I came across a picture today that I think represents how I feel about my life lately. I really love this drawing done by an artist who also has schizoaffective disorder. It’s almost as if I could have manifest it myself, if I only had the same skill of expression through artwork.
As I saw it, the picture shows a face that is fractured, torn, suppressed, insane, malfunctioning, sick. There is a flower that grows out of the top of this face, its roots intertwined in the dilapidated illness of the mind.
And the more I looked at this drawing the more I felt I could relate to it. I felt it because I’ve been through the muck and the mire and I have died and been reborn. That flower, to me, represents hope, change, ambition, rebirth. It is rooted in the mess that is my mind. From a distorted bed of lies rises something new, something beautiful.
My life before the illness was without passion, ambition, direction. And it remained like that even through many years after the diagnosis. I have no doubt it would have stayed this way until I died, had it not been for the most traumatic thing that ever happened to me.
It’s hard to believe it happened six years ago, it still feels fresh as if it was a month ago. I was at the mall with my family, browsing in a jeans supply store. A man approached me and began asking strange questions. Even as I write this it is too much for me and I think I am not ready to go into details. I will just say that in the moment I thought he was there to murder me. I truly believed this to be true. I told my brother, who was with me while this man spoke to me, that I loved him, and goodbye. I accepted my coming death and waited for the gunshot.
My dad, who was waiting outside the store, saw that something strange was going on. He intervened and told the man to leave us alone. Even to this day with medication and perspective, I still think that if my dad hadn’t stepped in that this man would have murdered me.
In what seemed like my last moments on earth, it wasn’t just fear of death that shook me to my core. I mean, sure, death is fucking scary and it was most definitely a reason for me to be afraid. But it was the knowledge that I was going to die having never accomplished anything that really settled into my mind.
After this incident, I ended up holing up in my room, terrified of even going outside of my house. But there was this new fire in me, something that fought back. Something that said I have things I need to do with my life.
And so I began to venture outside of my comfort zones. I would go out into the yard for 5 minutes. And then I would go out in the driveway. And then I would go or a quick drive around the block. So on and so forth I built up my courage to go out for longer periods of time.
These days, I go out in public by myself for long periods of time. The fear is still there, and I don’t think it will ever go away. I have learned to be brave and to test my delusions. I’m still not perfect and I still have days when I cannot bring myself to go out in the world. But I am not stuck in my room, which I very well could have allowed myself to be forever.
I have learned so much about myself and my limits. Where I am weak and where I am strong. How to cope with hardship. How to survive depression. How to have hope when all seems to be falling down.
At the moment, I am building a business plan with a friend. We started over a year ago and had planned to open shop in 2018, but I had a minor relapse and things had to be postponed. This year we are back at it and our plans are stronger than ever. Soon we will be going to a workshop to learn how to make a professional business plan. Then we will be presenting that business plan to an organization to seek funding. We can start even without the extra funding, but it would make a big impact on getting going. So that is where our focus is.
Today, 9 years into having schizoaffective, I am the best version of myself that I have ever been. I have ambition and drive. I am passionate about becoming a better person. I am changing the things that have kept me down even before the illness. I am no longer nihilistic. I seek to make a difference in the world. I see growth in myself every few months. Even looking back at old blog posts I have made here, I know that I have changed as a person.
I still face depression and I still want to give up some days. I am quicker to respond to that negativity than I used to be even a year ago. I use life to inspire me. Just eight hours ago I was feeling hopeless and useless for the hundredth time this month. But I do not let those feelings sit with me for very long. I always push back. I find a way to overcome them. I look at how far I’ve come and that reminds me that there is still more left in me to fight. It will always be hard for me, and I accept that when I can. This is the adventure that is my life.
Our Depression 