My schizoaffective diagnosis came in 2002. This means I experience hallucinations, white-knuckle highs, and soul crushing lows simultaneously. I write this in the hopes that it can help others manage their own illness better.
The answers you get depend on the questions you ask. The answers you seek may require questions you’ve never considered.
I’m sharing my experiences in an effort to breakdown the stigma around mental illness. Everyone’s experience is different in some way. Share yours where you can. Your story might be the survival guide someone else needs.
In June of 1995. I was at my high school art show when a woman took a fancy to my drawing. She found a teacher and wanted to thank me personally for my piece. It was a baby in utero, in realistic detail, inside the sun. Truth be told, I smoked a lot of weed back then and it seemed like a cool idea. So, I drew it. She had just had a baby in February and it meant something special to her. I heard her talking to her husband, but he wouldn’t let her buy it. He looked irritated, while she looked awestruck. I had never struck a chord with my art, music, or writing. This felt good and I threw myself into art more than my other creative tendencies because of it. I thought it was a fluke. I was happily disproved.
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