When I was 27 I knew something wasn’t right about me. I went to a doctor, secretly, and was told I had schizoaffective disorder. That means bipolar and schizophrenia. I was on meds for about two months and lost my job when they found out. Stigma at its worst. I totally denied having this. I was just too young. When I turned thirty four it reared its ugly head again. I didn’t know who to tell or what to say.
One day I decided to run down the street in my pajamas – I still don’t know why. I was hospitalized over and over until I got on the right meds. I’ve had eight serious suicide attempts due to stigma mainly and the fact that I didn’t want to live like this anymore.
I gave up on suicide. It just wasn’t my time. I take my meds. I have a good Doctor which is half the battle. I live one moment at a time. My meds only do so much. I have to control my environment and keep negative people out of my life and haters. My adult son lives with me and he’s seen me do a lot of “in my own world” things. He doesn’t understand it. I don’t expect him to. I wouldn’t understand it either if this hell didn’t happen to me.
I don’t think about suicide anymore. I just brush the stigma off. I have renewed my faith in Jesus and try to do church activities, but sometimes it is hard when you can’t be dependable. I have to give a shout out to my parents who are so understanding and supportive. I believe the Lord sent me four good friends with the same illness. Maybe I will find a husband like me but I am used to being isolated and not getting out much.
Peace to you all and keep your heads up. You’re just as good as anyone else.