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Suicide

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.

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.

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.