Senses or Schizophrenia

 

Senses or Schizophrenia 

Schizophrenia Bulletin, Volume 43, Issue 4, July 2017, Page 684, https://doi.org/10.1093/schbul/sbu192

My last appointment with my psychologist she showed me an article she found online. She seemed eager to see what my opinion was. I was able to read the first paragraph and then I tried to just skim what was on the page.

One thing I got from the article was that someone found the map of DNA in schizophrenia. I guess went away thinking maybe they are close to a cure. Also I thought Pharmacology will probably drag their feet with it so they can make more money off the patients suffering with the mental disorder.

My doctor was surprised I wasn’t as surprised as she was. The article was blurry and it was hard for me to understand. On a good day I would be able to understand. My doctor thought maybe I needed glasses. She handed me hers, and I put them on.

The article was even more blurred. I quickly took them off.

“You might need to make an eye appointment.”

“Could it be my schizophrenia?” I asked.

In her office a person can usually hear muffled talking and sometimes laughter outside or heavy door. I have been seeing my doctor long enough that she can read my eyes questioning if the voices are going on outside or are they actual voices that only I can hear in her small office.

Ever since I got a computer and the Internet, I tried to research my illness. I looked at science articles, first person accounts, and also schizophrenia poetry. Oddly enough it made me feel normal when I tried my best to understand. It made me feel normal like I wasn’t the only one feeling or going through this disorder.

Reading about other diagnoses made me equipped enough to realize mental health concerns all over in the art and entertainment industries. I don’t think they should be glorified but if you can make money educating by all means. I haven’t found a way to make money off of my disorder. However, I do enjoy when my first person’s accounts and poetry gets published.

When I can express myself for the mental health community it makes me feel very good about myself.

The unreal reality

Was told by a scream

Follow by applause

With a crooked smile

After what was like a stroke

I fell again skinning my knee

And wondered if my limbs were made of rubber

Sometimes I can’t stand

Sometime I stand eye to eye

With my own mirrored pupil

A sprinkled single tear

This could be my friend

Without a name

A neighbor without a door

Pet without hidden rage

We sleep

Hours and hours to avoid

Enemies with a voice

From the past

Still can’t understand

Why I hear it

From the last psycho-social breakdown

This poem is the symptoms of schizophrenia and side effects of the drug clozapine. Tuesdays are when I get blood work done and every 2 weeks get a shot of resperadal concentrate.

The unreal reality is blurred action that I know it isn’t going on behind the scenes.

At the end psycho-social breakdown isn’t a huge breakdown. I guess it is similar to a stroke where my joints feel like rubber and I fall.

 

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