Overcoming Madness

Right now I really should be working on a response essay for my pointless remedial English class that Capella seemed to feel I needed to take. I protested to various counselors asking them to review my transcripts citing that I had taken two English courses at the art institute and then an advanced placement English course at NYU but they still insisted that I would need this class for my psychology degree. I think it goes more like they needed the $950. I decided that I needed to transfer out of the school… this came after a confrontation with a professor who insisted that “I statements” were never to be used in discussion posts and I, having enough with her foolishness, decided I would rather not learn anything from her. So now, down to one unnecessary class, I’m finishing my requirements to avoid being charged by the school and withdrawing at the end of the term. Next destination? Westfield State.

But this isn't why I’m blogging today. My school drama has always been present and I've always been nomadic. Thankfully this time around I've decided on my major, I've obtained employment in the field to ensure that I LIKE what I’m going to be doing, and I’m going about this the right way now. So that’s that.

Today, however, I've been reflecting on the journey I've experienced in the last six months. Leaving my job in medical after a mental break, deciding to downgrade my medications, finding spirituality again, backing off on my medication, and reevaluating who/what is important enough to have in my life going forward and what it is that I’ll accept from others as appropriate as well as learning to identify when I’m not being fair to others as well. It has been… illuminating to say the absolute least on the subject. I’d forgotten that I’d had this amount of strength inside of me and being able to pull from it has been invaluable.

Part of me almost wants to laugh when I think about how I was insistent upon the fact that I absolutely needed to be on disability back in April. That I would never be able to work again. Little did I know that my mental illness hadn't even fully exploded yet and that the worst of it was going to come in the form of a full on auditory hallucinations, dissociative episodes, and anxiety attacks that would rival anything I’d experienced up to that point. But I was so sure that I was fucked up THEN. The government disagreed with me though and told me I was fully capable of working even if I found my interactions with people difficult and I conceded to their ruling and looked for work. We all know now that I have a job that I love working with people who have similar histories to my own past as described in my last entry.

What some don’t know is that in the time it took to get to that point I put myself through some of the most rigorous mental work that I’ve ever gone through alone in a long time. My therapist had been dismissed and the new one was next to useless (he’s no longer in the picture now either) so I was left to figure it out on my own. Learning to cope with the fact that I felt disconnected with my body whenever I left the house was a new one. Up to that point I’d had shades of this experience, feeling “loopy” when I’d go to stores, events, performing, etc and I would breathe through it. However, as time went on this became more intense and I started to feel like I wasn’t actually there but observing the entire experience. I came to learn that I was dissociating and doing something called depersonalizing. I was there but I wasn’t. I was on autopilot and this was a result of trauma, years of it, the last of it had been the extreme shit I’d gone through with the medical job and my family issues. With a lot of journaling and self-awareness I’ve been able to recognize when this is coming on. When it does, I don’t fight it because it’s not harmful. It’s just weird and as long as I can do what I need to, it works. It’s even come in handy during a few crises at work. So I consider it a superpower now. Positive spin helps!

Sadly not all of the reflection time had positive results and it was during this time that my anxiety attacks at home took on a new form and meaning. In the past I’d have these attacks where I became hyper aware of my surroundings, I’d get scared, but after a time they would pass but I think they were perhaps a precursor to the later development of the voices I now hear. Initially it started with whispers that sounded as if they could be coming from other apartments in the building but upon investigation they weren’t. Not long after that they become fully formed voices that would say things that I didn’t care to hear. Was it scary? Yes. It still is sometimes and when I’m stressed or extremely tired they become more… present. But having a logical attitude toward them has helped. Sadly the doctor had been seeing up to that point, who is now thankfully retiring, was dismissive and said it was “just anxiety” and “you know how you get.” I stopped seeing him after this. I figured if he wouldn’t help me I’d help myself and I did all the research that I could on hearing voices. I’ve learned a lot and I’ve been fortunate to have a few supportive friends to talk with about it when I was going through the initial stages of accepting this new development. This blog now is me officially outing myself as someone who hears voices. Part of me hopes that there are no adverse effects but at the same time I hope it serves as a means to help others who experience similar issues. It will be okay. You’re not going to die and even if the voices say they hate you, it’s best to reality check and remind yourself that there are many others that don’t. Sometimes I think it’s just a part of myself that is saying these things to push me to be a better person. It’s the best I’ve got to try and make it work for me.

The big hurdle of delusional thinking was terrible. Medical issues were my fixation. Any ache, paresthesias, headache, skipped heartbeat, or bout of confusion had me convinced that I had a tumor in my brain, some horrible neurological issue, or that I was just simply dying. Identifying the triggers for these thoughts was incredibly helpful. My own were easy to find and when I was able to get a handle on my Dr. Google addiction and stop looking up every single issue I had, my visits to the doctor ended and my persistent belief that “something” was wrong and “they’re all lying to me” began to abate. I fear it still sometimes but it’s always something that I work through. My second delusion was that my friends really didn’t like me and that they were just going to hurt me or they were planning to. I found basis for this in the actions of others I had known in the past. By realistically assessing everyone I knew and eliminating contact and the ability to look in on those that I’d had a bad history with, I was able to focus on my positive interactions with others. Sometimes I still have intense debates with people, they know who they are haha, but I’ve learned to understand that this doesn’t mean we’re not friends anymore. We just disagree and when they post something later, it isn’t about me and if I worry that it is, it’s better to ask than assume.

My mind and mental issues are a work in progress. They always will be thanks to the genetics that I was given. Profound mental illness runs in my family. Suicide is common. Substance abuse is almost always present in virtually every person on the more recent tree. Schizophrenia, psychopathy, and sociopathy are badges pinned to my father’s name when I give a history in my doctor visits due to his horrible actions. My mother is a depressed narcissist, my brother is… something not good. My grandparents are beyond fucked on both sides. This deck was stacked against me from day one without even adding in the environmental shit that occurred. But by working hard to revise my view of the paradigm and reaffirm that I am NOT my illness and that it doesn’t run me, I run it, I’m able to live my life with a high level of function and, now, peace. That was all I could ever ask for and now I’m working to give that to others. I hope I can do them justice and give them what many never felt I deserved: A chance to be. Some say you make your own breaks but a little help and guidance is invaluable.