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I remember the day when I took relationships for granted. I thought there would always be suitable men around, my challenge was to find the right one for me. My friends were supportive, all involved in my pursuit of happiness, in an advisory capacity, or commiserating in their own search. I thought one day the search would be over. I would get married, have two children, and live happily ever after.

I had some wonderful relationships, and in hindsight, I let some great catches slip through my fingers. I had always been attractive to the opposite sex, and never thought I would have trouble finding a man.

At 30, I started to become paranoid. At 33 they put me on medication, Risperdal. It took away the paranoia, but made me gain weight, become very tired, and incontinent. It took me a while to adjust to the new weight and get my confidence back as a woman in that chubby size, but eventually I did it. I started dating.

I remember going to meet one date and actually making in my pants on the subway, I was humiliated, but I had no way of contacting him to cancel, so I went on the date. I said my soda had fallen in my lap on the train, and he believed me, or at least went along. I complained to my doctor, that though the medication was helping the paranoia, it was destroying my quality of life.

Believing that my illness was due to posttraumatic stress, my doctor eventually took me off the Risperdal, and gave me a nerve relaxer instead. Eventually I found myself in a serious, or semi serious relationship. I say semi-serious, because I did not tell him about the paranoia. I just said I had a nervous condition, and for this reason I had to take medication.

He was a nice guy, but we had our differences. Eventually the differences grew so great that I had to break it off. Six months later, at the age of 35, I started hearing voices in my head. I had a suicide attempt. This time they put me on Zyprexa, and I gained even more weight.

I was also notified that I should not consider having children, as it could be more stressful than I am capable of handling, and it would require me going off my medication, which is no longer an option. I have schizophrenia. My parents, who loved and supported me my whole life, would never be grandparents. I had always thought I would make a great mother. I don't think I will ever recover.

If stress of work had traumatized me in the past, this was clearly a breaking point. My life dreams, the vision I had taken for granted was no longer possible. Men no longer look at me like they used to. I feel invisible. Not only am I not comfortable in my own skin, in this new bigger size, but I now have a severe disability. Even in those rare moments, when a man does notice, and this is very important, I don't like what they see. I am now 37, and on Risperdal again, on a lower dosage, so that I am not incontinent. I have lost some of the weight I put on with Zyprexa, but not all. I am meeting men who are also mentally ill, some are fully functioning, many are not.

My confidence is shot, and the old dreams are dead, but I am holding on to a glimmer of hope, that maybe I will be able to find a life companion.

In some ways I consider myself one of the lucky ones. The medication works, and so my personality is intact, (for the most part). Most people say they would not know to meet me that I am schizophrenic, or have any mental illness at all. For me, everyday that I look at myself in the mirror, at this bigger size, I see a schizophrenic looking back, not me. Perhaps if I was thinner, I would not feel it as much, but since the weight came directly with the illness, I associate the two as intertwined.

I have complained to the few friends who have stuck with me through the illness that the weight is harder than the illness. For my schizophrenia I just take a pill and the symptoms are gone. There is no pill to lose weight and gain confidence.

I am afraid I will die a large, lonely spinster. To avoid that, I socialize within the mental health community, and make as many friends as I can. I am benefiting from meeting many people in relationships, of all sizes and illnesses. I recognize that I am letting my own vanity get in the way of my potential happiness, but for now, this is the best I can do.