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Psychosis

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.

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...