When you're down the hardest thing in the world to do is smile. I developed schizophrenia when I was 35 in 1997 and was delusional for seven months. During these months I started believing that I was trapped inside a computer "loop" that had me relive a two-year period over and over. I saw horrible, ugly visions as well as wonderful visions of beauty. In one of my visions Jesus Christ cried for me, but for the most part, it was ugly. I believed near the end of my seven months of insanity that after I had done my time in the computer I would be allowed to go to heaven.
The torment and horror of being ill was bad, but not as bad as the feeling that comes when realizing it was all just a dream and the real reality sets in. The reality is that you're just schizophrenic, you're broke, and you've had your life interrupted and broken. At first, just knowing that I was all alone was the hardest thing to accept. When I was delusional, the whole world knew who I was and was grateful for me helping to save them. After a while I stopped dwelling on that and started dwelling on what had really happened to me. I lost my career, my girlfriend of four years, my possessions, and my self-esteem.
I gained 80 pounds from medication during the first year of regaining sanity. I wrote a book to fight my feelings of hopelessness. It documented the mental journey I went through while I was ill. I tried to get it published a couple of times, but after it was rejected, I gave up trying and I gave up hope. I tried going back to work five times and failed miserably each time. The fourth time I failed to work because I had my first and strongest panic attack.
Not yet understanding what was happening to me, I became suicidal because of my fears of having to live with anxiety for the rest of my life. I overdosed on pills and after a few hours, the pain in my chest was too great. I called 911. I tried to work one more time a year later. Failed again, and spent my last savings on a pistol. Something kept me from pulling the trigger: my faith. It would not let me forget that someone still cared: God. I put the gun away and moved out of the big city and back into a small town where I get my treatment and medications for free.
I called my family and told them I needed help. This is where my story differs from others. For those who do not have family, I encourage you to seek out support groups for schizophrenia to make friends. I began spending half of every week with my family and it helped immensely. For about another year I still felt like there was no purpose in my life, so I began to search for that purpose. Between my mother and my sister's family, I began taking responsibility for their pets and animals. Not necessarily a large purpose yet, but one anyways.
I began making myself exercise daily even though my meds fought me for every pound. I took up playing instruments again. I took up cooking for my family from my favorite cookbook. I started contacting everyone else in my family as far down as distant cousins and grandparents. I started living again. I now take Abilify and my energy level is what it used to be. I have hope for the future and I am here to tell you that there is hope for you too even though it may not be clear or apparent. You have to fight for hope. You're not going to make it just by lying down and waiting for it. You have to decide to make a change even if only a small change. You just have to try. You don't even have to try a lot, just a little. I think you'll find that the more days you go to bed at night knowing you tried just a little will make you want to try just a little bit harder the next day. It is not easy and it may not seem fair, but it is something you have to do to live. You cannot live without hope. When you're down the hardest thing in the world to do is smile. If you have hope, it's not hard at all.