Schizophrenia 101: Alternate Reality and Me - How Not to Live a Nightmare

Ever wonder what it's like to be a paranoid schizophrenic? I would assume that the answer is no. Nobody wonders because either they have never encountered such an individual or because they are frightened, dismayed, uncomfortable, and generally someone they wish they weren't when a schizophrenic type comes rolling into town with his imaginary card games and fishing trips. So, no, very few people, even those who console or otherwise further the sanity of a raving, ranting, honest-to-god unpredictable paranoid type ever want to actually get inside of their heads.

Why the generalities? I'm allowed to generalize. One, because I've been through about everything a paranoid schizophrenic can be through without actually dying from it and, two, I've been hospitalized more times than you can count on you fingers. I am not joking, nor am I smiling when I write this. I've been in and out of psychiatric wards, medical hospitals and, yes, the big bad taboo county lockup in a heavily populated urban area. Those were not what I would call the salad years.

You might have noticed a pattern in the structure of my grammar, punctuation, syntax, and the like by now. Simply put, I ramble (or rant--the choice is yours). This is simply a function of the way my brain is wired. I've decided to type this piece up at this very specific moment for a very specific reason. The reason is this: this is an aspect of my mental illness. The neural webs that my brain has strung together over the years seem to have no boundaries. Let me give you an example, instead of exemplifying.

Let's assume that you tell me that you saw a zebra while visiting the zoo. Next, let's assume that I am in a full-blown paranoid panic. The first thing I might think about your statement, and about zebras in general, is that they have stripes. Obvious enough, don't you think? Harmless as well. However, the zebra's stripes might then serve as a reminder that some suits have stripes as well. Not at all akin to zebra stripes, mind you, but this rather valid mental override would be swiftly dismantled by the paranoia.

As I continue to think of the suits that have stripes, I may realize that they are called 'pin-striped suits'. Furthermore, pin-striped suits were, as far as I know, popular in the nineteen-thirties of the latter century. Finally it might dawn upon me that a certain covert organization, the FBI, was founded in the nineteen-thirties. And then of course it all goes straight to hell, because anyone who's paranoid, in my experience, seems to be at least a little paranoid when concerning the FBI. Especially when you verbally manufacture and falsify evidence against yourself at every given opportunity.

By the by, I have been terrified of secret organizations off and on for the last eight years (since I developed this debilitating illness)--especially the ones that don't exist. They scare me more than a room full of FBI men pretending to be your friends. Here's a secret when dealing with a schizophrenic: he or she may or may not be thinking about any scenario that you have ever thought about, as well as a cornucopia of scenarios that would never even claim a single fact in your brain. This is because most of the facts are fictions.

Put simply, schizophrenics have great imaginations. Unfortunately, unlike when you're eight, imagination is not so fun. Especially when it involves the terrifying depths of your worst nightmares gone on parade in your waking life. Now that's more fun than a barrel of monkeys! Just think. What if, instead of having to forget about those damned deep-sleep nightmates that take place, instead--you have been granted the unimaginable fortune of REMEMBERING AND LIVING OUT every single one of the things.

Here's the part where I complain a little. You may stop reading now. Or you can continue to read and find out that I was once a regular joe with a regular life. I had a happy childhood, played sports, read many books, enjoyed the company of friends and girlfriends, was not afraid to stick my head outside of the door, was employed at times, attended school, went camping, didn't have to take pills that only slightly flatten the emotional rollercoaster I ride upon, and was not stuck in the ass with needles longer than your index finger to keep me from 'becoming manic' (which is pyscho-babble for a mentally ill person who exhibits some degree of happiness and enthusiasm). Oh yeah, I forgot to mention getting railroaded by the legal system and nearly suffering lasting brain damage in jail. Don't worry, I think I escaped with merely a chipped tooth. Seriously, how much more damaged can my brain become anyway? I bought into religion for god's sakes!

Okay, so now you get the idea that this is a big, bad scary twenty-headed hydra of a monster for those who suffer from it. And in that group, I of course include those persons who have watched me self-destruct a thousand million times in their presence. Yes, it's true: you can lose a lot of friends if you have fates wove the schizophrenia thread into your rope. This seems important to me, but I'm told that it's not. I'm still not sure whether this is just what I need to hear, or whether its the truth.

The fact about friends and this particular mental illness can be summed up by the old addage, "you find out who your real friends are rather quickly". It's like a weeding out process that I never asked for. Or maybe it's more like pruning. Either way, it can be painful when people you've known for ten or more years cease to return your phone calls for whatever presumable legitimate emotional reason they have for doing so.

Yes, life can be enough sometimes to send you to the hospital with an intentional overdose or two if you're not a careful schizophrenic (which, actually, may be an oxymoron in some ways). This next section is meant specifically for those who suffer as I do--from a chronic, debilitating mental illness (notice I did not say disease). Anyway, my intent in writing this article is to help you, my fellow schizophrenic, to keep from doing things that I refuse to mention for fear of planting them in your head. This is because, as a schizophrenic, you are highly suggestible. If someone mentioned a blue hat a few days ago in 'the wrong context', you might just concoct a scenario involving a blue hat for no other reason than it's became part of the way your mind.

Okay, now for the truly important thing to remember if you're a schizophrenic. DON'T PANIC! Panic, for most people leads to things like stress and last minute work frenzies and generally surviving due to an hormonal system that is set up for 'fight or flight'. Most people, when confronted with this perfectly normal reaction of the adrenal gland will neither fight the person standing next to them, nor will they run screaming into the woods. You, however, being a schizophrenic will likely try the first and, if you escape the consequences of that fiasco, you will commence with running into the woods. God only knows what you'll do there. So, if you feel yourself starting to panic, take a tranquilizer (which should be presrcribed by your psychiatrist).

If you are without a psychiatrist, then I find moderate quantitites of alchohol will achieve a similar effect. And no, I am not encouraging alcoholism here. I have not had to resort to this method for some time, as I have had a psychiatrist that listens (and it is important to find one that listens--VERY important) for over a year now. A word of advice: if your psychiatrist prescribes you medications that make you feel worse than you did before--find a new one. They're all just guessing as to what will work, as God or nature (whatever the case may be) has seen fit to make each and every schizophrenic respond differently to each and every medication ever manufactured. Anyway, some are better listeners than guessers.

You want a listener.

It should be noted that, while moderate quantities of alcohol may serve to quash the rebellion in your head temporarily--this is by no means a long-term solution to the problem. And, for the love of Pete, NEVER TAKE STREET DRUGS! Almost every street drug, with the exception of heroin, has the potential to make normal people paranoid and cause them to hallucinate. If this is what you want, then I suppose that's your avenue. Just remember that it's not going to be a warm cudddly feeling replete with fuzzy bunnies and gumdrops--unless the gumdrops are plotting to kill you, of course. As for heroin--well, need I even need say anymore than the name? Let's try it again: HEROIN. Bet you didn't like reading that word, even if you're on heroin. That's a different subject, however, and one that I am unfamiliar with personally. I'm just extrapolating here and guessing that you don't want to be a schizophrenic heroin addict.

Remember, there are good things in life, you certainly don't want to lose sight of those things. If you've recently developed the disease, then, if you're reading this, you've probably read it all wrong. Again, I refuse to use an illustrative example, for your sake. But know this much: IT WILL GET BETTER. It just takes time. I've been chipping away at this monolith of a problem for eight years, and I have obviously, if nothing else, become familiar with the way in which my brain works. Here are some words of wisdom from my father: "You only know what your brain is telling you."

Which brings me to the next point. When you're lucid enough, keep up with your friends (the ones that haven't jumped ship). People in your peer group that have known you for a good amount of time are likely to learn ways to calm you down. All it takes is a phone call. A cellular phone is a must, if you can afford it. Just remember not to call the ones who gave up. It only makes them feel even worse.

I can't tell you how many times a phone call has saved me. In general, keep in touch with anyone that truly knows who you are--as long as they're not manipulators (which you may run into). Personally, I don't trust anyone I didn't know before I developed schizophrenia--but maybe you won't have to go to that extreme. I've just been burned a few times by some deplorable people.

Just remember, human beings adapt. It's what we do. And, thankfully, we live in a very promising age for people such as myself. Possibly the best thing I've ever read in a newspaper was consisted of a few paragraphs (a foot-note of sorts) factually stating that scientists have finally isolated the gene that causes schizophrenia. Oh frabjuous day!

This foot-note, which I have neither seen nor heard any more of since shouting my own personal "Calloo and Callay!", means the following: there is, in all likelihood, a cure for schizophrenia in the works. I'm an optimist, so I'd like to think that it's advent will occur within my lifetime. If not, then I'm comforted by the following: considering the practices implemented by the mental asylums of the nineteen-fifties and before, there really is no where to go but up from here. So don't panic--help is on the way.

In the meantime, if you're happen to be mentally ill, just take it as a chance to get to know your personality a little better. Your persona is still there, it's just likely buried under layers of obfuscation. And for those of you who have watched a loved go through this terrifying transformation that schizophrenics experience--stick with your buddy, significant other, family member, etc.--if you can. Not everyone has this ability.

Of course, having just read this entire article (if that's what you've done), you stand a good chance of becoming at least somewhat functional or helping your loved one to recover, not because I am an all-knowing sage; rather, you've invested time into learning more about this illness. More importantly, you've shown that you must at least care about this new person that you met ten years ago. And that's what it takes to battle schizophrenia: care and caring. So, don't worry so much--you've already fought half the battle.