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Depression

I Can’t Handle It Anymore

I Can’t Handle It Anymore

I am not doing well again, and this is my best effort to put it all to words. I have been struggling with school assignments, I am feeling depressed again, and feel a lot of chronic pain. The saddening began after finishing my big watch project. I was yet to present my watch design to the company board, and tried to prepare the best I could. I could barely keep myself without shaking and crying and when it was time to present I could not properly follow my planned outline. I couldn’t stop stuttering and looking at the floor. I was stopped and called out by my low volume by the CEO, something I was warned would happen. At some point we crossed gazes and he immediately scoffed loudly, looking away and shaking his head. I couldn’t look at the rest of the room, but I knew I was letting people down. Other classmates had amazing designs too, yet somehow I was picked. After it was done, I felt relieved, but also overwhelmed by the many assignments I had neglected from focusing too much on one subject. Honestly, I barely tried getting those assignments done in the end, I was so exhausted and uninspired that I couldn’t do it. I decided to take the L and fail two classes… During winter break I attended a wedding, and decided to wear eye makeup, which I hadn’t in months. The mascara was quite old by that point, and I don’t know if it was contaminated, or maybe I crimped my eyelashes with a bit of the eyelid, but I began developing a large lump on my eyelid. Everything is blurry out of that eye; reading what’s on my phone is impossible until I hold it 10 cm away from my face. This makes sketching really difficult. It’s been there since, and my vision has not improved. Returning to school, I was surprised the two classes had not been failed yet, they were marked incomplete, and one of them I must complete in order to be registered for a new class this semester. I spent most of January working on those assignments, the interior design of a car. During this time however, I should have been working on my new classes, designing an impact wrench, as well as the exterior of the previously mentioned car, in addition to other assignments for general requirement classes. When I was done with the car interior, I moved on to the impact wrench. But I was not feeling inspired to draw anything. I was having some ideas on how to move buttons around, and how to improve user experience with the whole air compressor system, but in terms of how to make the tool look “good”, I was drawing a blank. This terrifies me, I’m supposed to be a designer. I can think of solutions to user problems, but thinking about how a modern power tool should look, it would simply not happen. Days went by without any ideas until presentation day. With nothing, I didn’t present, but I kept working on it. There’s some ideas emerging, but when I try sketching them, I just can’t seem to do it well enough. I’m also supposed to have superb sketching skills, but right now I just can’t. Assignments are piling up again, with the next impact wrench presentation coming next week, as well as physical models, a poster, and multiple speeches. I also need to finish my portfolio, one of those two classes I neglected. I have several projects I can show, but I feel like they all need improvement, there’s just no time, and with everything else going on, I feel too discouraged to work on that. I need to though. I need an internship and they are all hiring right now. I feel so scared about a job, I’ve honestly never done anything like that before, and when I can’t even greet people without feeling extremely anxious, or give a very important presentation, or walk around in public without feeling paranoid, how can I think about being in an interview. The job outlook for industrial design is also terrible. I can’t stop hearing from other classmates and professionals online that they just can’t find a job, or even interviews. Frankly, it’s making me scared about the future, I wonder if I’ll be safe and have access to healthcare. The instruction at school is not what it once was. With the program shut down, teachers are leaving since they have no one else to teach. We are left with the program director, who always pushes us to do our best, but sometimes leaves things to be desired. He has been understanding though, and has allowed me extra time to complete the missing assignments. He can be very vague when talking to me, while he spends a lot of time talking to other students. At some point he was looking at images of futuristic car designs and was amazed by some, which were AI, while a real sketch made him say “this one is not quite there.” At least one classmate used AI for the previous air wrench class, and while the idea is interesting, a wearable harness containing the hose for the tool, the images generated, delivered as final design, are just stupid. It could not be manufactured, it has pointless lines and cables; I can’t imagine how it was allowed. And so, should I just write whatever and use a generated image to just get the assignment over with? Well, of course fucking not, but, the barrier I’m hitting right now, the look of the tool, not the ergonomics, or user interaction elements, just the aesthetic part; that is something that a single prompt can solve, and then what am I good for? It is not right to think this way, but I can’t help it. All the garbage being produced with generative AI, all the aggressive marketing and implementation, lots and lots of money put into hardware for data centers, price hikes for consumers, information poisoning, intellectual property scrapping, all for what? This is only destroying our minds, the environment, the economy. I am sick of this obsession with an unregulated technology that keeps messing with how we live. Trans rights keep being eradicated in many places. It is genuinely dangerous, even illegal, to exist as a trans person in some parts of the US. I may follow bills and laws too closely, perhaps not the best for my mental health, but I want to make sure that I can keep me and others safe. I have started crying randomly again, and flashes of self harm flood my mind constantly. I don’t want to lose hope. This post is all over the place, but I’m beginning to feel like breaking again, and instead of sleeping, I tried to finally pen down some reasons why. I wish I didn’t feel this way.

Feeling Better

Feeling Better

School is finally over again! This semester has been very interesting. I remember struggling a lot at the beginning. I remember going for days without doing homework, and those horrible suicidal thoughts just made everything worse. As the semester progressed and I began work on my keyboard, I got increasingly absorbed into my work. I began feeling better and worked like crazy on concepts, Solidworks models, and renders. I enjoyed it so much. For my Adobe class, I designed a security camera, which I made into a little monitor, like a baby monitor, but for adults. It is colored a vintage blue and yellow. It has a little cute antenna and a push-to-talk button. Doing the Solidworks model was interesting. I really like blobjects and rounded forms. The camera is a little rectangle, but every face should have curvature. It just looks great. Just yesterday, I was looking at my Apple USB-C cable and comparing it to a very similar one that came with a MagSafe base. The Apple cable is completely continuous, even though the plug looks like an extruded slot. The expected planar horizontal faces are actually curved. That makes for a great look with smooth and continuous reflections and highlights. In contrast, the other cable is just a slot, two arcs connected by two horizontal lines. If you put it up to the light, you can see the reflections break where the arcs end and the lines begin. I thought that was very interesting. I’ll remember to use that in my designs. Anyway, I’m now realizing I didn’t use any Adobe software for this one, lol. Another project was to design our own watch since next semester we’re going to work with an actual watch company. I have my own brand already, my own logo, so that was easy. I made a minimalistic design, which is my jam. Everyone posted their moodboards and sketches on a collaborative board, and it was interesting seeing everyone’s different styles. Some preferred very involved designs, others went for fancy. I think I was the only one who picked other minimalist watches for inspiration, like Mondaine; ever since I went to Switzerland, I’ve been obsessed with the SBB clock and its signature movement. The design restriction was that the watch needed three complications: 24-hour, day, and date. Many just ignored the requirement, but I didn’t and got full marks! There was one class where I was falling behind, History of Product Design. Every week I was supposed to read the assigned readings and write a summary, find a quote, and find an object related to the reading. Since I was struggling so much at the beginning, I didn’t do many of the first readings; the habit stuck, and I didn’t do any work for the semester. At least I wasn’t the only one, and the professor was kind enough to open all the assignments until the end of the semester. Once I was done with the keyboard, I quickly submitted all the readings. I was not able to attend Hillel events for most of the semester because all events happened during my classes, although there were some that I could have attended, but I decided not to. Eventually, I went to the screening of the Prince of Egypt during Pesach and made matzah pizza. I attended talks about proper criticism of Israel and the connection to the land. For this last one, the coordinator laid out cards which pictured a connection to Judaism and the Land of Israel. I picked the one that had a person in front of a mirror. The person seemed sad, empty, but in the mirror, they were happy and had a Magen David on their heart. It immediately spoke to me. I know I am meant to be Jewish. I just haven’t gotten there yet. And when I feel bad for having my conversion on hold, I just tell myself in the mirror, “I’ve found my people. One day I’ll be completely Jewish, and I’ll be very happy.” The person sitting next to me had been to other Hillel events, but I had never talked to him. He picked a card with a family celebrating Chanukah and Christmas; he is a convert too! He told me, “You won’t regret it.” And then the event ended. I went to Finley to work on my keyboard renders, but I was distracted by a clear view of the New York skyline. I walked closer to take a photo and resumed my walk. I wanted to get something to drink from the vending machine first. After getting my drink, I was ready to get going, when someone stopped me. It was the same person from the Hillel event; earlier, he offered me Hamantaschen, but I was very full. He stood behind me holding up his cup of Hamantaschen. I laughed awkwardly and took two from him, then continued on my way. But before getting far, I decided to turn around and talk to him. It was a good conversation. He invited me to go to his synagogue one time and offered to introduce me to the Rabbi. I told him that I have not been satisfied with the observance of the Reform movement, and since he’s conservative, he told me that might be a good fit for me. I have been considering just that for months. I told him I was trans, and he reacted very surprised. He said he couldn’t tell; that was very nice to hear. It made me happy. So he said, Orthodox is definitely off the table, no objection there, and I want something deeper than Reform. So, conservative it is. Pesach was just next week, and we decided it would be too much for my introduction. We’ll see how this goes. I have not gone to the temple in about a year. I feel sad about that and feel like an imposter when I wear my Magen David since I’m not Jewish and I’m not actively converting. I know I’ll get there. Hopefully, now that I feel better, I’ll be able to move forward with that. And that’s been pretty much it. I’m finishing writing this post from Mexico; we’re on a trip with my grandma and aunt, and I’m exhausted because I woke up at 4 a.m., took a delayed 5-hour flight, then rushed to get from one terminal to the other and took another delayed one-hour flight. We managed to get dinner but couldn’t do much else for the day. So I’m happy to say that I feel better. It’s been rough, but I’ve found solace in my work. I create amazing things, which in turn motivates me to keep going. I know one day all this hard work will pay off, and I’ll be doing something I really enjoy, no matter how tedious it is, designing.

Emotional Abuse

Emotional Abuse

This one has been in the back of my mind for a while, I want to recollect these terrible moments I guess, just to let it out. As I write this post, I can hear my mom saying “stop blaming me for your problems.” That is not my intention at all here, I just want to share my stories, as I do in this blog. During my last mini depressive episode, I was talking to the wall about maybe telling my mom about my growing suicidal thoughts; she’s really all I have and I would like her help through this. Immediately though, I am reminded of the time we went for a walk and I told her I didn’t want to live anymore. Her simple response was, “do it.” Perhaps she thought I was not capable of ending my life, but that response made it clear that I was on my own and that the closest person to me wouldn’t care if I died. As I decided I’m never bringing up the topic with my mom again I get another flash. We went to the beach in Mexico with my aunt and cousin, I must have been 14 at the time. My mom and I got into one of our classic arguments, sparked by some of the most ridiculous shit that half the time we don’t remember what even started it. This time with just the two of us in the room, I decided to drink an entire water bottle without letting go of it once—yea, I don’t know why. I was almost done, the bottle all crumpled up under the pressure, when my mom started talking to me. I signal to her to hold up a little with humming-like noises. She disliked the noises and we begin shouting. Some time later something came over me, I began slamming a coffee mug on my head as my aunt bursts into the room to stop the fight. She restrained me, very tightly, while my mom opened up the curtains, opened the door to the balcony and shouts at me something along the lines of: Want something more effective? Jump off from here! My aunt took me down to the pool with my cousin. As a child, my mom got mad at me, went grab some scissors and came to my room where I was on my bed, coiled up against the wall, hugging my favorite plush toy, a bee. She climbed on the bed, took the bee from me and proceeded to cut it up. She got it fixed weeks later. Writing this one made me cry, I guess that’s what I want, to let it all out. During arguments she would threaten to give me up to foster care, or orphanage, or military school, or mental asylum, or my dad when he was still alive. She would grab the phone and call, or pretend to. Many times she would pack some of my clothes, taking me as far as the main entrance of our building. One time she had my dad come all the way to our house only to turn him away, he lived really far. On several occasions she called the police, twice they came, but never up to our apartment, I remember the sirens. Then there’s the countless insults; you are stupid, you are an idiot, you are retarded. She was specially mean after my autism diagnosis, again, calling me retarded and stupid when I wore my earplugs and glasses. She came into my room one time to tell me I looked stupid with my autism pride t-shirt, however I decided to cover my ears and scream at the top of my lungs to avoid hearing her, it worked though I was called crazy. As a child I would go to her room to show her whatever I was playing with; when she was watching tv, she would sigh in disgust and turn up the volume really loud. She would do the same with earphones, blasting the volume and ignoring me altogether. She would ignore me for hours after a conflict, completely refusing to acknowledge me or anything I said, even if it was important. When I was in kindergarten I forgot my coat at home, my mom refused to let me go get it and proceeded to blast the coldest air in the car for a while. One time she took me to a mental hospital instead of taking me to school without telling me. She tried doing the same she did to my bee plush to my Kizuna AI plush but I quickly ran to her room and grabbed her dog plush threatening to do the same. And there was also physical abuse, or parenting as I knew it. Spanking, by hand or with the thickest belt ever—she would tell me the metal end would work better,—slapping. At a certain age I began covering myself, which was interpreted as me hitting back, though I did sometimes. During an argument she started spraying air freshener at me. Then she grabbed the nearby can or Raid and sprayed that on me too. One day I wanted to do some changes to the settings on our security cameras but I needed to restart the WiFi router, despite not doing anything important, my mom told me I shouldn’t do it. I tried arguing my case but she got fed up with me quickly and things got out of control. My mom scratched my right hand because I was blocking her way—I know I was wrong, I was telling her I wanted to have a peaceful conversation but she kept ignoring me; walking away was never our best quality—a lot of blood was coming out. I got really mad and started shouting really loudly so everyone would know what she did. My mom told me I should call police on her and later she began hitting herself on the temples repeatedly, saying “I’m so stupid, I’m so stupid…” I developed a scar that looks like a cat scratch. We’re both fucked, I don’t know what else to say. I know I didn’t make things easy, but regardless, some behaviors are just not okay to do, no matter what the child has done. I regret not walking away when I should have, and I regret being pushy at times, I know that just made everything worse. After my psychosis, when I was getting assessed at the hospital, the doctor was impressed by my experiences, he asked if I considered it emotional abuse. I responded that I didn’t, in my mind I was thinking that it just was the kind of parenting that I got. Needless to say, I don’t think that way anymore. All this certainly shaped the way I live today. I mean, when my mom gets mad at the cat, when I hear that tone in her voice, I get scared, as if she is mad at me. Same thing when she stomps the ground dramatically, it’s so triggering. And yet, I don’t know what I would do without her. She gives me everything I could ever want. We have a great place, we never worry about food, she brought me over to live in the US, she pays my college tuition, she accepted me as trans and pays for my HRT, etc. But a hug, an “I love you,” they are almost nonexistent. If only that could change. I often think I should start doing it myself, but it would take so much out of me, and I have never done it before, and I think my mom is stuck in the same situation. I don’t know what to do.

Calm?

Calm?

It's been two weeks since my antipsychotic dose was increased, and, I feel good. Everything is quieter, the voices have disappeared, it is so relieving. My mood has stabilized, and I feel happy most of the time, though I still have ups and downs. School started again, it’s looking exciting but it will be a lot of work. I’m doing good so far, I’m going to design an assistive keyboard for autism for one class—I have so many ideas. I’m calm and happy most of the time, however, there are times when I feel terribly sad. It mostly comes out of nowhere, or actually, I have noticed it happens after some kind of inconvenience such as getting stuck doing schoolwork or cracking my screen protector. Suddenly, I begin feeling sad to the point of crying for no reason. Intrusive thoughts flood my mind, they are about my future or past actions. Then, after more crying, suicidal thoughts begin. I have noticed that my suicidal thoughts are becoming stronger, I mean, it’s getting harder to resist them. I have asked to die, I have held a knife up to my neck; but something still prevents me from doing it. I really don’t want to die; on good days when I feel happy, I feel so grateful I didn’t give in and didn’t die. Something dumb happened to me at school. I arrived at the parking lot just as the bus was leaving. I was late so I decided to run to the next stop to catch it. I began running uphill and when I was crossing the street, still running, I suddenly fainted. It felt like my usual fainting after standing, but this time I was in motion, and I couldn’t feel it coming, otherwise I would have stopped running. I face-planted on the pavement and scraped my hands and chin. I did catch the bus tho. I arrived late to class and after a while, I decided to check my laptop; its corner broke. I know I cannot run uphill because of my fainting, which might be POTS, but I couldn’t feel any signs I was about to faint, it was only when I was already falling that my vision blacked out. I’ve been feeling extremely tired during the day because of my new dose. It’s impossible to wake up, I end up doing it three hours after my alarm goes off. One day I arrived home past my meds time and I had a thought, I wouldn’t take my meds to see if I would have more energy the next day. And I did, I woke up at 7 and was very productive for the day which in turn made me happy. Around my second week, I received an email saying that TEDx is coming to my school. Doing a TED talk has been a lifelong dream of mine so I began thinking about applying. I hesitated for a week, but finally, I decided what I was going to talk about, my mental health journey. I want to tell people that they shouldn’t sacrifice their wellbeing for schoolwork. Update Mar 11 It had been two perfect, happy weeks. I dreaded the moment I would feel sad again; it happened. As usual, suicidal thoughts are stronger than before, I would even say stronger than before the hospital; but those weren’t suicidal thoughts, it was the voices telling me to hurt myself. I do not see the point in life, I do not know why I would want to drag on the pain. I know I should ignore these thoughts and wait until it all passes. I try to remember when I’m happy, how thankful I feel I didn’t give in to those thoughts. Yet, during these moments the only way out I see is death. Update Mar 12 Sigh… That was one of the worst episodes yet. I feel better today, I woke up at 12 and went to the store, and later went for a 10 kilometer walk, yeah, I had a lot of energy. I still don’t know what the point of life is, but I know that if I keep doing nothing other than crying all day, discovering my purpose is only going to be harder. Update Mar 17 So, once again my hope is gone. I was planning to work very hard today, I have to present five concepts tomorrow of my keyboard, I have nothing. During the first phase of our project I was feeling terrible, so I didn’t sketch much and thus, I don’t have anything to work with for the second phase. I also wasted last week because of feeling depressed. Well, I couldn’t do anything today. I began feeling suicidal and very fatigued so I went to lie down. The whole morning went by. I went to the kitchen and grabbed the hot sauce, I poured it on my hand and licked it. I kept doing it until my mouth went numb and I felt very dizzy. I did it again at night. I’ve been toying with my knife on my skin. I don’t want to go to the hospital again, the suicide hotline is crap, my mom is mad at me because I didn’t go to the supermarket this morning and won’t talk to me. I feel lonely, tomorrow is going to be terrible. I want to die. I don’t want to. I just want this to stop, I don’t want to be depressed, I want my life and motivation back. Not just in little glimpses, fully back. I want to do things, Hashem has a plan for me or I wouldn’t have woken up today, I want to find out what that plan is. How can I do this by myself? Mar 18 I decided to still attend class, everyone’s projects are amazing, I think they all met during the weekend while I knew nothing. .I didn’t eat this morning and I feel terrible. Someone left a box of thumbtacks where I sit and I cannot avoid pricking my fingers with them. The thought that I don’t belong here keeps getting stronger, no matter how good I am at many of the things we do. If not product design, what else am I good for? I don’t know what will happen if I go talk to a counselor here at school. I think I’m gonna leave and go eat something. I’ll return for my second class today. I don’t even know where to go without feeling paranoid. Maybe go read Torah in the library, hopefully that will make me feel better. I don’t want to die but these thoughts are so strong. There was a fire alarm the moment I arrived at the library. As I go down the stairs I think I should just stay. I feel lonely, I cannot see a way forward, I cannot see my life ever improving; this is not me, I’m usually very optimistic. I want the pain to end.

Voices

Voices

This is my first post published directly to my public blog, thanks to everyone that has visited. So far I have published posts that I wrote over the last two years, though I still need to publish some more, but I hope the writing style is enjoyable! So, I don’t know what to do, I still hear the voices narrating my actions, I keep getting into those dissociative moments where I lay down in weird positions, and during our trip to Mexico, my aunt told me she heard me talking to someone when there was no one there. I have my next appointment with the psychiatrist soon so I’m writing this to remember my symptoms because my mind tends to go blank when he’s asking me things. I don’t really have much to say for this post, maybe I’ll publish an update later. Update Wednesday 15th I thought I should comment on those dissociative episodes I have. Just now I felt one coming, I began feeling numb, tired out of nowhere, I began to move my head around pointlessly, however, this time I decided to play some music loudly, and it seems that prevented it. So, these episodes happen at least twice a week, like I said, I begin feeling numb and tired, so I lay down. My head and arms begin to drift and move pointlessly around, I move my head side to side, I hold my arms up in the air, roll around in bed, and at this point I feel completely out of it, without being able to snap out of it. I feel like I’m not myself, but I seem to be able to remember the event. Minutes go by until I begin to feel really tired from all of the moving and gradually stop. During these episodes I have also punched my pillow—quite aggressively—before throwing it across the room. And I have also hit myself like that time with the stim toy. Before the antipsychotic, it was during these episodes that I heard voices the most, I would have full blown conversations with people who weren’t there, but now I don’t hear any voices during an episode. After it all stops and I realize I’ve just been through one of these again, I begin to cry and feel very sad. I miss not having all these symptoms, I just want my life to be normal again. I should also mention to the doctor the camera hallucination, even though it has stopped, and those countless times I talked to people who were not really there. And also that every time I hear a voice, I always think it’s a real person talking, but my mom tells me that it’s all in my head. Update Saturday 18th Today’s morning was terrible. The voice began telling me how everyone was plotting to kill me, that’s why everyone stares at me; I began covering my ears while recoiling on the floor but it wouldn’t go away. I have felt really paranoid for the rest of the day along with having some fleeting suicidal thoughts. Update Sunday 26th I told my psychiatrist about the recurring voices, he didn’t say much, he increased my Risperidone dose to 2 mg and recommended to go to the hospital if symptoms keep getting worse to get reevaluated. I thought he would be able to tell me what is happening to me, but apparently not. The increased dose has been making me very sleepy in the mornings, but overall feel calmer and hear less voices.

Camera Hallucination

Camera Hallucination

I was just out on the patio, talking to my grandma’s dog in English like I used to do—maybe just talking alone, or to myself—and I couldn’t help but notice that words weren’t coming out of me the way it used to be. I would talk alone for hours, getting absolutely lost in believing that behind the camera floating around me were people who loved watching me going about my day. I livestreamed 24/7 to an audience of some 200 people, the camera automatically pivoted to whatever I wanted to share, and when it pointed at me, I would smile at it, gesture, and talk to it as if I were talking to a real person. I can only imagine myself talking to the wall… That hallucination formed part of my daily life for years, and I loved it. I felt I was famous and felt happy for having people who wanted to watch me. My imagined audience kept me company when I was most lonely, and I made them laugh and have a good time. The last time I remember talking to my audience vividly was on my way to the hospital. Encouraging messages flooded the chat—appeared in my head—they were glad I was getting help. That night I began taking Risperidone, an antipsychotic. The following days I felt my paranoia was weaker, voices stopped. And something else stopped, the camera hallucination. I still talked alone, but to no one in particular, just to the air. I was overjoyed about not feeling as paranoid, and definitely glad the voices had stopped, and I just now came to realize how much the camera hallucination meant to me. I feel lonely now that there is no audience to interact with, I don’t feel special anymore, and it makes me sad.

Weird

Weird

I feel weird, I wouldn’t know how to describe it, I just feel almost emotionless, sad, and discouraged. I have slowly been catching up with assignments, that is my main stressor, but there is still a lot I have to get done, and there are about three weeks left before winter break. Sketching and ideating have been hard, like I felt before the hospital, I feel my creativity is just gone, and I hate it. You can really see it in my last post, it is very fragmented and it doesn’t resemble my writing style at all, it is also really short. I have moments when I feel great, I would even say happy, optimistic, and that usually lasts a couple of days. There’s also days that I feel totally discouraged, I cry, and feel very sad. What’s in between is just nothing, emotionless, I guess. This last weekend I heard the voice for the first time after being in the hospital. I was in the kitchen, cooking, and the voice began narrating every single action I did. It went something like this: “She is organizing the dishes in the sink,” “She is scrubbing the plate,” “She is organizing the dried dishes on the counter, so weird,” “Now she is cutting the tomato.” I started noticing that gradually, in the end, I began imagining I was being studied in a lecture hall. I’m glad it didn’t tell me to stab myself while cutting that tomato, but it was a very weird experience. I don’t know what is going on since I am on an antipsychotic, I was talking to mom about the medicine, I feel sleepy all the time, and it is not really helping me, so I told her I would discuss with my doctor either changing it or stopping it. She said I shouldn’t, especially because I’ve been hearing those voices since at least my autism diagnosis and the antipsychotic should prevent that. Now I’m thinking I shouldn’t go off of it since I’ve just heard the voice again. Perhaps it is schizophrenia what I experience, it still makes so much sense to me, it explains the anhedonia, the cognitive decline, and I’ve had auditory hallucinations for at least a year. My current MDD diagnosis also makes sense, but the voices, it just doesn’t add up to me, especially like in this recent episode where it was just narrating my actions. Update Thursday 11/28 I’ve been feeling terrible today, I have cried a lot, it was worse just a couple minutes ago. I was trying to do my homework but I just can’t, there is no motivation or creativity. I decided to play on the Xbox; I’ve never been that much of a gamer, and I really don’t have any games so I gave up on that too. Then I realized how I don’t really do much else, all I do is schoolwork, though now I can’t even do that. I began crying very hard. A combination of very strong thoughts and voices convinced me that there is no point in being here. I don’t know what else to say, I feel really bad. I don’t want to be in the hospital again, I have an appointment coming up for medication management, I don’t think he’s a psychiatrist but I’ll tell him I keep hearing voices. I just don’t understand why I’m good at times, and then this. I can’t finish my homework, that is making me very anxious. My mom told me if I was planning to register for next semester, I’ve already done it, I can still cancel that, but I also don’t want to. I don’t know what to do. Update Sunday 12/1 Last Friday I heard the voice yet again, this time it lasted for most of the day. A high-pitched voice was telling me over and over “You’re schizophrenic, you’re schizophrenic!” I was so fed up with it, it got to the point where I looked to my side and shouted “I know! Shut up!” I don’t know if it might actually be schizophrenia, it seems very likely. I just want to feel better and want the voices to stop. Update Friday 12/6 I saw my new psychiatrist last Tuesday, after explaining to him all of my symptoms he said that it would likely be major depression with psychotic features, but that he needed to see me again. The times I have experienced psychosis have been when I feel down, with a few when I feel fine, so we'll see what happens. He gave me a new medicine for depression. There are two weeks left in the semester and I still have so much to do. I just don't have the motivation, though slowly I've been getting things done, however, I need to hurry much more. I feel very sad, and I cry very frequently, almost just now in class. I've even lost motivation to learn Solidworks, which is all I could do before. I feel hopeless about the future, I don't know if I will be able to feel better next semester. I understand that schizophrenia is a lifelong condition, though some people will recover after an episode until the next. I know that it might not be schizophrenia, but it feels like it is, so I hope I will be able to get back to my life. I don't want to feel sad, I don't want to hear voices, I don't want to be scared of being outside, I want to be creative, cheerful, bright. I wish I could be that person again. Update Thursday 12/19 I keep hearing voices, last week they were narrating my actions and mocking me among themselves. It’s finals week, so I guess stress plays into it too. And I keep getting into those weird moments of trance, I stare into the distance and lay in weird positions, wasting a lot of time. Also, earlier this month the voices convinced me that one of my second-hand books had a curse which is causing me to have these symptoms, I sprung up from the bed, gathered every single book, and looked at each page looking for something demonic. I couldn’t find anything. I also did something very reckless, I don’t even want to write about it, but I promised never to do it again. I’m sick of the voices.

Going Back

Going Back

It was only until my last day in the hospital that I learned that my mood disorder is Major Depressive Disorder, severe, with Psychotic Features. I don’t know why they didn’t tell me before. It makes a lot of sense, the severe depression made the psychosis possible. Immediately after being discharged I had an argument with mom, she drove me home in silence and dropped me off at the entrance without exchanging words. I looked in my things for my key and went in. I lay on the couch for a few hours, trying to rest and process all that I missed. My mom got mad at me because I had promised to shower and organize my stuff from the hospital, and I could not do it that day. I decided that going to the October 7th memorial would be too much for me, I felt unclean and didn’t have the energy to go to a social event that big, so I slept for the rest of the day. The next day I went to school, it was a Tuesday, Digital Sketching; it’s the class with the most overdue assignments. But it was exciting to go to school, feeling less paranoid than before, I still felt paranoid but not as much. My mood decreased from what it was in the hospital. On Wednesday I had my first IOP meeting; it’s very similar to the groups we had in the psych unit, but you’re not hospitalized. I have been doing the IOP since and it will continue for a few more weeks. My motivation has been very low, comparable to how it was before going to the hospital; same with my mood. The only positive changes I perceive are the voices, they stopped, and the paranoia has decreased significantly with the Risperidone. I’m also taking Escitalopram for depression but so far it has not helped. I keep spending hours trying to do my assignments but I don’t feel motivated, I don’t have the creativity, and I get overwhelmed with the amount of things I have to do. But I do have moments when I feel a push to do things, completing what I have proposed for the day or completing something that should have taken me days in hours. People at the IOP recommend I go off from school to recover, but that is not really possible because my major is shutting down, and classes are going to be offered for the last time, so I won’t be able to retake them later. That’s been it for now, I’ve been wanting to write this post since I was discharged but I just couldn’t do it. Update 11/8 I wanted to take some time to write an update since this post was kinda short. So, I'm being discharged from the IOP next week. It's been weird, I have gone through waves of lack of motivation, to good productivity, and now sorta mid. I can tell I'm getting better though, slowly completing assignments. Two weeks ago I did my nails—I hadn't done them in months—and my eyebrows, I shaved, it felt great! Socially, I helped build a Sukkah at school with Hillel, which was very cool, I was helping with understanding the instructions, and providing some tricks; I made quite the fame of being good at building stuff. Our Sukkah was featured by the Hillel International Instagram account! And today, I went to my second Shabbat dinner. This time I didn't leave early due to overwhelm, I stuck around and was quite social, it felt good. I've been able to completely catch up with one of my classes, Design Sustainability; I'm going to be redesigning a lint roller to make it more sustainable. For Digital Sketching though, it has taken me a little more time, just yesterday I finished five drone designs which were our second assignment—I'm missing another six probably. I've been looking through the post I wrote during my breakdown; I'm so glad to have written down my experience. It's a little traumatic, I just hope never to be in that situation again.

Hospitalized

Hospitalized

This post was written in a notebook I was given while hospitalized over seven days. Oct 3, 9:50 am So, I was hospitalized. I figured I could write a blog post from here, on paper, and later transcribe it. It was one of the scariest things I’ve done, but it was very much necessary. I couldn’t handle my emotions anymore, I was crying frequently, spent the day in bed, couldn’t do my homework, and began feeling unsafe after the voice in my head finally managed to influence my actions, and I began doing very reckless things. My suicidal ideations became stronger, and combined with my declining will live, I just didn’t feel safe at all. I decided I should admit myself to a psych ward where I would be taken care of and get help. I was going to come on Saturday after my first breakdown, but I just couldn’t do it. I never told my mom about my symptoms or about using the 988 chat. I got through the weekend mostly sleeping on my bed and lying on the floor. At night, when I got some mysterious energy, I attempted to do my homework, but no matter how long I took I simply couldn’t draw a single thing. On Sunday, my friends from Hillel were going apple picking for Rosh Hashanah at a farm in Morristown, I decided not to go because I didn’t feel like hanging out with people, much less capable of driving myself there. During the two weeks leading up to my hospitalization, the voice, I began hearing a while, back became stronger. It told me things such as, “pick up a knife and stab yourself,” or “throw yourself down the stairs,” or “step on the gas pedal.” Most of those are very intrusive thoughts that I suddenly began hearing being spoken. The last one actually happened, I stepped harder on the gas pedal while in the fast lane, and I ended up getting closer to the barrier and drove over the vibrating grooves. This contributed to me feeling unsafe and I determined it wouldn’t be good to keep driving, especially to school, which is 20 miles away. Sunday night I had another breakdown, I was crying uncontrollably, the voice wouldn’t shut up, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I somehow fell asleep, I can’t remember how. I woke up at 6 am because I didn’t delay my alarm the night before. I heard mom leaving for work, and I ended up getting up three hours later. I was determined to come to the hospital, so I took a quick shower and packed my things. I wouldn’t drive myself here, so I decided to walk, it’s just one street, one mile. I crossed the street into the hospital and walked outdoors towards the emergency department. I was told to go to pediatric since I’m still under 21. I told the person there that I wanted to admit myself, and she gave me a bracelet. In triage, the nurse asked me why I came in. I told her I didn’t feel safe, that I’ve been hearing voices telling me to hurt myself. She said it was good I came in. Inside the ER I was told to put on hospital scrubs and I was assigned a bed in a hallway. Someone sat nearby and stared at me the whole time; I thought they were just resting there, but later I learned that they were actually there to watch over me. Before they took my things away I managed to talk to mom and tell her that I was at the hospital. Her tone seemed as if it wasn’t significant that I was at the hospital. They eventually took my things and my phone, so I decided to lie down against the wall. I overheard them say that I was being moved, but they had to wait until security came. A security guy came, and together with the nurse pushed my bed into the “blue zone.” The area had double doors, they had to wait for the first to close before opening the second. Before going into my assigned room, a police officer scanned me with a metal detector. I was left in a blue room with a brick bed, a TV in a box, and a camera. I began thinking, “What have I done?” Almost immediately, someone told me that I had a visit. My mom came in shortly after; she seemed worried and asked me what happened. I told her about my symptoms, and she understood. We had a very interesting conversation. Apparently, she was too at the hospital, she came for some x-rays. An attendant at radiography helped her find me. I apologized for hiding my symptoms from her, she apologized for telling me mean things, she said she has been irritable since she broke her wrist. Our talk went on until visit hours were over, but it was very good. She told me things will change, and that we’ll get over this. I felt comforted and much calmer than before. Sometime later, they moved me to the inpatient area upstairs, it was 10 pm—I arrived at the ER at 1 pm. All throughout my stay in the ER many people asked me the same things: What do the voices say? Do I see any things? Do I want to hurt myself? I guess that because of my answers, I was told I would be assigned a sitter, and they would have to follow me around all the time, so that was annoying, but I guess it was necessary. They went over my things again, I was allowed to keep my clothes—they pulled the strings from my jacket—and nothing else. I was given a quick tour of the unit and then left to wait at the front desk for an hour until the sitter arrived. When she did, I went into my room, changed into my clothes, and went to sleep. I was very paranoid about having someone watch me sleep the whole night; I even began thinking that she would hurt me, which made no sense! She was there to make sure I didn’t hurt myself, why would she hurt me! But anyway, it was hard to fall asleep, but I eventually did. My second day was still awkward. The sitter accompanied me everywhere. I felt paranoid about going to the dining hall since it’s always busy, I could just feel the stares. I had pancakes for breakfast; a man called Pietro complimented my cutting of my pancakes in eight exact pieces. After breakfast, I went back to my room and fell asleep. I was very tired, I spent most of my day in bed. At some point, they called me to meet the care team and to sign my plan of care. The psychiatrist said I have ‘mood disorder,’ as well as the voices and other hallucinations. Later, when I saw him one to one, he ruled I don’t need a sitter, which was great; the voices have stopped during my stay here. He also explained, I experience severe anxiety and severe depression. He put me on an antidepressant and an antipsychotic, none of which I have managed to remember the names of. I felt much more comfortable without a sitter, and I had my first dose of the new meds at night. My head began hurting, but nothing too bad. On my second day, I felt much better and much less paranoid. I participated in groups, I talked to people, I assembled a parrot with stickers, and later played board games with others—I asked if I could join them. I stayed most of the day in the dining hall, which was very surprising, and also talked to other people. I don’t think it’s the meds that took the paranoia away, I mean, that’s going to happen, but with time, not after one dose, but I was happy. I stayed a while longer in the dining hall after mostly everyone left, I was building things with Jenga. I built a tower, a pagoda, a house; I was having fun. Yesterday, Rosh Hashanah started! לשנה טובה I told them if I could talk to a Rabbi but no one came, but it was okay. I wrote L’Shanah Tovah with Jenga, lol. At night I prayed like I hadn’t in a while, it was good. I recited/sang Ahavat Olam, recited Shema, and during the day I also sang Al Kol Eileh, and didn’t feel self-conscious to do it. My mum has visited me every day, it’s nice. She’s been missing me and I’ve been missing her. She told me to work hard to get better. After the Jenga, I went to get my meds and then went to my room to sleep. I was having trouble, falling asleep, I had that weird energy I feel at night. I’ve never taken any meds for sleep, so I figured here would be a good place to try. I stood up and went to the nurse’s station and asked for something to help me sleep. They gave me a pill of Trazodone. Today after breakfast, I asked if I could get a notebook and spend the whole morning writing this post. Some nursing students from Montclair came by to hang out. I talked for a while to one of them. It was surprising seeing people from school here. 1:15 pm Doctor just called me. Apparently, the risperidone, the antipsychotic works right away, so it does make sense that I feel much less paranoid and open to talk to people, it’s just impressive. I mean, walking into the dining room, doesn’t fill me with fear, it’s awesome. So yeah, he says that’s exactly what should be happening. So that’s it for now. I was told I’m being discharged on October 7th. I hope I can make it to the commemoration at night. While a nurse was changing the channel on the TV, I saw there was a devastating attack in Israel in Tel Aviv, where nothing has really happened. Looks like Iran retaliated for the killing of Nasrallah, but this time it was really bad. Yom Kippur is coming and I can only imagine there might be a massive attack like always, hopefully not. But anyway, I’m just happy not to feel paranoid, it’s great to keep my head up and talk to people, it’s great. I’m going to do another of those sticker mosaics because I’ve been writing all morning and my hand is done. 7:40 pm The rest of the day has gone well. I still cannot get over how the meds have taken my paranoia mostly away. I’ve been talking to more people and participating in groups, and I don’t get terribly overwhelmed during meal time. After my mom visited me, I decided to call my friend Liz again and see if she would pick up. She did pick up, she saw my message I left some days ago. She said she’s been missing me in class, and offered to email teachers to tell them I would be missing some classes due to medical reasons, she’s so nice. We talked about my stay, about the food, the people, and how I’m feeling with the meds. She told me she’s also been hospitalized before, and told me she’s proud of me to have come here on my own. I was happy I could talk to her. So, on weekends we are actually allowed two visitors at different times, so I told her if she’d like to visit me, I’ll be calling her tomorrow to tell her to visit times. She also said I have so many things to catch up on from school, so that’s exciting. But yeah, I’m doing well, the other day I caught myself bobbing my arms side to side while walking down the aisle, a clear indicator that I’m happy. Oct 4, 8:50 pm Today I felt a bit of paranoia, I kept my head down during groups, and a ‘shape’ on the roof out the window took the illusion of a person to me until I looked at it and turned out to be just a pipe. My doctor says it’s okay, I’m on a very low dose, so today he increased the risperidone dose to 1 mg and my escitalopram dose to 10 mg, and said that my home target dose. So, we’ll see how it goes tomorrow. Even though I felt a bit of paranoia today, I spent most of the day in the dining room. I attended many groups throughout the day. One highlight is from the spirituality group. We began talking about people pleasing and how we can sometimes forget to take care of ourselves while being preoccupied with others. I remembered how when I hold the door for someone, sometimes they don’t hold it after me or don’t say thanks; or when I’m on the bus, I make sure I’m not being annoying to others, so I watch my knees and avoid bumping the seat in front of me,… Oct 5, 9:30 am (I went to take a shower last night and had to give the pen back.) …however, the person behind me keeps bumping my seat and makes me wonder why do I even care. But those small gestures feed the good wolf, and why would you feed a wolf, it’s gonna grow and eat you. The metaphor is that if you’re always people pleasing, you’re going to sacrifice things you perhaps shouldn’t, you’re going to be stressed, anxious, overcritical, and that’s not good. You have to find the balance of self-care and being considerate of others. The good wolf will keep growing, and it might just take care of you like a pet. So be thankful, give back, and you’ll be rewarded to know you’re a good person. This definitely sounded better in group yesterday, but well; I don’t even remember what the bad wolf is supposed to do, but the whole thing was very nice to hear. Another highlight was at night, there's a Jewish guy named Mitchell, Shabbat had just started, so I decided to tell him 'Good Shabbos.' He was surprised, and I proceeded to tell him about my conversion. He, surprised asked why, so I told him I love the religion, I love the people. He said, "Mazal Tov! Welcome to the tribe, Judaism will welcome you with open arms." That was very nice to hear. I would be shaking in fear before, coming up to someone and greeting them, but now I just went, "Hey Mitch, Good Shabbos." I felt great. I have been very happy about those things I would be terrified to do before. I say 'Hey' to people walking down the hallway, I ask people if I could join them at their table, I go up to people and ask them how their day went, its truly awesome, those things would be unthinkable for me to do before; I wanted to do them, but the paranoia wouldn't allow me. So, I am very excited about going to school again, I can't wait to get on the bus and see if I feel the stares. They are not staring at me, but I feel like they are. When I walk down an aisle and there's someone walking in my direction, I hope I won't be forced to keep my head down. And in the classroom, I hope to talk to my classmates more; we've been together for one year now, and I still don't really talk to anyone. This is the person I'm supposed to be, but couldn't. Last night I began wondering where the voices come into my mood disorder, I've just thought of it, and I think I won't see the psychiatrist until Monday, or maybe not at all. That's why I thought I was in the prodromal phase of schizophrenia; voices, paranoia, ideas of reference, hallucinations, negative symptoms, that does look like something on the schizophrenia spectrum. But well, I think its good I got antipsychotic meds which are helping me. 2:10 pm I asked a social worker a couple hours ago about the voices and she said that with a mood disorder, if you are feeling extreme depression, intrusive thoughts can sometimes be too loud that they take the shape of a voice. That's how I described it down in the ER, it's hard to differentiate between a voice and very intrusive thoughts. But yeah, everything looks good, I feel much better, and I'm ready to go back to school. Oct 6, 8:45 am It’s been a meh weekend, not much has happened. My friend Liz was going to visit me yesterday, but she arrived late and they didn’t let her in, but well, I’m glad she wanted to visit me. She helped me email teachers to tell them I would be missing classes for medical reasons she said my teacher Panico has been worried so I told her less it would be okay for her to know I was in the hospital for mental health reasons. I actually told her to tell teacher that I am voluntarily in a psych ward, but that sounds better. It’s okay she knows, I will tell her later myself. I feel my hair is all knots, I don’t have a brush, I thought I brought it, but I guess I didn’t. I also have some annoying face hairs, I can’t shave of course. Before I came in, I took a shower and shaved. I kept the tea packet strings from tonight‘s snack to pluck those hairs out somehow. 10:50 pm So, this is my last night, I’m excited to go home. I want to go to school, a feeling I didn’t have at the start of the semester. I’m gonna go to an IOP, but I think I can fit it around my classes because I’m going to have so much stuff to catch up on. I met so many people here, from all walks of life, with different issues, and even though people come and go, it feels like a family. We support each other, encourage each other. It feels like a show with recurring characters and everybody has their little knack. I feel I’ve been forming a connection with everyone, even though sometimes don’t get along with each other. There’s Diane, an older lady, she’s nice, she says I look a lot like her knees. Once she got up mad for Mitch saying he doesn’t drive Volkswagen because of the Shoah. Diane thinks people should get over the Holocaust, which I don’t agree with. However, she’s still very nice, I talk to her if I see her in the hallway and during lunch. Then there’s Paul, he’s kind, quiet, he started talking to me, he made me some tea. I think he’s comfortable around me. He doesn’t like Trevor because he thinks he’s an asshole. Lastly, Trevor, I’ve been talking to him the most, like actual, long conversations—which again, very rare of me. I don’t agree with his opinion that I don’t belong here, or that he doesn’t belong here, or that this place is built for the Justins, or the Pietros, but I sort of laughed and nodded slightly when he said it—no one was near us. I constantly ask him how his day is going, if he’s got any visits coming. We’re like very close. He saw me drying my hair with a hairdryer and he went, “What, look at the special treatment, I didn’t get a hairdryer!” And I replied, “For what hair?” He laughed and said, “You’re a real one,” and high fived me. He wants to get out of here, he wants to be with his son, his dog. He’s been struggling with the fact that people from his own household, have not visited him, but people he has not seen in years have. One of his cousins even flew in from Mexico. I’ve been there nodding along, saying ‘you’ll be home soon,’ ‘it all goes up from here.’ We were mocking things like having to get a new toothbrush each time you need it. The faucet is literally just a ball sticking out. The handles are blocked on one side, so you cannot put your hand through, and things like that. Today we did some origami, he told me, “I’m gonna remember you forever lady.” And some minutes ago he said to me, “You’ve helped me a lot to get through this.” I’m so glad I’ve been of help for him, and I will certainly remember him too, I hope everything goes well for him in his home. it’s been very nice talking to him, discover I can do conversations without the paranoia, it truly is amazing to me I started sketching again, for practice, for fun. I’ve been drawing cubes, lines to figure out line weight, a chair, a drill bit, a house of cards, and I’m having fun doing it. I feel it is meditative. And I’ve been writing so much, this post is going to be hard to transcribe. I’m gonna dictate it or something. They gave me the pen with like 3 cm of ink and now it’s down to less than 1 cm. For breakfast, I’ve been having either cereal or pancakes, for lunch I have either a quesadilla or pizza, and a light pasta for dinner, those are like the most edible. So, being hospitalized definitely helped, I was at risk of harming myself, I was severely depressed, unable to do simple things. I’m very excited to go back. End of transcription

Breakdown

Breakdown

I can't anymore. I feel extreme sadness and have zero motivation and zero creativity. I can't get my assignments done, and even if I really try I feel that my sketching skills are just gone. I cry frequently on a daily basis, I have frequent suicidal thoughts. I stopped being able to stay on top of my assignments, I have so many things piled up. I spend the day lying down in bed, if I must do something I will return exhausted to bed; after school, I just feel like lying on the floor. Paranoid thoughts make being outside terrifying. I reached out for help, which is one week away, but I don't think I'll make it to those appointments. Yesterday I had a big emotional breakdown as I was debating checking myself into a psychiatric hospital. Feeling overwhelmed, I decided to contact 988 through chat. I identified symptoms of schizophrenia about one month back, with the first instance happening two months ago. I first began hearing noises, which soon turned into voices telling me to do something I didn’t want to do, self-harm. I also began seeing myself in weird environments. Dissociation has been happening more frequently by the day I would say; even while driving my eyes just ‘lose their focus’ and I feel controlled by an external force as my mind is somewhere else. The sadness is just too much, I break into tears very frequently as I get stuck thinking about how I will fail my assignments, I feel guilt about not being able to get up and do my things. I don’t feel in danger of harming myself, but now I’ve also lost any desire to be alive. My third semester just began a month ago, and I was already struggling to keep up with assignments. I have needed to stay up all night to finish things which just worsens my symptoms and makes driving even more dangerous. This collection of occurrences made me realize that I need urgent help, even though I will have a meeting with someone from school this Tuesday, and I’ll be seeing the social worker on Thursday, I don’t think I’ll make it until then, and I might need to reach out for help sooner. I recorded the whole next situation on my Apple Watch. I sometimes do this to make the camera hallucination more realistic, sometimes I record on OBS as well. I was already having a conversation with my audience so I just decided to record the talk. I was sitting on my bed, attempting to sketch some drone designs when that realization hit. It was clear I cannot cope with these symptoms anymore so I looked up the nearest psychiatric hospital. The hospital just one block away has inpatient hospitalization. I figured I should go as soon as possible, but then I got overwhelmed with rampant thoughts of what my mom would think. When I was diagnosed with autism she never wanted to recognize the diagnosis. She refused to understand the coping mechanisms I had learned; she would tell me in an irritated tone “You don’t need that,” when she would see me putting my earplugs in which clearly worked for me, how could she know what I feel. And she frequently calls me stupid and retarded when I mishear things or fail to understand her. Many thoughts flooded my mind of her telling me terrible things about my psychotic symptoms and my decision to voluntarily go to the hospital; I was hearing those things vividly and got very overwhelmed. I began crying uncontrollably, it was hard to breathe, suicidal thoughts ran through my mind. I also began feeling worried about missing classes and assignments while hospitalized, like that fucking matters right now. Not to mention thoughts about how expensive a hospitalization would be. I began feeling scared and decided to chat with someone from the 988 hotline. While waiting for someone to connect I began feeling calmer but still split between going to the hospital or waiting until my appointments this week. When someone answered I told the whole situation I just wrote about. I didn’t feel I was getting any help; the other person looked like AI, with perfect grammar, saying back what I’d just said, it seemed sus. I revealed my symptoms of psychosis and that I was debating going to the hospital. They asked if I wanted to disclose any diagnoses; I said that based on my symptoms I was considering it might be schizophrenia. But yeah, it was weird, all I did was disclose information in what felt more like a survey for statistics. After the chat when I was feeling better, I kept talking for the recording for a little over an hour. Just as listening to the lived experience of autistic people helped me cope with the symptoms I was experiencing, I wanted to find some of those stories but from people with schizophrenia. I had already listened to some accounts, which were very similar to what I’m going through now. They had their first episodes of psychosis late in high school, early in college. Negative symptoms came first somewhat slowly, but the start of psychosis tended to be sudden. There would be depression, decline in hygiene. And they hid their symptoms relatively well, until they couldn’t anymore. Then, family members and friends would begin feeling concerned, they would call police to have them escorted to the hospital. And even if they were not suicidal or in active psychosis, police still patted them down and put them in handcuffs. So many times I’ve almost ended up in the same situation during arguments with mom. Although for different reasons, but back then I never recognized I needed help, I wonder what would have happened if my mom had left me at that psychiatric hospital one day instead of taking me to school. Or if police had gone up to our apartment as I was ready to open my 5th floor bedroom window. Anyway. I went on the schizophrenia subreddit, I found some comics that really spoke to me. There’s one about a person calling their symptoms ‘Ben,’ with many different things Ben makes them think and hear and see, about the meds they had taken, two of which had terrible side effects, and how even though Ben never left, they learned ways to cope with Ben, that it is okay to ask for help. The last three vignettes say: “Long story short: Ben sucks, but he’s a part of me now. And I’ll learn to live with him. Step by step.” This made me cry again, but now because I realized there is hope even though I do not feel it. The comic made me realize I am not alone in these irrational thoughts. In one of the vignettes Ben said to the person: “The neighbors are spying on you. They all make fun of you and because of that sound they know what you’re thinking about.” That felt too real, very similar to the thoughts that make me paranoid. I found another one of someone opening the cleaning cabinet, picking up a bottle of bleach and hearing a voice telling them to drink it. When I hear a voice it usually tells me to harm myself like that. Like throw yourself down the stairs or pick up the knife and stab yourself. Only once it’s told me to hit the person next to me on the bus, which of course, I didn’t. Lastly, I found a meme with two cats, the doctor goes: “I’m sorry sir, but you have been diagnosed with schizophrenia.” And the other cat says: “Chat, is this real?” And the doctor says: “Oh G-d, it’s getting worse.” That got a massive laugh out of me, after crying the whole day. It is referring to the camera hallucination, that I’ve read many people have. I am finishing writing this post Sunday night; writing here is the only thing I feel motivated to do. I couldn’t do my homework, and it’s a lot. I don’t feel comfortable driving, even though I’ve done it over the weekend, while raining. I don’t know if I should skip school tomorrow, have my counseling intake appointment Tuesday morning and see what happens. If I do end up skipping school tomorrow I need to catch up with all my homework, the best I can. And then see the social worker on Thursday, where she might likely consider a hospitalization. My symptoms are very much real, and I feel them worsening every day, but future me will get help, I will get meds, I will do counseling and slowly I’ll get my life back. For future me to get help I need to keep alive now. Update Monday 1:27 I just had another breakdown, I’m trying to write about it to calm down. I’m not going to school tomorrow, I’m going to the hospital. I very much need it, even though I get thoughts that it is not necessary, that my symptoms are not enough, I can’t anymore. They will help me there. I will miss classes, I will miss assignments, but that doesn’t matter. My mom might say mean things to me, but I will not tell her, someone from hospital will need to tell her I’m there. What worries me is that my mom doesn’t know about my symptoms. I promised myself I wouldn’t tell her about them because she can be very mean, and that is just going to kill me, it would hurt a lot. But I have become visibly upset, sad, and she still doesn’t notice. She is adamant that I’m lazy and that I should snap out of it when that is not the issue. Perhaps she does notice but doesn’t care, or won’t do anything about it because I’m 19 now and I’m supposed to care for myself. I don’t know, I’m just hoping she actually commends my decision to get help and recognizes the severity of what I’m feeling based on where I got myself hospitalized. It is a very scary thought, but I really need to do it. I recognize now that even though I don’t feel like I would hurt myself, just having constant thoughts of self-harm and those voices telling me to do terrible things is well enough to warrant hospitalization. So as scary as it is and as overwhelmed as it will make me feel, I will move forward with it. I will get the help I need. Update Monday 3:22 I am waiting to be admitted. This was extremely scary to do. But it was very important.

Maybe It's Not Autism

Maybe It's Not Autism

It’s been terrible the last couple of weeks… I feel worse than I did last December, terribly sad, lonely, hopeless. My suicidal ideations still occur, frequently. I feel drained, tired; at school this third semester I’m beginning to struggle with motivation and lack of creativity that I know once was there. The courseload is much greater than any of my past semesters—I think the trend line is clear at this point. I’m not sleeping enough, I’m missing assignments, and I feel like breaking into tears more than half the time. I began feeling better during the first months of the year when I started attending events, going places, and ‘meeting people.’ Despite those out-of-character efforts, I still failed to connect with anyone. As I began writing another post—still unpublished—I began writing about my social experiences.I really struggle with making friends, I don’t know what makes it so difficult. I feel overwhelmed with fear, it forces me to stare at the ground, make zero eye contact, and thoughts that people are out to get me flood my head. I finished my last year of high school without making a single friend; there were many days I didn’t even speak a word at school.After writing one more paragraph I decided to zoom out and read back what I’d just written. “Thoughts that people are out to get me flood my head;” In that moment my mind made the connection to schizophrenia; “That sounds like schizophrenia,” I went, internally. I don’t know where I learned that such paranoid thoughts and isolation were symptoms of schizophrenia, but I knew it. I also knew that a person with schizophrenia experiences intense psychosis, such as hearing voices, which began feeling somewhat similar to other personal experiences. I began to question why I get so intensely overwhelmed in social situations. Most of those paranoid thoughts I get occur when I’m in public without necessarily interacting with people. I feel that people are staring at me, judging my every move, and that’s when I get thoughts of them wanting to hurt me, or if I hear laughter I think they are making fun of me. It gets extremely uncomfortable and scary. Sometimes people do look at me, even though I’m not looking at them I can see their heads turn on the edge of my vision. Sometimes they are just looking in my direction, past me, and this also triggers it, but I almost never look up to confirm they are not looking at me. I first described this feeling in a past post from high school as I was debating if it was all in my head or not. Feeling that scared makes it hard to feel relaxed, I do not participate in class, I get overwhelmed at temple, I keep my head down, and miss familiar people that walk by. It is a terrible thing. Shortly after, I recalled writing about what I call a ‘delusional episode’ on the Dysautonomia symptoms page. Knowing now what a delusion is, the way I call such episodes is not really accurate. They are times when I feel numb, in trance, fatigue takes over me, and sometimes I hear voices, or have conversations with people as if it were a dream but being very much awake. That time on August 2nd I was laying in an awkward position on the couch with my head under some cushions for some 45 minutes. I began seeing the interior of a noisy shopping mall with lots of people; my perception began feeling overwhelmed by the noise and occasionally, a person, more like a black figure would appear in front of me and say something very scary which made me physically spasm. So recalling a time when I heard voices in my head and my usual paranoia made me realize that, at least with the paranoia; my daily experiences look like schizophrenia, and the auditory hallucinations, of course, very much relevant to schizophrenia. So, some learning was in order. Ideas of reference could be like I explained, when I hear laughter behind me, I immediately think it’s people making fun of me. Magical thinking; this one was interesting to learn about. So, I’ve always felt a special connection with the number 13, my favorite. As 133, it was the username Instagram assigned to me since my first choice was taken. When I glance up at the clock randomly it just so happens that it is 11:33, or 1:33, or 21:33. In the airport, Gates 1-33. My heart rate lingers at 133 bpm sometimes; I have a screenshot of an hour long workout with my current and average heart rate being 133. I began thinking of this weird but frequent occurrence as a manifestation of Hashem in my life; spotting the number makes me smile and say Toda Lecha up to the sky, but it was only recently that I discovered that the gematria of ‘echad’ is 13, and you know how the Shema goes. 1:33 am right now finishing writing this paragraph. I also talk, a lot, ‘alone.’ I don’t exactly talk to myself; I have a hallucination of a floating camera that follows me around all day and through it I broadcast to an audience of some 200 people that can interact with me. So when I talk to the camera I look at it, it commonly sits slightly to my side and points down at me, I do gestures at it, I tell the audience what is happening, engage in intense conversation, more like speech or monologue, about my day, how are things going, what I need to do, serious topics, etc. Sometimes I whisper at the camera when I cannot be loud, and when there’s people around I tell the audience I am going to transmit my voice directly to the camera, so they won’t see my mouth moving but they’ll hear me. I can switch the camera to my eyes, so the audience would see my pov. The stream layout has at the top a box reading out my every thought which I usually say aloud right away, or if the thought is too long or too complex I tell the audience “Thinkbox,” so they read the box. This feels different from being observed at all times, I find it relaxing and helpful for self-reflection and do not consider it a hindrance. Also relevant to schizophrenia is excessive daydreaming. I commonly get absorbed into my own thoughts which is a problem sometimes. Mom always says I’m in my own world, I fail to hear what people say to me, fail to understand instructions, and I get frequently caught during dissociation which makes me very self-conscious afterward. So, recognizing the symptoms, I looked up some questionnaires that did indicate the possibility of schizophrenia. However the questions on the tests sounded familiar to me; I realized some of them were part of my autism diagnosis. I looked up the file for the BASC-3 test I underwent and sure enough, the type of questions on the schizophrenia questionnaire were categorized as ‘atypicality’ on the BASC. The graph displaying the T-scores of each category showed my atypicality score as being the highest of all categories and it is halfway through the clinically significant range. If you look at the atypicality questions it is pretty clear that they are supposed to screen for schizophrenia spectrum symptoms.I feel like people are out to get me. I hear things others cannot hear, People think I’m strange. I see weird things. I hear voices in my head that no one else can hear. Even when alone, I feel like someone is watching me.So since my autism diagnosis I have recognized that I have those weird perceptions but didn’t know what they were related to. The result itself says that such a high score usually warrants follow-up, and that never happened. I am doubting my autism diagnosis, because even though some symptoms of schizophrenia can be similar to autism, I can’t see an autistic person getting that kind of unusual perceptions, hallucinations, and odd thinking. My next clinically significant results on the BASC were social anxiety, somatization, internalizing problems, hyperactivity, and interpersonal relations. I can immediately see how accurate those results are; social anxiety, no mystery there, somatization would be struggling with physical health symptoms, that I have described extensively on the Dysautonomia page. I guess I do internalize my problems, I hesitate to ask for help, until I realize I just can't cope. I decided to tell my doctor about all of this. I wrote a note because I knew I wouldn’t be able to get it all out without getting nervous. She read through my symptoms and the confessions I mentioned in the last post; she was very supportive and tried to understand some of my symptoms that weren’t too clear. She said I should talk to the social worker there but she was out for the day. She made sure I was not at risk of hurting myself and that I had support in the meantime. Revealing what pretty much all I’ve written here and in the Lies post was very scary, but I’m glad I did it, and now I’m going to get some help. The social worker contacted me and I am scheduled for next week. Same for counseling at school, I finally called to make an appointment, and after the intake appointment, they are probably going to provide a referral somewhere else. I had been looking forward to my appointment for more than a month. I began developing a dread sensation and had frequent thoughts that I would never make it to the appointment, that I would die before it, from lack of sleep, driving tired, not eating, due to my dedication to my assignments. I did have my appointment, but now I have to survive until next week Tuesday, and then until Thursday, and then until whatever date comes out of that Thursday meeting until I don’t have to survive anymore and instead will want to keep living again. I know deep down I do not want to die, even though at the moment my mind is partial about it. Additionally, school is becoming increasingly difficult. My third semester has just started and I'm already having to pull all-nighters to get work done. I feel that my motivation is gone, and my drawing skills are too; it is hard to come up with ideas, I spend hours just pondering on what to do for a project, and when sketching I have such a hard time getting it just right and get it done quickly. I've become terrified of what will become of me professionally when I once had such optimism and motivation that made me feel I could tackle anything. On the Industrial Design subreddit people frequently post about the lack of jobs in this field, even senior designers are struggling. People shift to other fields, newcomers get a big slap telling them to seriously reconsider getting into ID; the future seems very scary. And even if I ever get an interview, it is very likely employers are not going to want someone like me. I am beginning to think I should switch careers to something that would be stable. However, on some posts on the ID subreddit people say that if you like doing design, if you enjoy it, then it will be a great experience, hard nonetheless; you will definitely need to be willing to move to where the jobs are, and practice, practice, practice your skills. I certainly do enjoy it, I love building physical models in the shop and recreating objects in Solidworks; even though I'm having a hard time with it now, I know I would have a blast ideating concepts and later focusing excessively on details. But ID requires social skills, networking is essential, presentations, emails, and phone calls are a daily thing, and that's scary because I know I have big social issues. I'm hopeful I will make it; when I can get my sketches done they are amazing, teachers commend those skills frequently, and I've made a bit of fame for making clean sketches and models. However, I guess I do need to consider that if my mental condition doesn't improve, or develops into something worse, I should at least be working on having stable economic means. Let's see what happens...

Still Sad?

Still Sad?

In the final weeks of Fall 2023, I fell into a terrible depression, I could not bring myself out of bed, not even for my favorite activities, my mind was constantly blasted with long dormant flashes of self-harm, and I cried, desperately asking why I couldn't feel better. However, after discovering Judaism I gained an unexplainable drive to learn about it, even though finding motivation to do just about anything felt impossible. I spent hours hyper-focused on reading about the Torah, beliefs, and practices and remained distracted from those terrible self-harm thoughts. As time went by, such thoughts subsided; I went back to school with a newly found enthusiasm; having decided to convert to Judaism, I felt capable of making new connections, and I was ready to continue making impactful sketches that would impress my teachers. For a while, everything went well, I was regularly hanging out with my friends from Hillel, and in class, I was frequently commended for my attention to detail and great line weight in my sketching. But at some point, things began sliding back. Our courseload suddenly increased and I had to stay up all night frequently to do my assignments, but sometimes I just couldn't, and handing in things late made me feel really bad. This rhythm remained constant until the end of the semester and I tried my very best, but sometimes I was not able to make it. At home, I had begun to introduce Jewish practices into my routine, but I had yet to go to a synagogue and talk with the rabbi to officially start the conversion process. I knew I would have to tell my mom about my intention to convert, so I could go out without making dumb excuses. And I did, and her response was somewhat mixed, accepting, but then not, and talked with that hostile tone she does without thinking. I became scared to mention anything related to Judaism, and communication between us became shut. I cannot discuss the topic with her and it makes me hesitant to recite blessings for my food when she's around, and leaving the house for Shabbat service gets scary. I finished the semester barely sleeping but I did it, and with amazing grades, I even made it to the Dean's List. And recently, my mom has become slightly more open to talking about my conversion, she even accompanied me to a Shabbat service, that's a massive step in the right direction, Baruch Hashem! And yet, those self-harming thoughts still linger, it is still difficult to stand up each morning, or noon if I'm being honest. Why? It's clear I'm having trouble getting past this on my own, and like I did in December, I'm open to therapy, but it's so expensive plus it did nothing other than overdraft my bank account last time. Last week while walking in the park my mom began discussing what she calls my 'laziness.' This time I decided to just say it, I have not been doing well for the last half a year, and I need help. She switched to that hurtful tone and basically told me that I'm on my own. I don't know what I was expecting, last time I told her about my suicidal thoughts she just encouraged them. It is terrifying and dangerous that my own mother was telling me to just do it. Perhaps she thought I was not capable of doing it, but it could have gone both ways. But it's true, I found evidence that since I was 10 years old I've had these thoughts, but I have never harmed myself, because that's not really what I want. A mitzvah from the Torah has been keeping those thoughts away, When I get a flash I just tell myself to 'choose life,' and the negative thoughts go away. I just know that if my mom and I could just talk about everything, things would improve. But communication doesn't really exist between us. I can only ask Hashem to keep me hopeful. So, since the semester ended I was stripped of a familiar routine and now I struggle to do much of anything, so I've been working on an all-encompassing routine for the rest of the summer that will get me out of bed at a good time and to go outside for walks and exercise. I know that will help.

Depression

Depression

I felt at my worst two weeks before the end of my first semester of college, I cried out of nowhere, waking up was harder than usual, and I didn’t feel any motivation to do the things I love the most. Those last two weeks were final projects submissions and my performance was impacted. I handed a couple of works late, which made me feel terrible since I had not done such a thing for a long time. For my design projects I couldn’t find motivation, I spent hours trying to draw my iron design a certain way and couldn’t work it out. I had to move forward with a shape I didn’t like if I wanted to finish. I had to pull many all-nighters but failed to stay up sometimes, which led to late submissions. I didn’t sleep from Monday to Tuesday of the second week, and somehow I felt energetic all throughout, which is unusual. By the end of the day, just as I got in the elevator I nearly collapsed, like the phantom energy that I had was suddenly taken away. It was extremely draining and unhealthy. It’s just that I am a very happy and cheerful person, but I couldn’t do anything! It sounds dumb and feels dumb, but I didn’t have the energy or motivation to do anything. I missed my design project deadline and the submission was locked on Canvas. I felt devastated, I quickly wrote an email to my teacher asking for more time, mentioning that I was having mental health difficulties. Thankfully, he extended my deadline for Friday. I worked very hard and at my fastest, and the quality actually was very good but I felt I could do better. I finished scanning my work at 1:59 and couldn’t rename the file name so I could submit it before 2pm. Since we are supposed to rename files I felt terrible because I didn’t do it. I think that is an autistic thing, feeling terrible after breaking a rule. I also had been working on a cardboard trashcan project and as usual, I decided to go above and beyond with it. I made it extremely complicated for myself, but the result was a very clean look. At least up until things began to not go as planned. I had to replace some elements very quickly, and couldn’t put much dedication on them, so in the end I didn’t like how the trash can looked, even though everyone, including teacher told me that my trash can looked so clean and nice. I did feel a bit of happiness among all of this when I showed my teacher the trash can before all the changes. A senior joined in, and everyone was very surprised. My teacher laughed out of surprise and awe and congratulated me for the cleanliness of the trash can. After the senior said the same, my teacher said: “yeah, she makes the cleanest models.” I felt very proud and happy, even though it quickly wore off. At the end, my trash can earned full marks, along with my final writing project which I handed in late. But that was not enough to make me feel better. The semester ended and I could finally rest for a while, but not much because my mom and I were going to travel to Mexico, stay for New Year’s, and later a big birthday party for my grandma. I felt extremely drained, and depressed, and didn’t want to go and submit myself to that sensory nightmare.

Mom Won't Understand

Mom Won't Understand

Ever since I learned I’m autistic, I have made efforts to improve my experiences. These efforts included buying a pair of earplugs—they work great! The thing about sensory overstimulation is that it degrades your mood over time. I would get through the day before buying the earplugs, but I would feel incredibly tired and irritated afterward, with no explanation as to why. Now I know that being in a noisy environment causes this reaction, and now I avoid such environments to prevent feeling down after. It works great, I feel like I have more energy. It’s like avoiding feeling overwhelmed and sad before so that afterward, I can feel happy and energetic. (Ok, I wrote the above in November last year and didn’t finish it. Long story short, The last months of last semester were absolutely terrible.) I don’t know what the problem is with my mom and my autism. For a very long time, I thought she wouldn’t accept it outright, even though I’m formally diagnosed. Then I think she finally accepted that I am autistic but would express disgust when I wore my earplugs or my glasses. She very frequently asked me to take my headphones off when washing the dishes, a very noisy activity. I would decline and she would get very upset. She would say things like: “Why are you acting this way now?” I told her before that she might have that sort of reaction as I unmask and learn to take care of myself. As usual, those comments would be followed by insults like stupid or retarded. That denial, the insults, isolation at school, and a new environment drove my mood to absolute bottom. It was terrible, and yes, I’m thankful to say that I am finally escaping—I will explain in the next post. Every clash with my mom triggered long-dormant self-harm thoughts. The first of these was when driving my car home from the dealership. My mom was giving me advice, I was nervous and everything felt louder. I told her to lower her voice but she wouldn’t do it because she was not talking loudly according to her. I told her again to lower her voice, but this time she got mad. On purpose she started shouting at me, she said: “that is not loud, THIS IS LOUD!” That caused me a meltdown. I began to cry, and scream “shut up!” repeatedly, I began banging the steering wheel. And then it happened, just as I had merged into the interstate at the far-left I had a sudden flash showing a simple motion of the steering wheel which could end it all. I calmed myself down by breathing and didn’t act upon that thought, I am still here. That happened in August and slowly through December, the frequency of those thoughts increased.