I remember my first time being committed to a psychiatric hospital. I had been living homeless and delusional outside for 13 months, and felt life was exciting and free. Unaware that I was suffering, I told myself that it was okay to get caught outside in rainstorms and that looking for food in the garbage to eat every day was an acceptable part of life.
When I finally realized the hospital was not letting me out right away, and that something was truly wrong with me, I felt a rush of different emotions. I felt angry, sorrowful, hopeless, and even betrayed. I needed compassion and an explanation.
I felt anger
When I was finally hospitalized for my schizophrenia, I couldn’t understand what was happening to me. I remembered being an honor student at USC, studying biochemistry and doing research. I thought I was the same person, and nothing had really changed, unaware that everything had changed, and that my mind was failing me. I always thought I was homeless because this was a necessary step in my life and ordained by God. I had expected to become a prophet. When I began to realize that these goals and dreams had been delusions, I was left feeling angry.
I also thought through my life and began to understand what I had missed. I had not finished my bachelor’s degree, been married, or ever worked a job for more than a few months. I had nothing to show for my four years homeless (though later in life, in recovery, this experience would help me understand and encourage others).
I did not know anything about schizophrenia, beyond the misconceptions that are held by the general public. My diagnosis felt incredibly insulting.
I felt sorrowful
When first diagnosed, I was in a state of shock. I thought the treatment team at the hospital did not really know me and had made a mistake. When I was discharged and began to realize that I did have a serious mental illness, I began to deeply grieve. I remember lying in bed, looking at pictures of a friend who had recently married. At that time, I thought I would never marry or return to school or work again. I was devastated.
I felt betrayed
As I stabilized on my first antipsychotic medication, and as my mind began to clear, my side effects began to seriously interfere with my life. I could not stop eating, slept at least 16 hours a day, felt stiff and restless, and had a blunt affect. I struggled to experience pleasure at any time. When these side effects showed up, I felt like my doctor had betrayed me, and I wondered how he could do this to me.
I wish that my doctor had been very transparent with me about the side effects when I started my first antipsychotic. I wish he had told me that if I struggled with side effects, I should talk to him right away. I was unaware that many of my side effects could have been treated. At that time, I did not know that switching to a certain antipsychotic for treatment-resistant people would eliminate almost all my side effects and give me a new chance at life.
I needed compassion
During this incredibly hard time in my life, I needed kindness, gentleness, and patience. I remember a hospital staff member making a casual remark that I would be on my medication for the rest of my life, while I was certain beyond a doubt that I could go off my antipsychotic and remain in control of my actions. Her tactlessness is one of the things I remember most vividly from my first hospitalization.
But when I began my first antipsychotic medication, a miracle happened. My paranoia and delusions disappeared, as well as my visual hallucinations and most of my auditory hallucinations. My treatment team was pleased and decided I was ready for discharge. But I had no realization that the medication had changed anything.
Before discharge, I wish I had sat down with a kind, patient, and compassionate staff member, someone who could gently let me know that my behavior had changed because of the antipsychotic medication, and that I would almost certainly relapse if I went off of it.
I needed an explanation
I also held a deep secret. Though I was adamantly repeating to my doctors over and over that I did not and had never at any time heard voices, in my heart, I knew there were voices in my mind. These voices were entirely resistant to my medication. Because the staff had not built enough rapport, and because I did not trust them, or even like most of them, I would carry this secret with me for months while on my first antipsychotic medication.
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Looking back, I needed an explanation. I needed to be told what schizophrenia was (a treatable brain disorder that can affect anyone) and assured that, if I always stayed on my medication, without disruption, work and school might be possible again. I needed to understand how dangerous it was to go off my medication, and to be assured that there was still hope for my future.
I needed to know I had not lost everything I held dear
Finally, I needed to know that, rather than facing the end of my life, my schizophrenia diagnosis was a new beginning. I thought I had lost everything, including my ability to study and work. But after finding a doctor who refused to give up and prescribed underutilized medications, I would reach a point of full recovery. That was 17 years ago. I graduated from college in 2011, with honors, and today I work, managing a non-profit foundation.
Dealing with emotions
Dealing with a new schizophrenia diagnosis can bring on a roller coaster of emotions. I felt angry, sorrowful, and betrayed. At that time, I did not trust any member of my treatment team, and so I lied about residual symptoms I was experiencing.
I strongly advise nurses, doctors, therapists, and other mental health professionals to be acutely aware of the hurt associated with a schizophrenia diagnosis and the difficulty of accepting it. Offering compassion, patience, and kindness can make a significant and positive difference in a person’s life, help them stay in treatment, and pave the way forward for a better outcome in both the short term and for the rest of a person’s life.