Alone in Her Room

(cont. from Life Interrupted)

(June 09, 2004) -- Farrah Russell knew she was broken.

She couldn't think clearly, and sometimes her words and gestures didn't make sense. She spoke aloud to people who weren't there and thought the television could read her mind.

But in the nearly four years she lived with schizophrenia, she never forgot the person she was before the spring of 1999. That's when the disease turned a beautiful and vibrant 19-year-old into someone else -- a tormented soul often hospitalized, rejected by employers and abandoned by her peers.

Last year, Russell spent a significant amount of time in her bedroom in her parents' Portland home, recording herself on the family's video camera.

The photos taken from that tape show her dancing and goofing around with her 9-year-old half-sister, Jade. They braid each other's hair and lip-sync to CDs by Alisha's Attic and the Spice Girls.

In another recorded session, Russell tries to perform a dramatic monologue she learned in a college acting class, but she is too confused to remember the words.

Another time, she tries to explain what it's like to live with schizophrenia.

"I've read this book three times, and I still don't know what it's about," she says, holding a book about mental illness up to the camera. "Having schizophrenia really sucks. I've lost my conscience."

Russell recorded the final session of the video late one night, shortly before she was hospitalized in June 2002.

"I'm going to miss my parents," she says, reading a suicide note from her journal. "The only reason I'm doing this tonight is because . . . well . . . well . . . ."

She can't find the words.

"I want people to think I was a classy person," Russell concludes, then starts to chant, "Murder him! Murder him! Murder him! Like you want to murder me. Murder him!"

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Six months later, on New Year's Day, as she packed for the move to her new apartment, Russell tried to record over the last section of the tape. She talked about the future and what life would be like in her new home.

But she didn't record long enough, leaving a haunting glimpse into the dark depths of her illness.

"I don't know what happened to me," she cries, rocking back and forth. "I've lost reality so many times.

"I had dreams," she whispers over and over. "I had dreams."

Source: The Oregonian

continues with Life, Interrupted

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