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Once upon a time, I had severe symptoms from my illness, schizoaffective disorder, that would not stop even when taking the most effective of medications. I tried all the anti-psychotics, mood stabilizers, and anti-depressants at high doses, low doses-you name it. My primary symptoms were serious delusions of not many conspiracies, but one BIG one that everyone was in on, from the stranger on the street to my parents and best friends.

The television and radio would send me messages that I should exercise, stop smoking, and go back to work. I also had relentless depression involving incessant crying spells and a constant death wish. Not regular, relieving crying, but the kind of crying that hurts your stomach and eyes because you can't stop no matter how hard you try. The kind of crying that makes you feel like your body is possessed by some energy that drains your mind and spirit and stings in your muscles. Nothing would help. Movies and television were obvious problems, as was music, reading, writing, breathing, and thinking. No one could say or suggest anything that would bring relief. It was the kind of hell on Earth I would not wish on anyone.

At the time, I was living with my mother after spending over ten years away from her. At first, she attempted sympathy, but after a while she grew weary and suggested my tears were an attempt at manipulating her. With this in mind, it is no wonder I felt so bad. I also avoided romantic relationships for over two years.

Before I became ill, I was quite popular with the opposite sex, but my confidence plummeted when my symptoms arrived, as my trust issues skyrocketed. I was afraid of any physical contact and getting close to anyone, mainly because they were "all in on it."

I was very lonely. I had made friends who understood and accepted my illness, but it was not enough. Then one day I met my boyfriend. Actually, met is not quite the right term. We had been friends for nearly three years, though not very close. We began spending more time together and finally decided to enter a relationship.

It was hard for me at the time, as I still had serious trust issues, but somehow I was able to push them aside. He just made me feel so comfortable and showed me he understood and cared. I tried for the longest time not to cry in front of him, but to no avail. Tears invaded my soul as they had so many times before, but it was suddenly different. When I cried around my boyfriend, he refrained from offering useless suggestions, and simply listened to me without judgment and held me until it went away.

It took time, but the crying spells began to get shorter and shorter, and finally became nearly extinct. Now I cry less than before I became ill. My delusions also became minimal. I can now watch many movies and television shows, and I have resumed listening to my CD collection. I have even begun job hunting in the hope that my symptoms will no longer be triggered in the workplace, as I am interviewing twice a week on average. This is after being with my boyfriend about nine months, and moving in with him.

Of course, a big reason my boyfriend understood me so well is because we had been going to the same support group for the duration of our friendship, and thus we were aware of each other's problems and soft spots. He is also schizoaffective, though his symptoms are completely different than mine. He has also experienced significant improvements since we have been together. He is now pursuing a career in real estate after spending several years doing restaurant delivery and always wanting more.

A major symptom my boyfriend has is that he feels a distance from others, nearing on dissociation. This has also improved, as he can connect with his environment much more easily now. Ironically, I think we both feel our relationship is largely smooth sailing, without most of the conflicts either of us have experienced in the past in other relationships. Thus, we are living proof that people with mental illnesses can have successful long term relationships.

One friend told me that I was an inspiration to her and gave her hope that she, too, may find a happy relationship someday despite her schizophrenia. I'm sure she will. The moral of the story is that relationships can be very cathartic for mental health consumers.

Thus, despite their illnesses, they lived happily ever after….