomes me. I begin to think the food may contain poison. I start looking for my husband who I left in the computer aisle. When I find my husband, I ask him to go to the woman and taste the food. He recognizes the fear and urgency in my voice so although he is not hungry and doesn’t like to sample foods, he goes to where she is standing and waits in line for a sample. He tastes it. “It is fine,” he tells me. “It tastes good.” This moment is critical, I will either be comforted by my husband’s words, or I will move into a full-blown panic. This time, it works, and I immediately begin to calm down.

The scenario I just typed is one example and one incident among hundreds that happen in one variation or another in our lives. I fear something. My husband tries to show me or tell me why the fear is irrational. He never tries to help me condescendingly. He does it factually, and straightforwardly.

This example of trust is why I titled this blog post, “Think Twice Before You Lie to Someone with Schizophrenia.” I know that it might seem easier sometimes to lie to someone who is paranoid or psychotic, but in the long run, and in my experience, it will damage how much you can help that person in the future.

I have built twenty years of trust with my husband. He is one of the few, if not the only, people who I believe all of the time. That isn’t to say that his honesty with me comforts me one hundred percent of the time, but it does about seventy-five percent of the time, and that is a lot. If we can prevent seventy-five out of one hundred panic attacks or episodes of extreme paranoia, I think that is pretty good. (The number may be higher, I don’t know. I just know it works more than it doesn’t).

I know that telling a lie to someone to get them to go into treatment if they are actively psychotic may be necessary, (and if it helps someone to get the help they need, I am all for it). But I would weigh those situations before deciding to be untruthful. The consequences of lying can last far into a person’s recovery and treatment.  Without someone who I trust, who knows how many times I would have struggled severely with hallucinations, delusions, paranoia and other symptoms. Having someone to trust can be as good as a potent medication at times when symptoms don’t have a strong grip on someone with schizophrenia.

The Real and Unreal: Struggles With Schizophrenia

08 Thursday Sep 2016

Posted by in mental illness, schizophrenia, Uncategorized, writing

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I have been applying for jobs that I think I would be able to do for the past year. One of the things about me is I always want to contribute. I worked up until five years ago. Since that time I have been trying to take classes and become retrained as a writer so I can build a freelancing career. I even went to culinary school and graduate school but couldn’t (for different reasons) keep up with either one.

On days when I can seriously self-reflect, I know that a freelance career or a work from home opportunity is all I can manage. In the morning, after I take my medications I frequently become so groggy and tired that I need to crawl back into bed and sleep for thirty minutes to an hour. There are days when I call my husband and ask him to come home from work. It is a good thing that he works so hard and has a good relationship with his boss.

One of the things I try to do to build a freelancing career is attend writing conferences and network with editors. I try to build these relationships on social media as well. My husband always goes to the conferences with me, and it is a good thing because we haven’t been to a single one where I didn’t run into problems with my symptoms.

If I made an appointment with you at ten in the morning to meet at Starbucks, you probably wouldn’t realize that I have schizophrenia (that is if I didn’t have to cancel or wasn’t experiencing anxiety).  Many people see me for short periods of time and don’t realize that I have a severe mental illness. I am capable of having a conversation, and I laugh a lot when people possess a sense of humor.

One reason my illness isn’t always easy to detect (with the exception of anxiety and paranoia) is because I have been practicing hiding it for over twenty years. I don’t like people to see my symptoms.

The strange thing I am trying to express by writing all of this is that I have a desire to be well. I think I am capable of more than I am. I have a desire not to have schizophrenia. I think I have an illusion (delusion) of myself at times that convinces me that I don’t have schizophrenia at all even though I am always adamant about taking my medications (a constant reminder that I am ill).

It is hard to describe having clear enough thoughts to write these essays or to write anything, but in the same day be so paranoid that I need my husband to come home from work to help me. Those two worlds, my healthy world, and my symptom-filled world, don’t sit well side by side. The side of me that writes these essays thinks that I can achieve anything, and all I need to do is try hard enough or get the right breaks. The mentally ill part of me requires more medication, help from my husband or others, and keeps me from really being successful at anything (because no matter what I think I can do, I can’t control the daily symptoms).

I guess that is my brand of schizophrenia in a nutshell – a woman full of possibilities and ideas that she can’t reasonably achieve because her symptoms pop up unexpectedly and demand all the attention.

It is hard to admit that you are limited in your potential. It is hard to admit that the very part of your body that occasionally creates original and interesting sentences can turn into your enemy.

I don’t feel sorry for myself, but acceptance is a life-long process and one where I feel my progress is not linear but more like forward and backward and off the path all together like when I apply for a job that there is no way in the world I would be able to handle. Is that hope? Is that delusion? Is that magical thinking? Is that over-confidence, or is that the result of schizophrenia and the reality of my illness playing hide and seek with me?

It’s hard to have a disease of the brain because even in healthy people the brain can play tricks on you, and in mentally ill people you can’t always tell the tricks from reality it’s like watching a magic show by a master magician.

The Media Handles This Tragic Story Well

09 Wednesday Mar 2016

Posted by in mental illness, schizophrenia, Uncategorized

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Wow. Clearly this man (in the article linked below) was psychotic. The way the reporter covers his hallucinations and delusions are spot on for someone suffering from paranoid schizophrenia. The reporter never mentions schizophrenia, though – amazing! This article is the first one I have read where the reporter/writer shied away from giving a diagnosis as soon as a crime happens.

Trigger Warning on this article – it is a very accurate description of psychosis and made me feel a little muddy in the head reading it because of the memories it triggered.

You can read it here.

I have some questions about this man’s situation. How did he get a gun? (The article doesn’t say if he owned one, bought one, or has always been around them – this seems important). Also, he was having severe symptoms for two years (did I read that correctly?). No one noticed anything bizarre?  Why do people keep slipping through the cracks? What is happening?  What can we do to help people before a tragedy occurs?

This latest tragedy is terrible on so many levels. Once the young man has proper medication, it is likely that his psychosis will clear up, and he will  suffer from tremendous guilt and self-hatred for hurting someone. He will have to live with the actions he committed while psychotic. The other part of this tragedy is for all people with a mental illness; we all look dangerous which is rarely the case. Of course, someone was hurt, and that is always the worst part of any incident like this.

This story saddens me so deeply for everyone involved.  We need better treatment and laws. I simply don’t have all the answers for what the best treatment and better laws would be.

 

If You Were To Make Me A Character In Your Writing, What Would You Say?

28 Wednesday Oct 2015

Posted by in mental illness, schizophrenia, writing

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I am taking a creative nonfiction class online from UCLA. One of the students in the class wrote an essay about himself and a relative or friend of his, whose name is, Richard. I loved the way the author of the story described Richard – wearing a helmet, slapping his hands to his head, wringing his hands, excited hoots and hollers. By the way that the author described Richard it was obvious to the reader that Richard had a disability of some kind, but the author never labels Richard, and he never discloses the disability. Richard is just a person with unique characteristics.

This made me think about my illness. How would another writer describe me, letting the reader know that I have a disability, but never naming the disability? What would be written? What could a writer say about my behavior that might help a reader guess that I have schizophrenia without spelling it out?

Of course, the writer could make it easy, and say that I was talking to voices that no one else could see, but that wouldn’t be an accurate portrayal of my everyday life.

The writer could also tell the readers that I believe some elaborate conspiracy theory about aliens, or a secret government agency, but again, that wouldn’t be an accurate portrayal of my everyday life.

In order to be true to my real experience. The author would have to know me very well, or be a very keen observer, in order to detect my symptoms and describe them accurately to a reader.

This imaginary writer, who is writing about me, without labeling me, but wanting the reader to know I have a disability, would probably start out by having me eating a meal. S/he could say that I thought my food tasted funny and have me end up either pushing my food around my plate pretending to eat a little bit of it, or changing my plate of food for whatever my husband may have ordered.

The writer could have my husband and I traveling on an airplane. I might be visibly agitated. My husband trying to do everything to distract and comfort me. I may end up taking a pill and later calming down enough to play hangman with my husband or read an article.

The writer might have me at a conference, or with a group of people and then follow me home, where I can’t get comfortable. I walk between my bedroom and my living room. I curl up on my bed for a few minutes and then get up and go to the computer to check my e-mail. Nothing I do seems to make me happy. I am agitated. I may end up taking a pill and going to sleep for half of an hour. I wake up and I no longer need to move from room to room.

No matter how the writer described me, if s/he was true to my daily experiences, then it is doubtful that the reader would guess that my  disability is schizophrenia.

I find both joy and sorrow in this reality. I find joy knowing that my illness isn’t easily identifiable, I find sorrow knowing that the stereotypes are so ingrained in our culture that few if any could recognize a severe mental illness if they had a description of symptoms described to them.

Like Richard, I am just a unique character, that needs no label. I hope a writer would handle me with so much affection, compassion, and care.

What Does Schizophrenia Feel Like?

24 Saturday Oct 2015

Posted by in mental illness, schizophrenia

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No two people have schizophrenia or symptoms the exact same way. What does a day with schizophrenia look like for me? First of all, I feel like I am relatively fortunate because I am not currently hearing voices, some people (even on medication) hear voices constantly. I also feel relatively fortunate that I don’t hallucinate on a daily basis (at least not in the traditional sense that many people with schizophrenia report like shadows that look like people, etc.). I do, however, have olfactory hallucinations.

Olfactory hallucinations have to do with smelling things that aren’t there. I frequently smell things my husband can’t smell and if it is a chemical smell I will develop some paranoia about it. I may even think I have accidently eaten it and that I am dying.

Some people go in and out of psychosis. When I am psychotic, I am not at all like the person who is typing this right now.  Psychosis is totally different. For me, psychosis eventually brings terror, delusions, voices, suicidal tendencies, and distorted reality. For example, the person I love most in this world, and who is my inspiration, and who I honestly believe is the best person I have ever met, is not someone I know or love when I am psychotic. That should show you the huge difference from what I experience almost every day and what I experience when I am psychotic.

Although I am nothing like my baseline self when I am psychotic, still psychosis is not a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde scenario. It is not multiple personality disorder. Over time, if unchecked, for me, it is more like a very creepy (terrifying) circus that has gone terribly wrong and that I am trapped in and can’t get out of.  Although I don’t experience episodes of psychosis much anymore, I live in constant fear of becoming psychotic. For me, it is the worst part of schizophrenia. It is always a real possibility that I will die during an episode of psychosis.

The two symptoms that I battle with the most on a daily basis are paranoia and anxiety. I have episodes of anxiety that make it impossible for me to do anything besides trying to relieve the anxiety. It is a catch 22 because the more I focus on relieving the anxiety, the more anxious I become. Anxiety ruins many events for me. At a writer’s conference, I will almost always be overcome with anxiety and have to leave to be by myself and try to diminish the symptoms. When I see friends, and I am socializing, I often have a panic attack and need to go home quickly. Being around people in general can easily trigger a wave of anxiety. I take medication for this, but this symptom is probably the one that keeps me from leading a “normal” life.

Paranoia comes and goes for me. I have a great deal of paranoia around food. I frequently feel like my food is poisoned and I refuse to eat it. I have all kinds of rituals around eating that make being out socially, enjoying a meal, awkward.

The worst kind of paranoia has to do with standing up for myself. When I stand up for myself I have the worst episodes of paranoia. I believe the person, or corporation, or organization, etc. that I am standing up against are going to come after me. This is one of my symptoms that I find the hardest to live with. Constantly being fearful when you are just trying to be treated decently and fairly in this world is difficult to live with. Believing that people are going to punish you for disagreeing with them is a terrible way to live. We all need to feel some form of safety and comfort and trust in order to be healthy and happy. Those things are disrupted for me by schizophrenia.

I’m not asking for your pity. I have a good life. I am trying to create understanding. Schizophrenia looks differently for everyone, but now you know a little bit more of how it feels for me. Would I say having schizophrenia is hard? Yes, I think having schizophrenia is hard. Is it harder than cancer, heart disease, or any other illness? I don’t know.

I wish that there was as much support for schizophrenia as there is for cancer – pink ribbons, pink arm bands, pink cups, walks, runs, company fundraisers, support from friends and neighbors. Schizophrenia is a lonely disease, and not too many people talk about it (unless it has to do with a crime) and people definitely aren’t turning their social media a certain color to raise awareness. Most people with schizophrenia suffer alone, or with their family (if they are lucky enough to have family). That reality may just be worse than the majority of symptoms.

Learning to Accept the Different Experiences with Mental Illness

05 Sunday Jul 2015

Posted by in bipolar, caregivers, mental illness, schizophrenia

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About six months ago I was one of ten winners in a memoir writing contest.  Our memoirs were selected to be performed by actors on stage.  Last week was the performance.

Mine was the second piece to be read. It was about living with schizophrenia and how I have a good life despite my illness.

The second to last piece was written by a woman whose mother had schizophrenia. I don’t know why, but every time I try to get out there with my story about how schizophrenia is not what people think it is, and bring my strengths and my success to the forefront, someone else has a story about how hard their life has been due to having a parent with schizophrenia.  This has happened in all of my writing groups, and now it has happened on stage.

I have no doubt that people my age who had parents with schizophrenia had it tough, because when they were children, the treatments for schizophrenia were not what they are today. No doubt it was difficult to live with a parent with delusions, and hallucinations.

I feel like I am working in the opposite direction of most of the people who grew up with a parent who had schizophrenia though. I am trying to get people to understand the illness, to have empathy for the people who suffer from it, to see our humanity and our strengths, and to talk openly about our daily struggles. The people writing about their parents are trying to get support, understanding and empathy for their own experience, and their experience is often a painful one due to the illness of their parent.

I once said in a writer’s workshop, “I don’t know what kind of parent I would have been.” A woman with a mother who had schizophrenia said, “Well, you are about to find out.” She said it with such anger and force that I was taken back. Are any two mothers really alike? How did she know I would be like her mother?  She was obviously projecting her anger at her mother on to me.

I have anger of my own. I get tired of being alongside people who want to say how tough it is to have a relative with schizophrenia.  I want to shout, “What about the person who has/had the illness? Do you think they chose to have it? Do you think they would have traded a healthy mind for a mind with a disease? Do you think they had hallucinations and delusions on purpose?

I know this isn’t the right attitude for an artist or for an advocate of the mentally ill and their families.

As someone who loves to write, I want all people to be able to tell their stories, and I think everyone’s story is unique and important. I also know that mental illness is difficult on everyone it touches.

I need to remember that my story intersects with other stories. It intersects with the story my parents could tell. It intersects with the story my siblings could tell. It intersects with the story my husband could tell.  Other people’s stories do the same – the parents of those adult children could write their story, and it would be very different than the one told by their adult child.

It is important for all of us tell our truth. I want the freedom to tell mine, and I need to accept that not everyone’s truth will fit neatly with mine.  I need to accept that the reality of schizophrenia lies in all of the stories from every perspective. Each of our stories is like a piece of a quilt that doesn’t make a bed cover until they are all sewn together.

Stories can be hard to hear, but continue to write them, and I will continue to read them, because your colorful square of fabric is as necessary as mine.

Confidence and Mental Illness

21 Sunday Jun 2015

Posted by in bipolar, mental illness, schizophrenia, stigma, writing

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I don’t know what it is like to have healthy dose of self-confidence. The fact that I hid my diagnosis from friends, family, acquaintances, and coworkers means I was ashamed of it. I didn’t feel confident enough in myself to actually be myself around most people. I was afraid of criticism, judgement, rejection, and abandonment. Those are not things confident people worry about (I know there are a lot of insecure people walking around).

I am not completely without confidence though. I am confident in my ability to study. I know that classes that I am interested in, that if I were to take those classes, I am capable of working hard enough to get an A. (The only classes that I can take anymore are online though, because the classroom setting eventually overwhelms me).  I started this paragraph with something I feel confident about, and ended it with my limitations – very telling.

Almost every time I write something, especially something personal, which most of my writing is, I feel like curling up underneath my bedcovers and hiding. Exposing my inner self after all of these years, is still not comfortable. I need a lot of support that what I write doesn’t make me look foolish or stupid. I take a huge risk every day exposing myself and I need assurance that I am okay. My husband is the one who reassures me. I also have a few friends that I will occasionally ask about my writing, and they will encourage me. I feel like contacting them every day, but I don’t want to bother them with my insecurities.

Because of my insecurities, I feel like people who criticize me, are the kind of people who like to watch others suffer. I don’t mean feedback. I get feedback on my writing all the time – change this, that comma is in the wrong place, this sounds better, etc. I actually appreciate that kind of critique or editing. My writing needs it, and I welcome it. I am talking about non-constructive criticism. The kind of criticism you get when you give someone some news that makes you extraordinarily happy and they throw something out to override your excitement.

It takes so much for me to have a dream. It takes so much for me to have the courage to even get out of bed some mornings. It takes me so much courage to accept rejection from my writing submissions to magazines, and then edit those submissions and turn around, and send them somewhere else. I never quite feel good enough. At first when I receive an acceptance for my writing, I am elated, and then someone will make a comment, and the elation is gone. At that point, I am back to being riddled with doubt. It is as if I build and build only to have what I built swept away in an instant.

The reason I wrote this is not to get your support, or to remind you of the cliché, “Be kind, because everyone you meet is battling something.”  No, I wrote this because some people with a mental illness have grandiose beliefs about their talent, their appearance, their abilities, etc. and no amount of reality or criticism gets them to alter their perception of themselves.  I read their work on the Internet every day, and I wonder would it be easier to live with the beliefs that I am special, gifted, and exceptionally beautiful, or is it easier to live with self-doubt and fear that has to be overcome daily?

I think my road is harder to walk the stones are jagged and cut bare feet, but it is not a symptom of the illness I have. In a way, it has its roots in my illness, because there is so much shame around having a mental illness, but in this case, my mind is not struggling with fantasy or fiction. It is struggling to discover the facts, the facts about me, and my ability to create nonfiction.

The Changing Symptoms of Schizophrenia

20 Saturday Jun 2015

Posted by in mental illness, schizophrenia

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Before my last big psychotic break, I was spontaneous. When I was dating my husband, I would drive from Tacoma to Los Angeles, or hop on a weekend flight to see him.  In 2006, my husband and I quit our jobs, sold our home, bought a van, and toured the country for six months. As a surprise, I once bought us tickets to Paris. I was always up for adventure. I was always up for a new experience.

So much has changed since then.

While my positive symptoms of schizophrenia (hallucinations and delusions) have decreased, my negative symptoms, the ones that have the most impact on a patient’s quality of life, have increased dramatically. (I know it sounds confusing to call anything about schizophrenia “positive” but that is the way doctors break the symptoms up.)  An article about positive and negative symptoms can be found here).

I am no longer spontaneous and I no longer have the desire to socialize. Both of these are considered “negative” symptoms that adversely affect a person with schizophrenia’s life. Don’t get me wrong, I have friends, and I love when I see them (a group of our friends are coming over tomorrow for brunch), but I can go weeks without talking to anyone face to face besides my husband. I know it isn’t healthy, but the actual drive or desire to socialize is gone. I have to remind myself, usually my husband reminds me, when we haven’t seen our friends, or gone out for a while. It has nothing to do with how I feel about people. I still love the same people, I still meet new people, and want them in my life, but there is nothing driving me to socialize like loneliness, or boredom, or a need to connect. No need for excitement, or a sense of adventure. Those things are what are missing.

No loneliness? No boredom? No need to connect? No need for excitement or adventure? I find these symptoms to be killing what was once a big part of my personality.

I really hope the symptoms don’t continue to take the spark out of me, and leave me as a person who is contained mostly in the mind, because I find the thought of living most of my life alone, in my unreliable, and at times terrifying mind, unthinkable.