Dear Schizoaffective disorder,
We’ve know each other for such a long time, yet it seems like yesterday when you came and set up camp. I was 15 (and honestly, I’m pretty sure you were behind something the previous year… but I digress…). I was terrified. Suddenly seeing a boy being hung from a tree and everything in my brain convincing me that I should die became “normal.”
We fought a lot. I had my facade, and you had yours… just showing enough that I wouldn’t get exactly the right help I needed, and convincing me that I should never tell anyone about any of the psychosis. And when I did when I was 17, you put me in agony. And you brought your mania with you. Luckily, I had quite a few people fighting for me, and that’s why I’ve never lost hope.
Life continued with you… letting me have a semi-normal life. That is, until I told people about ALL of you. You hated it then, so you made me suffer worse each and every time. So I once again had to bottle that part of you up. DO NOT TELL ANYONE. Your entirety was still with me every day, though. I was still paranoid, I still heard things (when I was being “good” you dulled yourself to a slight roar), and you eventually brought a huge suitcase full of anxiety as a threat because you needed back-up if I started to be “bad” and you would unleash a form of anxiety that almost completely crippled me.
I was even careful when I met new friends. You allowed me to let them know all about my mood disorder, and I was scared to death that I would do something that wasn’t “good” and you would assault me again and bring forth another form of anxiety that you would drop in my lap. So, everyone knew I was bipolar. That’s it. I took a chance and told one (only one then) of my friends about you’re entirety. I was ready for your worst, but apparently the meds I was given controlled you a bit.
I made it until summer of 2012. That’s when I got a new psychiatrist and a new therapist. Both asked me about psychosis. I felt you getting restless, so I was quite hesitant to share that yes, I did experience psychosis. And yes, I still experienced it when I was having a stable mood. Finally, you were so exposed that there was a whole other name given to you.
Now, I know before this, there were times (mostly to doctors) where I would let the cat out of the bag, and suffered. Things and times I’m not talking to you about because it would remind you of the mental torture you put me through. And when 2012, when you were “officially” there, you. were. pissed.
I lost my job
I lost my car
I lost some friends
And I thought I was losing my soul… or that you were going to take it by force when I wasn’t watching. Oh, and of course, this is what brought me to the psych ward for the second time. I know.. you were responsible for all of them, but the second time was so bad, that I’m sometimes terrified of bringing it up. Thanks to the right medication I felt as though I (finally) could start to live my life again… only when I stepped out to do just that, my world was decimated. And I remembered that that was your intent. You wanted nothing good for me.
I’m slowly starting to re-build. To tell people what had really been going on. To break away from your chains. I finally put the straight jacket on you that you deserve.
I still can’t work. I’ve tried. I get terrified, and that lets a little tendril of you out to mess with my mind. I couldn’t even keep a job where I only worked 8 hours a week, at most. You still make me embarrassed that I need help. You still warp my mind to places where I constantly ask who is really my friend. That gets so bad sometimes that I often stay silent and avoid things. And you still gifted me with so many forms of anxiety that I can’t differentiate which one is causing what.
I’m done with you. At this point the medication I’m on incapacitates you. It only lets out white noise, music, and sometimes makes me see something, but you now forget… I’M IN CONTROL. I can now realize what is or isn’t real. Still trying to figure out the whole anxiety thing, but that’s much better as well.
Now… I’m watching you die…