Hidden disabilities

I was walking down the hall on my way to a practice room when I noticed a friend looking unusually sad. I stopped to ask if she was alright. "Yea, I'm just struggling right now. I can't concentrate on school because of some problems at work." I smiled and said, "Well, if you need to talk I am here." My friend then hugged me around my neck and began to cry. When I say cry, I mean she was crying like a sleepy, hungry baby who just witnessed a dozen puppies get ran over twice by scary clowns on loud motorcycles. I walked her to a quieter place and she began to tell me everything. I am the type of person that when I notice someone having a similar problem to something I have faced before, I like to tell them about it to encourage them. She was telling me about how depressed she had become and it seemed as if no one understood. That is when I told her about my schizophrenia and the problems I face with it, including depression. She stopped me and said, "You don't look schizophrenic."

That, believe it or not, is one I hear quite often. I'm not exactly sure what a schizophrenic looks like. As far as I know I look just like everyone else. I just smiled and said, "You don't want to see me when I do look schizophrenic." She just laughed. At least I could make her smile.

It just makes me wonder why people only seem to care about certain disabilities. People care about people missing limbs, people with some sort of paralysis, someone with skin disorders, or people who are considered blind. Most of these people we can tell somehow have a disability. I think that people only seem to really care about disabilities that they can see.That's why there isn't as much help for people with bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, major depressive disorder, DID, or what ever. People try to keep those ones secrets when I sometimes think those are the ones that need the most help. I can't really name 1 aspect of my life that schizophrenia hasn't screwed me over in. I am doing waaaay better compared to last year. I am able to function and I can brush my own teeth, but I know schizophrenia can try to take over my mind again any time is pretty well pleases and there is really nothing that I can do about it. Where is my help though? Where is my support? No where. People are afraid of me. People are ashamed of me. People often think I am faking it because they don't see me when I'm mindlessly crying and talking to God knows what in a corner with my blood splattered on the wall because for some reason I thought it made sense to stab myself with a key over and over. We can't ignore hidden disabilities nor the people with them. They are responsible for so many lives each year. Shaming someone for having a mental illness kinda also puts their blood on your hands when they don't go for help. Don't be ashamed. Don't be afraid. Help someone by speaking up. Your voice may be the only kind one they hear and may actually make a difference. 

                                                                  Love, a schizophrenic

9/11

Most of my post are along the lines of mental health schizophrenia or other mood/ psych disorders, but today is different. Today is a day of remembrance. I thought it necessary to write a post honoring what this day means to America.
I was in 3rd grade doing some classwork when a next door teacher came in and whispered something to my teacher. I noticed the horror on her face, but thought if it was something important she would let us know. Instead,we all just kept working. She tried to make things as normal as possible so we didn't panic about something we didn't really understand. I vaguely remember hearing her voice shaking as she spoke to us and said, "It is time to line up for lunch."
My parents couldn't come pick us up that day so we went home with our best friends. We walked in and the videos just kept playing over and over. The news people were talking about different ideas as to what really happened. At first they thought maybe the plane was being flown by a student pilot. Then they thought the pentagon was a military training incident. Finally, they figured out the truth. They even suspected more attacks all across the nation including Charlotte, a large city near home.
I remember for months seeing the faces of the heroes and the pictures of those that died. Everyone was trying to run down the stairs, but the firefighters and police were running up carrying equipment. Then, they'd run down carrying people. Thank you, all you heroes. The way strangers took care of each other amazed me. The patriotism that arose from such an event gave me hope for this nation. It always brings tears to my eyes. It is a shame that it takes something like that to bring a nation together. I saw strangers helping each other regardless of differences. I saw humans caring for other humans. I even saw a man running with his dog in his arms to protect it. It was a horrible day because I also saw people jump from windows because they thought they would have a higher chance of survival by jumping instead of going through the debris and flames. I saw surrounding buildings catch fire and disappear from the amount of whatever that stuff was. I saw American citizens, my people, harmed on their own land. I saw our protectors, our government, attacked. So much happened that day. I still cannot gather all of my thoughts. I can say that I will ALWAYS remember. God.Bless.America.
                                                                    Love, a schizophrenic

Suicide awareness day

Today is suicide awareness day. I know that suicide is a depressing topic, but I also know that it is something many people understand. It isn't about attention, feeling sorry for yourself, or revenge. It isn't always not seeing a better way out. It may be a feeling of invisibility and worthlessness. It may also be an action demanded by hallucinations or even real people. Whatever it is, it is serious. Here is one of my stories about how suicide has impacted my life. Please, share your in the comments if you wish. 

People followed me around school screaming names at me almost like a chant. Some days I couldn't tell what was real and wasn't. The voices in my head telling me to kill myself mixed with the actual ones outside my head. Voices of people who I had never said a word to and voices of those I had to hear from the second I awoke to the second I passed out all shouted at me and at each other. Nothing was ever nice or uplifting. Students at my school would follow me and scream, "Dike! Dike! Dike!" over and over again at me. They'd call me fat (I was 5'7 and 145ibs) and weird. The ones in my head were a little more creative and intricate. They didn't just hate me. They hated each other. They'd cuss me out and each other. They were ALWAYS yelling. It was never nice. They told me a variety of things to do to myself everyday. Things like "cut yourself," or "There is a car. Why don't you jump in front of it?" were heard several times an hour. I wasn't stable mentally, but how could I tell someone that. I could barley hear myself think long enough to gather a simple thought. How was I supposed to explain to people what was going on when I wasn't even sure. I broke down one day and asked my dad if we could talk. Of course he said yes. I remember exactly what I told him. "Do you know how people say you can't think more than 1 thing at a time? Well, I can." I immediately burst into tears. I told him about some of the things they said. It wasn't long after that I began having back to back hospitalizations. It wasn't long after that that I began attempting what I was told. I cut several probably hundreds of times, I tried ways or strangulation, I even tried the cars. People always stopped me or got to me before I could bleed too much from the cuts on my wrist, sides, legs, and neck. I wasn't really all that depressed as much as I was hopeless and being controlled by command and tactile hallucinations. If I didn't do what the commands said, I would be bitten. Those bites and scratches hurt worse then my sharp rocks, broken glass, or knives. THey worked together to get me to cooperate. I had no choice. It was either pain or more pain. I was lucky. I had someone there to stop me. The look in my dad's eye every time he told me he loved me made me hold on a bit longer. My sister yelling at my hallucinations and calling them butt heads made me hold on a bit longer. Yes, even the psych wards and the people there made me hold on a bit longer. The medication unclouded things some so I had more of a mental view. I had more of a choice. I chose to hold on a bit longer.

Not everyone is that lucky. It is up to the rest of us to help whoever needs us. Be that smile, the warm hug, the ride to the dr's office, or the one who tries to understand. It may make a difference. It won't solve people's problems, but it may help them hold on a bit longer.

                                                                   Love, a schizophrenic

just random thoughts saved as a draft from forever ago

I was lucky. My delusions and hallucinations weren't so bothersome that I couldn't focus during class. There where a few occasions that they were problematic, but were quickly solved with the help of well informed teachers. My teachers knew I wasn't quite like he other children. They knew that something about my mind was a bit...off, but helped me never the less. Some children and adults aren't as lucky though. Some people are educated through a home bound program and others are in special schools or home schooled.
Young children usually can't hold still very long at all and most teachers are trained to build lesson plans based on student needs. This can make it hard for teachers to notice mild symptoms. The child will continue through life thinking that what is in their brain is normal. If they do notice it isn't right or it is so bad they can't handle it, they don't always have the words to describe it. Grades can drop, irritability may rise, eating and sleep patterns may be disrupted, and some kids may pull away from other children in general or just their age. I pulled away from children my age and liked the older kids better.
Teenagers may also have problems with grades, carrying out and holding down a job, and many other things. In many cases, this is when the visits to the psychiatric facilities begin. Drs will start throwing out other diagnosis besides, add, adhd, or autism. Drs start looking at depression, anxiety disorders, or OCD. Most Drs try to avoid bipolar disorder, DID, and schizophrenia. They start small. add to anxiety to major depressive. Then they like to add in schizoid personality disorder or schizotypal. They might even throw around the word "schizophreniform." Then, they'll go back and forth between bipolar and schizoaffective. After a big psychotic break they will finally make a decision. This is how things seemed to me anyway. This isn't how all Drs do things. Many people will kill themselves or be locked up by the time they hit 20. I was lucky with that too. I was just in and out of psych wards for a few years.
Making friends that are real can be tough. I used to stop and talk to people on the street. I kept seeing them around. One day, my best friend asked me who I was talking to because there wasn't anyone there. It freaked some people out and they didn't hang out with me anymore. Now, I wait until I see someone that I know is real speak to a new person. That way, I can make sure the new person is real too and I don't scare people when I'm in public.
Focusing on work is nearly impossible when you have a mental disorder. Schizophrenics can't concentrate because of disorganization, racing thoughts, or hallucinations. I know this from experience. I don't know about other disorders as detailed, but I know it is still complicated.

It has been a while

It has been a while since I wrote. Life has been hectic and rough. School and work are wearing me out.  I've noticed more intense symptoms since school started. Maybe they aren't more intense. Maybe it is just that school puts me in more situations that are tougher because of my schizophrenia. For example, I can't focus as easily as most people in my classes. I have racing thoughts, hundreds of hallucinations that talk to me or stare at me, I have thoughts that aren't my own, and I can't always connect the words being spoken to me.
I am glad to finally be back in music courses and ensembles. We are starting a sax choir again and we are getting a bass saxophone! Symphonic band is having retreat this weekend. We are going to be in rehearsal sooooooo long, but it will be so worth it. I just figured I would give anyone that cares an update on why I haven't been posting anything new. Remember to love each other and be nice. You never know what difference you will make in someone's life.
                                                               Love, a schizophrenic.