Sometimes, it seems as though feeling anxiety is the only thing I can feel. Everything seems to provoke my anxiety—even seemingly simple tasks such as bathing and washing my hair. I am constantly worrying, even when I’m supposed to be having a good time.
I blame myself for hearing voices because of schizoaffective disorder almost every time it happens. I know this doesn’t make sense, and I’m not being fair to myself. But it also adds an element of guilt to an already difficult situation.
A lot of people say that taking schizoaffective medication hinders their creativity. For me, this hasn’t been the case. Taking psychiatric medication keeps me stable and helps me stay productive—and ensures that the art I make is good.
I'm afraid to drive. My schizoaffective anxiety used to only make me afraid to drive in the snow, and then the rain. But now I feel anxious whenever I drive. Here’s how I’m coping.
I was experiencing my first taste of schizoaffective depression 25 years ago, in the summer of 1994, when I was 15 years old. It was nothing compared to the depression I’d experience later in life, and I didn’t even realize there was a schizoaffective disorder aspect to it, but I knew something wasn’t right.
My dad has always been there for me. Always. He's been there since the day I was born up until now, before and after my diagnosis of schizoaffective disorder. He even whispered, “I’ll always be here for you” in my ear before he gave me away at my wedding. Not only has he always been there for me, but watching him battle his own personal demons has been inspirational for me.
In September and then again in January, I increased my antipsychotic for schizoaffective disorder even though I knew it would probably cause weight gain. And, it did. But I am much better off now mentally than I was before I made the changes, so I don’t want to decrease the schizoaffective medication just to lose weight.
Mental illness and accountability have a necessary relationship. At times, mental illness may contribute to bizarre, atypical or inappropriate behaviors, but it doesn't serve as an outright excuse for such acts. Taking responsibility for one's actions is critical to functioning in society, and mental illness does not diminish the significance of accountability.
My schizoaffective disorder makes it hard for me to clean my home. I do little things here and there, though. I regularly take out the garbage and the recycling and I do a bit of dusting. But it’s not enough. My apartment is still very messy. It’s messy to the point where my husband Tom and I don’t have people over. It’s really embarrassing to say to friends, “We can’t have you over because our apartment is too messy.” We just don’t invite friends over.
It's 3:00 a.m. and I can't sleep. I'm sitting in the commons area of an eerily quiet psychiatric hospitalization unit while I recover from a relatively severe psychotic break. I wasn't going to blog this week because, well, the obvious. On top of that, all I have is pen and paper, no Internet access. But my wife still managed to post this week despite taking me to the hospital and picking up the slack in my absence. It is good to emulate one's heroes and I can think of no greater hero than my wife. I just wish I were a little more like her. But I have to remember that psychiatric hospitalization does not denote weakness.