“Schizophrenia rolls in like a slow fog, becoming imperceptibly thicker as time goes on. At first, the day is bright enough, the sky is clear, the sunlight warms your shoulders. But soon, you notice a haze beginning to gather around you, and the air feels not quite so warm. After a while, the sun is a dim lightbulb behind a heavy cloth. The horizon has vanished into a gray mist, and you feel a thick dampness in your lungs as you stand, cold and wet, in the afternoon dark.” pg 35, The center cannot hold

It all started in 2013, more specifically, the morning of August 20. I was late for work and I basically ran outside the door. Less than a block later I stopped, shocked at what I was seeing. I was in front of a small church, and there was a car parked in front, with a dead guy inside. There was a screaming woman who was holding a baby and trying to open the door. I could hear the police approaching. Scared, I walked away. A couple of hours later, still afraid of what I’ve seen, I decided to text my best friend. She started to investigate. There were no markers of the accident, the neighbors and other house members didn’t see anything. It didn’t happen.

That was the first of many episodes I would have. Odd scenes flashed before my eyes and made me terrified to walk alone at night. I would hear people screaming for help but there was no one there. Soon after I started hearing 4 voices, 2 male and 2 female. They came and went, but always wanted to make me feel sad or scared. They told me there was someone out there looking for me and he was going to kill me, and I believed them.

I shared what was happening with one of my friends, who knew about my family history of schizophrenia and forced me to tell my parents. Worried, they made me go back to their home, first of many times this would happen. I somehow managed to convince my parents I was OK and went back to doing research at a well known university.

Couple of months later my symptoms started to get worse. I was forced to see a doctor and was diagnosed with prodromal psychosis. Regardless, life went on, I got a new job and a lot of friends. Dealing with my condition was hard, but being a scientist I could understand what was happening and that helped keep my grip on reality. I was happier than I’ve ever been, but that would not last long. I was hearing voices 24/7 and several episodes later, including 3 self harm episodes (one in which I was convinced my best friend was dying at the hospital and if I inscribed a symbol in my leg and deciphered it before the day was over I could save him), I was diagnosed with schizophrenia. Later on I was admitted to the psychiatric ward. Two friends took me there, and they called my parents to let them know what was happening. I told my parents not to come and get me, I was in denial and convinced I did not need them. 3 days later I was released and forced to go back to living with my parents.

I somehow managed to leave again, but this time my mother came along. Life would not be as straightforward as it used to be though.

The first thing I lost was my job. I was told I needed a break and needed things to stabilize again after all that had happened. Then my friends started questioning whether I was actually psychotic or not. I got very upset and stopped telling people about what was going on in my head, which resulted in more intense episodes. Soon after I was forced to move out of my home, because people were afraid I might be a danger to them (I lived at a “hackerhouse” with ~20 other people). And I slowly lost most of my friends. Most of the people I thought cared, and whom I loved deeply, just stopped talking to me at once.

I entered a depressed stage. I was in denial. I did not have a problem. With some convincing from the voices, I stopped taking my medicine and I got even worse. I tried running away from my parents and failed and was taken to live with them. I hurt myself again. I had no reason to live. I didn’t have my work to drive me or as many friends to support me. I was so depressed one day I attempted suicide — took as many Risperdal pills as I could before I heard my mom coming back home (around 50–60 pills).

Several doctors and lots of medicine later, I started getting better. There was hope again, and I got back to researching and learning. I finally had a reason to wake up every morning. My mood was stabilizing, and I left my parent’s home again.

After a couple of days my doctor became worried I would become suicidal again, and he sent me back home. It didn’t affect me as much as the previous times, as I had found a new job and I could work from abroad.

There is a big stigma around schizophrenia. People don’t understand the disorder, they just assume you are crazy, and therefore become afraid when they hear someone has it. Misunderstanding made me to lose my job, my friends and my home. After talking to several schizophrenia foundations, including Cure Alliance and The Schizophrenia Research Forum, I was motivated to write a post about my experiences.

I am still experiencing symptoms of psychosis, but that is not stopping me from continuing with my life. I’ve continued my research and hope to publish my first paper by mid 2015. I am going back to college in January.

I am not the only one who’s been able to move on with life. There are several successful schizophrenic people, like Elyn Saks and John Nash. It is definitely hard, not knowing what is real and what is not, being completely brain dead from the meds, having constant delusions, being depressed; but there is a way forward, and maybe I have a chance to succeed. Personally what’s allowed me to move forward, I think, has been my work and my friends. Work keeps away my demons and nightmares. As long as I am busy with something I can survive.

-Another schizophrenic patient

Feel free to reach out at schizophrenialives@gmail.com, if you want to hear more about the specifics of what I’ve been going through or want to share your own experiences.