In the span of a month I changed. Dramatically changed. I was someone that was outgoing and social and I stopped talking. I stopped doing other things to, like showering. I look back at that time and realize that I just stopped caring. This apathy is actually a symptom of schizophrenia. I stopped doing anything at work, although I still went. I stopped doing much with my ex-wife, even though I loved her. I stopped talking to my friends, my family, really everyone. I became completely isolated and alone.
Twords the end of this I started noticing new realities. People had these inner colors, not auras, they had these colors that only I could intone. My feeling about someone ranged from black to green. I started having memories, terrible memories of my mom not feeding me when I was little. I believed that people were entering my house while I was away. That my ex-wife was conspiring against me to cause everyone to act strangely twords me.
It wasn't until the outright hallucinations started that I went to the hospital. My ex-wife had begged me to seek treatment earlier. I didn't want to be there and insisted that I was fine. After a three day observation period, I was discharged with a diagnosis of psychosis. I shrugged it off, telling myself that they were looking for a reason to justify holding me for three days.
I wound up in the hospital again less than a month later. This time my behavior was far from ordinary. I sat in my room at all times by myself. My psychiatrist not really thinking anything was wrong with me. I was given a comprehensive psychological profile - An intelligence test, the Roarsharch, thematic tests, personality inventories, and the MMPI. I was started on abilify and discharged with a followup appointment in a month with a new psychiatrist. I was also placed in an intensive outpatient group.
This was my first experience with antipsychotics, and it was a valuable lesson. I developed akathesia, crippling akathesia. I couldn't sleep more than four hours a night. I had to pace at all times. There was this constant feeling of anxiety - I had never known anxiety before in my life. I called the psychiatrist I had an appointment with and he couldn't see me any sooner. I turned to the internet and learned that it was a result of the abilify and I stopped taking it.
This lead to a second hospitalization because a week later I started hearing a voice telling me to kill myself. I told the group therapist, and I was promptly admitted inpatient. This time, the psychiatrist had the results of the psychological profile and was much more aggressive in treating me. I quickly found myself taking 10mg of zyprexa, which quieted the voices. It also gave me a ravenous appetite. I would eat boxes and boxes of raisin bran. I was eventually discharged.
I tried to go back to work and it didn't work out. I had a very customer oriented position, and had major issues with socialization. After a week it was obvious that it wasn't working out and I gave up and resigned. It was probably for the best, because I started learning about another aspect of schizoaffective disorder.
Negative symptoms set in big time. My hair became long and matted, I didn't shower for over a month. I did literally nothing all day. I didn't even watch TV. My psychiatrist's response was to increase the amount of Zyprexa I was taking as I continued to experience hallucinations. I wound up sleeping 14 hours a day because of the medication, and eating constantly when I wasn't sleeping. I kept talking about how I was going to get a new job, but it was really just talk. The people around me probably thought it was another delusion. I was in no shape to work, and this led to the next phase of my illness.
My Ex-Wife was a graduate student with a small stipend. She didn't earn much money, so she decided that I would apply for disability. The application process went smoothly, and within two months I got an award letter. I am still torn about this because I can't decide if it was a good thing or a bad thing. It was definitely good at the time as it alleviated the financial burden on my ex wife, but now five years later I wonder how much of still being on disability is my illness, and how much is my life being good enough due to the size of my disability check. This will be the subject of a later blog post.
This was my lowest point, and then finally I started to recover.
