The Anamorphic Eye; My Battle with Schizophrenia

Schizophrenia is a chronic, severe, and disabling brain disorder that affects about 1.1 percent of the U.S. population age 18 and older in a given year. Schizophrenia is a psychiatric diagnosis that describes a mental disorder characterized by abnormalities in the perception or expression of reality. Distortions in perception may affect all five senses, including sight, hearing, taste, smell and touch, but most commonly manifest as auditory hallucinations, paranoid, bizarre delusions, or disorganized speech and thinking with significant social or occupational dysfunction. Onset of symptoms typically occurs in young adulthood with approximately 0.4–0.6% of the population affected. Diagnosis is based on the patient's self-reported experiences and observed behavior. No laboratory test for schizophrenia currently exists.

To start off with I like to say that for the record I don’t exactly have schizophrenia but to put it into the words of my psychiatrist I have “depression with psychotic features”. This perhaps conveniently puts my diagnoses into a box and I for one am not sure if it should even be in this box to begin with. This is because as far has I know the symptoms have stopped for the most part about more than close to a year ago in the fall of 2008. This could be mostly due to the medication I am on or the fact that time acted like a healer for my psyche. As far as cases go with a disease like schizophrenia my case is pretty remarkable since I have few of the symptoms still remaining which compared to other cases could go on there whole lives and sometimes end in suicide. This is not to say that these symptoms could not re-serge in the future but I’m crossing my fingers and hoping it won’t. This piece that I am writing on has experiences and contains information I haven’t even told any of my family member until now.

I think the farthest I can see back to when I first notice symptoms was when I was 16 years old and still in high school. It was my sophomore year of high school and all I could remember was the feeling like my life was meant for something greater. I couldn’t explain it, I felt like for some out of this world reason I was destined to do something amazing. I don’t feel that way now but at the time I did. This feeling of mine had been with me my whole life but became prevalent when I became 16. I can’t tell you how or why I had come to that conclusion but this perception of mine eventually shown light on what later would become full-blown paranoia. At this time I had also became really interested in philosophy. I was asking questions concerning matters such as existence, knowledge, truth, law, justice, validity, how the mind operates, language, religion, and finally on morals and issues concerning good and evil. This questioning of existence had always been a part of me but came full circle now and it became something like an obsession of mine.

During this time I became fixed on how and why we as human beings existed and for what purpose. It in a way became my Holy Grail and I spent many sleepless nights on the Internet looking up literature and reading books on all kinds of philosophical problems and issues. I eventually became dishearten with the search and concluded that life had no meaning and things like good and evil were all just subjective figments of our own imagination. This questioning ironically also led to a compulsion to find meaning and connections in everything I saw and perceived. And this habit led to what might remind people of the “Matrix” or “The Truman Show” I began questioning everything and everyone around me, and their intentions towards me. I asked question like what if this world I lived in was all in my mind or was I in god’s mind? Was I on a TV show where everyone was watching my every action or was I in some kind of computer program where all my actions were pre determined? I became so suspicious of everyone’s actions I even questioned my own family and friends. Were they in on it? How could they lie to me! Every time I saw a van outside of my house I thought it was someone they’re spying on me making sure I didn’t escape or suddenly fine out I was all in some kind of game. I mean it wasn’t like I didn’t try to be objective and say that my suspicious are not grounded and based upon facts. I even at the time was looking up things like Schizophrenia on the Internet and see if my symptoms matched what I read online.

This suspicion of mine became my secret and I didn’t want any one to know, of fear that they might think badly of me or think I’m insane. This secret of mine slowly festered like tumor slowly growing deep within my psyche until it was ready to explode. It exploded years later when I was 19 and tried to commit suicide by stabbing myself with a knife. Here is what happened on that faithful night. It was the night of my dad’s celebration, he was celebrating his band and their creation of their new album and the parties acted like a farewell of sorts. I was dressed all in black wearing work clothes I had from the time I was working at the Cliff House a restaurant located in the Manitou Springs area in Colorado. I was working at the party as a server with my cousin Kyle and his girlfriend who were there also working as servers too.

During the party all I could think about was the deed to be done and what I thought was expected of me. That night I was searching for the strength to go on with at the time, what I thought had to be done. I asked my brother David if I should do it or not, but I told him in an encrypted way as to not allow him to know what was going on. As at the time he didn’t know of the issues that I was fighting with. He did his best to answer my question to the best of his ability and current knowledge of the situation. I don’t remember what exactly he said but I think I put my own spin on it and believe that it reassured me of what was to be done. A few hours in, my father said that we weren’t needed any more and were allowed to go about our business. I headed to my room and decided to go on the Internet and search of ways to kill myself. As I was searching I look for the most effective way to kill myself but instead made my choice based on what was the most easily assessable way to kill myself. After the party I waited for every one to leave and headed down stairs to the kitchen and found a Chef's knives. I went back up stairs and made emotional preparation for what was to come next. I went to the bathroom and gazed into the mirror. I open up my bottomed shirt and saw the alpine white glow of my pasty white skin. I watched my self in the mirror as I held the knife up to my chest and tried to gather the strength to plugged 8 inches of steel into my chest.

Holding the knife I forced the blade into my flesh and experienced the most extremely sharp pain I have ever felt. I fell to the flour and leaned against the wall with my feet out. I watched as crimson blood flowed out from my lower chest and dripped across my belly from side to side. I was too scared and feared the pain of another attempt with the knife to finish me off so I decided to head into the shower to see if the water could keep myself bleeding long enough to die of blood loss and to stop the blood from coagulating. Their lying on the bottom of the shower as water poured over me. The fear of dying really hit me and I was to weak to try another attempting with the knife again so I gave up and decide to go too bed, knife wound and all. The next morning I woke up and headed down stairs were I told my father I had a problem with my heart and needed to go to the hospital. He agreed and we took his car and started a drive towards the hospital. During the car ride their I told him the truth and that I attempt suicide with a knife.

When we arrived at the hospital we went to the emergency ward and signed in. I don’t remember what happened next but I remember going to a room were they laid me down at this bed and was cleaning the wound with disinfectants and stitching it up with suchers. All I know is that my dad had called my mom and she made her way to the hospital. After they patched me all up and did an ultra sound they sent me to a place to get an MRI scan to see if any vital organs were hurt. Thankfully I thought this didn’t kill me at the time because I found out later during the stay at the hospital that the knife only went in my chest 2 inches, just penetrating the fat area and just missing my heart. After that they sent me up to a room with a view that was to great to even express in words. There my dad and mom comfort me, but what I remember most was when my mom had her arm around while I slept at night. From there on out I stayed there for two whole days before they sent me to Cedar Springs Behavioral Health place (Which is a mental hospital of sorts in which they rehabilitate people with different emotional problems.).

When I arrive there I felt like my whole life had collapsed and was pretty much vacant of my body. I mean words can explain the way I felt, I believe I had failed god and his intended purpose for me. To what that all was I will get too later in the story. There at the Cedar Springs they worked to rehabilitate me and the others who were there, with daily regiments of medication and group meetings. The type of people that were there ranged from soldiers who had traumatic experiences from war to abused women who had bad relationships. This one guy who was there because he was a cutter and wore this long glove that wore like a sleeve to hid his cuts from being seen. This other kid was there because he too had tried to commit suicide a series of times before. During the time I was there which lasted a couple of weeks I remember what exited me the most was when my mom, dad, brother and step-mother all came to visit me and brought gifts to make me feel better. Beside that my days spent there were pretty boring and uneventful. Though I had fail to commit suicide the thought of it still remained with me and I even considered trying to drown my self in the bathroom. But the fear of death kept me at bay and for the rest of my time there I kept to myself and went along with what I was instructed to do.

You see at the time of the incident I wasn’t trying to kill myself for the typical reasons. I wasn’t depressed, I didn’t lose a love one or suffer some kind of tragedy or even hated the world I lived in. To tell the truth I was scarred and didn’t really want to die, but at the time I felt I was called upon to serve a higher purpose. What higher purpose was I serving you may ask and what does killing my self have anything to due with a higher purpose? Well you have to take a look into my mental process at the time and for that we have to go back a few mouths. See approximately 3 months back I began hearing knocking sounds coming from different objects and furniture. I didn’t mind it at first but it became more and more prevalent as time went on. I wasn’t sure what was the sound was and even though this might not seem significant to other people it just stood out to me. It happened so much and so frequently that it was hard not to pay attention. During this time I had also started hearing voices in my head. These voices were a low sort of whispering and commented on everything I did and commented on me as a person. The voices were very negative and hurtful and said things about me that struck the core of my being. They relentlessly picked me apart and picked any detail of my personality to scrutinize. This lasted for months, day in and day out they talked about me as if I were their whipping post. I wasn’t sure If what was talking to me were spirits, demons, angles, my own thoughts, whatever but they just would not stop. It was an on going conversation with these creatures that went on and on. I wasn’t sure of the reason why I could here them, I thought maybe I was psychic and possessed some unique ability to hear thoughts. I even at time thought I could here my own mom’s thoughts and feelings.

To say the least, it was a truly mind blowing experience. To think I posses some kind of psychic ability was cool beyond belief. I even at times tried to tune my abilities into other areas of psychic phenomenon. Like for instance I tried to use telekinesis to make objects like pens move. It as you might expected did not work out as planned but I still did not give up.. I maybe spent at least a half an hour every day in attempting to make certain objects move. I tried objects that were progressively lighter and lighter but to no avail. I eventual did give up but my belief in telepathy was slowly growing. What ever it was talking to me, Be it some kind of outside influence or just my own thoughts I thought I need to get to the bottom of this and I had to ask the Cliché question “How far down the rabbit hole do you want to go?”

After a while of hearing these voices speak to me they began calling me a name for which I will never forget. They started to call me by the name “Michael”. I at the time didn’t know what Michael was or who he is. I did have the thought that Michael was the archangel in the bible. You know the angel who is supposed to led the army of god in the time of Armageddon, that Michael. Well the reason I thought this was the same Michael was I thought had something to do with things that had a religious undertone like angels and demons because they were I thought speaking to me. Besides I didn’t know of any other Michael that had to do with the bible. Anyway as I was listening to these things talk about me, they said that I needed to give up my life. For what reason I asked they said because they needed Michael soul to be used during the end time. The reason I couldn’t stay alive was that my body or vessel was keeping his soul from going into heaven. You see it wasn’t that I was Michael per-se but it was that I possessed Michael’s soul. They needed the soul so that god could start Armageddon and Michael would led the army of god against the forces of evil and Satan.

As the days went by and the conversation went on with these creatures I learned or thought I learned that these creatures who were talking to me were doing it on the grounds of a order from god or was what they wanted me to think. To put it into perspective, ironically I was an agnostic. To hear that god was asking for my life was just plain crazy. I mean even all of the religious undertones of what was happening at the time was something that shook the foundation of my being. I mean god the big man himself was calling me to do his work here on earth. I mean maybe not me personally but Michael’s soul was in my body and with out me his soul could not be released. What you might ask is well if god wanted Michael soul to return to heaven why do I have to kill myself? Why can’t he find a way to kill me himself? Well that was something I struggle with to grasp, I thought in the end it had to boil down to the whole free will thing and that he was respecting my choice as a human being. Another question you may ask is why was Michael’s soul in my body to begin with? I think it boils down to god allowing angels to live the lives of human beings and experience what the creatures they so often serve experience.

The after math of what happened to me was that I returned to my “normal” life. I was put on medication that treated the psychotic symptoms of my disease. Manly the medication I was on and still on included Fluoxetine (Prozac) an anti-depressant and I have been switching meds on and off with Geodon and Zyprexa which are both anti-psychotics. The only remaining symptoms I have experienced to this day is a deficiency in my mental process which I don’t know is to be contributed to my disease or the medication I’m on and the general weight gain that accompanies people who take drugs like Zyprexa. I am today going to college and studying a degree in electrical engineering. My life at this point is pretty normal considering and plus I have a optimist outlook as to what the future holds. That’s pretty much my story, thank you for reading I hope you have in a way experienced what I have gone through. See ya.