A Decade Of Schizoaffective Disorder

A Decade With Schizoaffective Disorder

Beginning

I originally was writing my story from beginning to end about my journey with Schizoaffective Disorder, but instead I think I'll take the time to write what it is like to have this controversial disorder and will follow up with my story.

First, the basic background. I was diagnosed in 2002, as a senior in high school, with Bipolar Disorder but it was then changed to Schizoaffective Disorder with my mood disorder major depression. I have been relatively silent about my condition, despite wanting to be more vocal, I have just been scared. Normally I'm a fairly open book, if you ask about my scars I will tell you that I cut myself. I typically leave it at that but if you dig further I'll explain that I used to self-mutilate as a teenager. Cutting was my way of dealing with the emotional pain of depression. However, when it comes to my overall experience with Schizoaffective Disorder, I become silent. It isn't because I have nothing to say, boy do I, it is because I'm afraid of how people will react to what I say. Why, you may ask, am I sharing my thoughts now if I feel this way? Simple, for too long I have felt shame. Shame for thoughts that aren't there by choice but by biology. It isn't my thoughts, but a disorders that happen to be in my head. What follows is a glimpse into this world.

Delusions and hallucinations

I've had my share of hallucinations and delusions throughout this past decade. It can really make life hard because it can cause you to doubt everything that you experience. There are times where things don't add up after the fact and I have to wonder if the even happened at all or if it was some fantasy land. When your senses don't work properly it makes it hard to tell what is real and what isn't. I have been lucky enough to be on the fringe where I'm able to tell the difference (as far as I can tell) between reality and hallucination eventually. Though I still have delusions that pop up every so often; my most common one is being paranoid that people have read my thoughts somehow when I walk into a room or they were able to hear my thoughts while I was going to the bathroom or just in another room. It is inconvenient and can cause anxiety but that isn't what has kept me silent all these years. The silence comes from the dark thoughts...

Imagine if you will

That somebody you don't know dies, it should be easy as it happens everyday. How do you feel? Are you sad? Do you even care? I'm sure most people will not care, though they may not admit to it. It is a nameless face and has no impact on you. Now take that feeling and compare it to the feeling of losing a loved one, whether it be a mother, father, best friend, significant other, whatever. How do those feelings compare? Are they the same? My guess, is no. You would most likely feel sadness and hurt that your loved one is gone. It is considered normal, to grieve over somebody you lost and loved. For me, there is no grief. For me, losing a loved one and losing somebody I've never met feels one in the same. I just don't have the connection to others that way, there is an indifference when it comes to people. This is the first part of my shame. I haven't told most of my family because I don't think they would understand. How do you tell somebody that you love them but in the same breath say that the loss of their life would have no impact on you and not only that, you have plans on what you will do with your life after theirs is gone.

Have you ever had the urge or impulse to do something that just comes over you out of the blue? For me, that urge has been homicide. Homicidal thoughts are a symptom of schizophrenia as well as schizoaffective disorder and boy have I had my fair share of them. As a teenager I had the urge to bring in a gun to school and just cause horrible death and then turn the gun on myself. I wasn't bullied, a loner or even unhappy but there was just this desire deep within me that would creep into my mind whenever it had the chance. Luckily I was able to get help and never had my plans come to fruition.

For the longest time, those thoughts went away. I forgot about them, or maybe I just blocked out that I had them. That was until recently. The thoughts have come back. I have a grip on them, but I can't tell you how it feels to have a desire to take another person's life. There are days when I close my eyes, I see and feel myself with my hands on the neck of an individual just pressing with my thumbs on their throat under their jaw slowly robbing them of life. It haunts me. It comes out of the blue and as quick as it came it will fade away. It can be draining trying to deal with the thoughts, but I do and am in control of them.

Takeaway

My goal from writing this and eventually writing a series or just a long essay of sorts is to bring awareness to the disorder that I have but also to try and remove some of the stigma behind it. People who suffer from this or schizophrenia need help. But in a world that is quick to judge, how would somebody who already may feel isolated reach out to get they help they need when theory know that when they share they will be looked down upon.

I used to refer to myself as a monster and didn't think that I was good enough to be on this Earth. It has taken a decade of growing up to draw the line between me and my illness. I didn't choose this and neither does anybody else who suffers from this, but yet, I feel lil ether is a stigma behind it, mores than many other mental illnesses and definitely more than physical illnesses. It would be nice to one day have a level of acceptance where I'm able to put this in my own blog, along side my other writings.