I was 16 when I got diagnosed with schizophrenia. Although each day is different, some days are really good, but in the end, I still have mental illness.
I hear voices. I see things others cant.
I wake up in the morning and climb out of bed. I check my teeth to make sure they have not fallen out. They haven’t.
I take my meds now I am wide awake. I get dressed, taking off the drool stained shirt I slept in. My medication make me drool. Yes its a side effect.
I walk down the stairs counting to 23 as slow as I can to get to the bottom by 16. I do and win a point.
Breakfast. I make a smoothie, same as everyday I am scared my hand with get ripped apart by the blade.
I eat my smoothie.
Time to head to my therapy apt with MA. We drive there, me in the passenger seat. I have one hand on my belt and one on my cell. I am scared we will crash.
We get to the building where I have therapy. My step dad drops me off. I walk up the ramp aware of all my surroundings. I get inside. I check the time, I am not late, thank God.
I wait for my therapist to get me. There are 3 people in the room and 2 spirits. I can tell the difference between the two because spirits can walk though walls.
MA calls me. We talk. I check the time often. Session is over. I opened the door to leave and check both directions before exiting.
My step Dad picks me up. We drive home. On the way I call Mom for the 7th time that day. She is fine. I am scared the house is on fire. I hold my breath. Its not. Thank you Jesus.
I go inside scared my Mom had fallen. She hasn’t. I am exhausted by now. Its hard to have your mind go 24/7. I take my 3:00 pills. I need to nap but I cant sleep. There are voices in my head telling me I am a stupid b****. I put the pillow over my head, they get louder. I growl at them to leave me alone. They don’t and I get annoyed. I am scared there is a monster under my bed. So I don’t go down to tell Mom. Things get worse and there are ants covering my ceiling! I get really scared. I race down stairs crying. Mom asks what’s wrong.
I tell her and she gives me a pill. No luck things have gone too far, too fast.
She calls 911 and the EMTs arrive. I am on the floor crying with my hands covering my ears.
They strap me to the stretcher and bring me to the ER. I am a wreak. I am hearing voices and seeing scary images.
I lay in bed screaming. They decide to put me in the restraint chair. Not a good idea, I am SO scared. I try to bite my arm off, no luck. They give me a shot and I calm down. Now its time to wait. Wait to see where I was going from here: home or psych ward. They decide that admitting me to the psych ward was the best idea. So I go.
I am scared of the patients. I am scared of the staff, I am scared of guns. I am scared the food is poison I fear they will give me wrong meds on purpose. I am crying again.
That. Is a day In the life of a schizophrenic Not a typical day, but a day. *based on a true story of my life I live day to day*