Content warning: verbal abuse and mentions of violence and suicide.
Hello, guys. Paradox here. I came here to share a little background story about myself, and open up about something I usually keep to myself. I know mental health is a serious issue, so I will try my best not to offend anyone going through a crisis. So here goes nothing...
I'm a schizophrenic. But before people start jumping to conclusions, let me tell you how it affects me. I see things. I hear voices. I'm not very good at remembering to do certain things. But I make up for this by keeping a check list. I'm not a very organized person, which is why I keep checklists and timers on me. I have an unnatural fear for crowds of people, and prefer to isolate myself with one or two other people. But even then I enjoy to be alone in general. I become irrationally paranoid over the smallest things. I'm also a very anxious person. I like things done a certain way. And when I get in a situation where things go wrong, my panic quickly turns into anger. I tend to think that my thoughts are not my own. I'm also going through depression. Which comes from years and years of verbal abuse. By now, people are probably wondering if I take medication for this. I do. I'm taking 300mg of fluphenazine and risperidone, I take it once a day because the doses are pretty high.
Now time to get to the meat of this post. What it was like for me growing up with this mental illness. I was raised in a very VERY toxic environment. I was born in Arizona but when I was just a few years old my mother moved us to Detroit after her and my father had a nasty break-up. My mother fell into a repressive state because of the break up, and got into drugs and hanging out with men that didn't treat her well. Because of this, I always left to my own devices. So much to the point that I was forced to turn to the streets just to defend for myself. My mental illness manifested itself when I was eight years old. A kid had stolen a candy bar out of my lunch box and I bashed his head against the foundation of a monkey bars set. I told them that a voice in my head told me to do it. This concerned the teachers and I was sent to a mental hospital for a psychiatric evaluation. I was diagnosed with schizophrenia and what did my mother write this off as? Being crazy. A term you should never casually hurl at a person with a mental illness. This started the years of verbal abuse. My mom called me crazy countless times, told me I should be in a straight jacket, told me I was just a piece of shit like my father, etc. I eventually started to believe these things because of what I was going through. Whenever I would tell her I was seeing things and that I was scared because I kept hearing voices, she told me to just ignore it, and refused to get me the proper treatment. This didn't translate well into my school life. I was getting into fights, my grades were slipping, and I was hanging out with the wrong people. I was bullied day in and day out by my peers for not being normal and not having the best and most trendy clothes. This all lasted until my sophomore year in high school. I fell into depression, and eventually suicide was on my mind. I wrote a suicide note but because I needed someone to help me, I turned to the school counselor. She got me put into another mental hospital where I was put back on my medicine. This got into a huge mess with the CPS because of the conditions I was raised in. They separated me from my mother for neglect because she knew I had this mental illness and refused to do anything about it because she was more concerned with her drugs. My grandfather got custody of me and I moved back to Arizona to live with him and my uncle. I met my dad for the first time since I was eleven. He apologized a lot for not taking me out of that situation, explaining that when he and my mother fell out, he was left stranded in Arizona. Which put things into perspective for me.
So long story short, I was put on my medication that I needed and I was put in a better environment. My father was finally able to show me what being a man is when I started going out and doing gigs with him. I met my other family and found I had more in common with them that I did with my mother's side of the family. What's the point of all this? Well, it's to give you guys a better understanding of what kind of circumstances I came from, and what circumstances I'm in today. Looking back, I realized I should've reached out for help, but I had it put in my mind that no one cared, so I stayed silent on my problems.Now that I'm a young adult now, I realize how serious of a problem this is. So I do everything in my power to try and deal with my mental illness. Taking my prescribed medication, checking in with the college psychologist once a week(such a nice and humble woman), and keeping myself occupied with things I like such as role-play. As my grandfather always told me, "An idle mind is the devil's playground".
Sigh... sorry for such a long post guys. I just felt like I needed to share this with you guys. You all seem very supportive here so I figured I would share my story with you guys. Thank you to every one who takes the time to read my post.
Hello, guys. Paradox here. I came here to share a little background story about myself, and open up about something I usually keep to myself. I know mental health is a serious issue, so I will try my best not to offend anyone going through a crisis. So here goes nothing...
I'm a schizophrenic. But before people start jumping to conclusions, let me tell you how it affects me. I see things. I hear voices. I'm not very good at remembering to do certain things. But I make up for this by keeping a check list. I'm not a very organized person, which is why I keep checklists and timers on me. I have an unnatural fear for crowds of people, and prefer to isolate myself with one or two other people. But even then I enjoy to be alone in general. I become irrationally paranoid over the smallest things. I'm also a very anxious person. I like things done a certain way. And when I get in a situation where things go wrong, my panic quickly turns into anger. I tend to think that my thoughts are not my own. I'm also going through depression. Which comes from years and years of verbal abuse. By now, people are probably wondering if I take medication for this. I do. I'm taking 300mg of fluphenazine and risperidone, I take it once a day because the doses are pretty high.
Now time to get to the meat of this post. What it was like for me growing up with this mental illness. I was raised in a very VERY toxic environment. I was born in Arizona but when I was just a few years old my mother moved us to Detroit after her and my father had a nasty break-up. My mother fell into a repressive state because of the break up, and got into drugs and hanging out with men that didn't treat her well. Because of this, I always left to my own devices. So much to the point that I was forced to turn to the streets just to defend for myself. My mental illness manifested itself when I was eight years old. A kid had stolen a candy bar out of my lunch box and I bashed his head against the foundation of a monkey bars set. I told them that a voice in my head told me to do it. This concerned the teachers and I was sent to a mental hospital for a psychiatric evaluation. I was diagnosed with schizophrenia and what did my mother write this off as? Being crazy. A term you should never casually hurl at a person with a mental illness. This started the years of verbal abuse. My mom called me crazy countless times, told me I should be in a straight jacket, told me I was just a piece of shit like my father, etc. I eventually started to believe these things because of what I was going through. Whenever I would tell her I was seeing things and that I was scared because I kept hearing voices, she told me to just ignore it, and refused to get me the proper treatment. This didn't translate well into my school life. I was getting into fights, my grades were slipping, and I was hanging out with the wrong people. I was bullied day in and day out by my peers for not being normal and not having the best and most trendy clothes. This all lasted until my sophomore year in high school. I fell into depression, and eventually suicide was on my mind. I wrote a suicide note but because I needed someone to help me, I turned to the school counselor. She got me put into another mental hospital where I was put back on my medicine. This got into a huge mess with the CPS because of the conditions I was raised in. They separated me from my mother for neglect because she knew I had this mental illness and refused to do anything about it because she was more concerned with her drugs. My grandfather got custody of me and I moved back to Arizona to live with him and my uncle. I met my dad for the first time since I was eleven. He apologized a lot for not taking me out of that situation, explaining that when he and my mother fell out, he was left stranded in Arizona. Which put things into perspective for me.
So long story short, I was put on my medication that I needed and I was put in a better environment. My father was finally able to show me what being a man is when I started going out and doing gigs with him. I met my other family and found I had more in common with them that I did with my mother's side of the family. What's the point of all this? Well, it's to give you guys a better understanding of what kind of circumstances I came from, and what circumstances I'm in today. Looking back, I realized I should've reached out for help, but I had it put in my mind that no one cared, so I stayed silent on my problems.Now that I'm a young adult now, I realize how serious of a problem this is. So I do everything in my power to try and deal with my mental illness. Taking my prescribed medication, checking in with the college psychologist once a week(such a nice and humble woman), and keeping myself occupied with things I like such as role-play. As my grandfather always told me, "An idle mind is the devil's playground".
Sigh... sorry for such a long post guys. I just felt like I needed to share this with you guys. You all seem very supportive here so I figured I would share my story with you guys. Thank you to every one who takes the time to read my post.
Heya. That took a lot of courage to write and post, I am sure. I cannot say I myself personally know what having a mental illness is like, or what growing up in an abusive environment is like, but I do have friends who have grown up in such things and I know it is hard for them to talk about things like this even with people they know are caring and supportive, even the closest of supportive friends and family.
I feel I can truthfully say I believe the people here are a set of people you can count on to be supportive, and I think it is good that you both got help, found people you feel comfortable enough with to trust like this, and that you found a creative outlet that helps get you through the bad times.
I feel I can truthfully say I believe the people here are a set of people you can count on to be supportive, and I think it is good that you both got help, found people you feel comfortable enough with to trust like this, and that you found a creative outlet that helps get you through the bad times.
Hey there Paradox! This is an important and elucidating look into the struggle of living with mental health--thank you so much for sharing it with us. I'm genuinely happy you have the support now that you weren't given as a kid. Turning to the counselor when you were younger was a very brave choice, and I applaud you for having the courage to ask for help when you need it. We actually have a list of mental health resources to act as a starting point for people who are struggling, but getting help from a mental health professional is so important!
We actually have a list of mental health resources to act as a starting point for people who are struggling, but getting help from a mental health professional is so important!
-Walking_Parad0x7 wrote:
Content warning: verbal abuse and mentions of violence and suicide.
Hello, guys. Paradox here. I came here to share a little background story about myself, and open up about something I usually keep to myself. I know mental health is a serious issue, so I will try my best not to offend anyone going through a crisis. So here goes nothing...
I'm a schizophrenic. But before people start jumping to conclusions, let me tell you how it affects me. I see things. I hear voices. I'm not very good at remembering to do certain things. But I make up for this by keeping a check list. I'm not a very organized person, which is why I keep checklists and timers on me. I have an unnatural fear for crowds of people, and prefer to isolate myself with one or two other people. But even then I enjoy to be alone in general. I become irrationally paranoid over the smallest things. I'm also a very anxious person. I like things done a certain way. And when I get in a situation where things go wrong, my panic quickly turns into anger. I tend to think that my thoughts are not my own. I'm also going through depression. Which comes from years and years of verbal abuse. By now, people are probably wondering if I take medication for this. I do. I'm taking 300mg of fluphenazine and risperidone, I take it once a day because the doses are pretty high.
Now time to get to the meat of this post. What it was like for me growing up with this mental illness. I was raised in a very VERY toxic environment. I was born in Arizona but when I was just a few years old my mother moved us to Detroit after her and my father had a nasty break-up. My mother fell into a repressive state because of the break up, and got into drugs and hanging out with men that didn't treat her well. Because of this, I always left to my own devices. So much to the point that I was forced to turn to the streets just to defend for myself. My mental illness manifested itself when I was eight years old. A kid had stolen a candy bar out of my lunch box and I bashed his head against the foundation of a monkey bars set. I told them that a voice in my head told me to do it. This concerned the teachers and I was sent to a mental hospital for a psychiatric evaluation. I was diagnosed with schizophrenia and what did my mother write this off as? Being crazy. A term you should never casually hurl at a person with a mental illness. This started the years of verbal abuse. My mom called me crazy countless times, told me I should be in a straight jacket, told me I was just a piece of shit like my father, etc. I eventually started to believe these things because of what I was going through. Whenever I would tell her I was seeing things and that I was scared because I kept hearing voices, she told me to just ignore it, and refused to get me the proper treatment. This didn't translate well into my school life. I was getting into fights, my grades were slipping, and I was hanging out with the wrong people. I was bullied day in and day out by my peers for not being normal and not having the best and most trendy clothes. This all lasted until my sophomore year in high school. I fell into depression, and eventually suicide was on my mind. I wrote a suicide note but because I needed someone to help me, I turned to the school counselor. She got me put into another mental hospital where I was put back on my medicine. This got into a huge mess with the CPS because of the conditions I was raised in. They separated me from my mother for neglect because she knew I had this mental illness and refused to do anything about it because she was more concerned with her drugs. My grandfather got custody of me and I moved back to Arizona to live with him and my uncle. I met my dad for the first time since I was eleven. He apologized a lot for not taking me out of that situation, explaining that when he and my mother fell out, he was left stranded in Arizona. Which put things into perspective for me.
So long story short, I was put on my medication that I needed and I was put in a better environment. My father was finally able to show me what being a man is when I started going out and doing gigs with him. I met my other family and found I had more in common with them that I did with my mother's side of the family. What's the point of all this? Well, it's to give you guys a better understanding of what kind of circumstances I came from, and what circumstances I'm in today. Looking back, I realized I should've reached out for help, but I had it put in my mind that no one cared, so I stayed silent on my problems.Now that I'm a young adult now, I realize how serious of a problem this is. So I do everything in my power to try and deal with my mental illness. Taking my prescribed medication, checking in with the college psychologist once a week(such a nice and humble woman), and keeping myself occupied with things I like such as role-play. As my grandfather always told me, "An idle mind is the devil's playground".
Sigh... sorry for such a long post guys. I just felt like I needed to share this with you guys. You all seem very supportive here so I figured I would share my story with you guys. Thank you to every one who takes the time to read my post.
Hello, guys. Paradox here. I came here to share a little background story about myself, and open up about something I usually keep to myself. I know mental health is a serious issue, so I will try my best not to offend anyone going through a crisis. So here goes nothing...
I'm a schizophrenic. But before people start jumping to conclusions, let me tell you how it affects me. I see things. I hear voices. I'm not very good at remembering to do certain things. But I make up for this by keeping a check list. I'm not a very organized person, which is why I keep checklists and timers on me. I have an unnatural fear for crowds of people, and prefer to isolate myself with one or two other people. But even then I enjoy to be alone in general. I become irrationally paranoid over the smallest things. I'm also a very anxious person. I like things done a certain way. And when I get in a situation where things go wrong, my panic quickly turns into anger. I tend to think that my thoughts are not my own. I'm also going through depression. Which comes from years and years of verbal abuse. By now, people are probably wondering if I take medication for this. I do. I'm taking 300mg of fluphenazine and risperidone, I take it once a day because the doses are pretty high.
Now time to get to the meat of this post. What it was like for me growing up with this mental illness. I was raised in a very VERY toxic environment. I was born in Arizona but when I was just a few years old my mother moved us to Detroit after her and my father had a nasty break-up. My mother fell into a repressive state because of the break up, and got into drugs and hanging out with men that didn't treat her well. Because of this, I always left to my own devices. So much to the point that I was forced to turn to the streets just to defend for myself. My mental illness manifested itself when I was eight years old. A kid had stolen a candy bar out of my lunch box and I bashed his head against the foundation of a monkey bars set. I told them that a voice in my head told me to do it. This concerned the teachers and I was sent to a mental hospital for a psychiatric evaluation. I was diagnosed with schizophrenia and what did my mother write this off as? Being crazy. A term you should never casually hurl at a person with a mental illness. This started the years of verbal abuse. My mom called me crazy countless times, told me I should be in a straight jacket, told me I was just a piece of shit like my father, etc. I eventually started to believe these things because of what I was going through. Whenever I would tell her I was seeing things and that I was scared because I kept hearing voices, she told me to just ignore it, and refused to get me the proper treatment. This didn't translate well into my school life. I was getting into fights, my grades were slipping, and I was hanging out with the wrong people. I was bullied day in and day out by my peers for not being normal and not having the best and most trendy clothes. This all lasted until my sophomore year in high school. I fell into depression, and eventually suicide was on my mind. I wrote a suicide note but because I needed someone to help me, I turned to the school counselor. She got me put into another mental hospital where I was put back on my medicine. This got into a huge mess with the CPS because of the conditions I was raised in. They separated me from my mother for neglect because she knew I had this mental illness and refused to do anything about it because she was more concerned with her drugs. My grandfather got custody of me and I moved back to Arizona to live with him and my uncle. I met my dad for the first time since I was eleven. He apologized a lot for not taking me out of that situation, explaining that when he and my mother fell out, he was left stranded in Arizona. Which put things into perspective for me.
So long story short, I was put on my medication that I needed and I was put in a better environment. My father was finally able to show me what being a man is when I started going out and doing gigs with him. I met my other family and found I had more in common with them that I did with my mother's side of the family. What's the point of all this? Well, it's to give you guys a better understanding of what kind of circumstances I came from, and what circumstances I'm in today. Looking back, I realized I should've reached out for help, but I had it put in my mind that no one cared, so I stayed silent on my problems.Now that I'm a young adult now, I realize how serious of a problem this is. So I do everything in my power to try and deal with my mental illness. Taking my prescribed medication, checking in with the college psychologist once a week(such a nice and humble woman), and keeping myself occupied with things I like such as role-play. As my grandfather always told me, "An idle mind is the devil's playground".
Sigh... sorry for such a long post guys. I just felt like I needed to share this with you guys. You all seem very supportive here so I figured I would share my story with you guys. Thank you to every one who takes the time to read my post.
This is a great post. Thanks for taking the time to explain this. I have some mental health issues, although not that particular one, however I've read a bit about it.
(((Hugs))) for all the stuff that happened, and I'm so glad a better environment was found later!
Hey. First of all, thank you for sharing this with us. I know all of us are honored that you are willing to talk, and we are more than willing to listen. While I have not had the same experiences you have had, I have schizophrenia as well, so I understand a little bit of it. And I know that talking about it can be scary. So again, thank you. I'm glad to hear that you've found something you enjoy to keep you occupied!
Once again: thank you so much for your bravery and truthfulness. The RpR family will always be here to listen!
Once again: thank you so much for your bravery and truthfulness. The RpR family will always be here to listen!
This was extremely brave of you to open up like this. I suffer from depression. I got PTSD from my horrible first marriage and husband. You'll find a lot of caring understanding freinds on RPR.
Very comforting to hear another person's experiences, no matter how grim. If you'd ever like to go deeper, or at the very least have an active conversation on this, I'd love to share my experiences with schizophrenia. Like Sultry said, very brave of you to open up like that, and you've given, at least for one person, something to think on and acknowledge. Even if it doesn't feel like it, we're only growing!
Like Sultry said, very brave of you to open up like that, and you've given, at least for one person, something to think on and acknowledge. Even if it doesn't feel like it, we're only growing!
First of all, I want to say THANK YOU for opening yourself up and feeling confident and brave enough to share such a deep part of yourself and what you have gone through. Your experiences are grim, and it takes a great deal of courage for anyone to open up about their history in this way, and while I do not know you, I am proud for you. It was amazing to see someone so openly express their past and experiences and feelings, and I commend you for doing this. Bravo, chap. You did awesome.
Second of all, please don't apologize for your post in any way! It took courage and guts to dig in and let people understand something so personal and allow others to hear your vulnerabilities. The length at which it took to explain is nothing to be apologizing about.
I myself only have social anxiety, depression, and ADHD. So, I cannot relate to what you have gone through with Schizophrenia. It truly sounds terrifying to have to experience, and your bravery in continuing to battle against it everyday is inspiring and wonderful to see.
I can relate to being called crazy, being mentally abused by a parent that is supposed to nurture you and take care of you through something as difficult as a mental illness. It's a terrible experience and it really does shape our feelings towards ourselves and others in a very negative way. However, I think it's awesome that you're adamant about seeking professional help for this issue and sticking up for yourself. I'm glad that you have the resources to obtain some help and are doing everything in YOUR power to do what is right for you. That's really, really amazing.
About not reaching out soon enough? I don't think you should discredit yourself on reaching out for help when you did. You took a serious beating on your mental health with the situation you went through, so the struggle you had to make to get the help you needed was a hard one. It doesn't matter when you finally reach out, it matters most that you do it and you stick to it to help yourself. No one is a better advocate for yourself than you.
Thank you again for sharing this with everyone. Your bravery and courage is extremely commendable.
Second of all, please don't apologize for your post in any way! It took courage and guts to dig in and let people understand something so personal and allow others to hear your vulnerabilities. The length at which it took to explain is nothing to be apologizing about.
I myself only have social anxiety, depression, and ADHD. So, I cannot relate to what you have gone through with Schizophrenia. It truly sounds terrifying to have to experience, and your bravery in continuing to battle against it everyday is inspiring and wonderful to see.
I can relate to being called crazy, being mentally abused by a parent that is supposed to nurture you and take care of you through something as difficult as a mental illness. It's a terrible experience and it really does shape our feelings towards ourselves and others in a very negative way. However, I think it's awesome that you're adamant about seeking professional help for this issue and sticking up for yourself. I'm glad that you have the resources to obtain some help and are doing everything in YOUR power to do what is right for you. That's really, really amazing.
About not reaching out soon enough? I don't think you should discredit yourself on reaching out for help when you did. You took a serious beating on your mental health with the situation you went through, so the struggle you had to make to get the help you needed was a hard one. It doesn't matter when you finally reach out, it matters most that you do it and you stick to it to help yourself. No one is a better advocate for yourself than you.
Thank you again for sharing this with everyone. Your bravery and courage is extremely commendable.
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