Losing My Illusions

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.

I was 23 when mental illness overtook me. I am schizophrenic like my father before me. But, even with a lifetime of observing the mental illness I would one day develop, I had no idea what I was dealing with when it first presented itself.

My doctors put me in a cognitive therapy program. Basically, the idea is to change your perspective regarding the things you cannot change. The first step, the foundation of this school of thought, is to accept life for what it is.

However, I immediately discovered I am not the accepting type. If I find something distasteful, problematic, or disgusting, I always have tried to change it. The result was that I kept spinning my gears trying to change what could not be changed. My mind rebelled uncontrollably against the plain reality of my life.

Crises after crises followed.

I battled drugs, alcohol, and toxic relationships both platonic and romantic. All because I could not simply accept my life for what it was. I had a lesson to learn. Which is why I kept cycling through the same situations, merely decorated with different faces and places.

I didn’t move in the necessary direction for growth because I am wise, I moved in that direction when I was so broken down it was the only direction left to move in. See, a lobster grows a new shell only when it is in so much pain its choice is to grow or die. Pain is often the result of growth. It is also often the impetus for growth.

I am now and have always been stubborn. Like a rebellious stallion. But, much like horses, sometimes people must be broken to reach their full potential. It’s not pretty. It’s not ideal. It’s arguably immoral. But, it remains a hard truth.

Schizophrenia broke me down over the years. Seeing personal attacks where there were none. Oblivious to personal attacks that were real. Hearing voices. Watching news anchors tell me the government was spying on me. Watching episodes of TV shows that were purely figments of my imagination. Watching friendships wither, rot, and fall away.

It all took its toll. Imagine feeling every crimgeworthy thing you ever did, said, or wrote all at once. Imagine feeling the brunt of every malicious word or deed across your entire life in one single moment and then having that moment of overwhelming horror stretch out for hours, days, and weeks. It hurts to exist.

In those moments I didn’t want to die, I wanted to never have existed. Suicide was only second best, barely acceptable, but acceptable nonetheless.

The lesson I had to learn was that acceptance is not the same as agreement. It is not approval, it is not a sanction of the state of your life but a full scale realization of where you are at and how you got there. It is not a matter of placing blame or giving credit for the situation.

I had to take inventory of my entire life. Firstly, I had to take responsibility. It was slow progress at first. I was in and out of psychwards, 4 times in 11 years. More than some, less than most with my diagnosis.

I took steps forward and plenty more back. But once I learned how to truly accept my life, my mind, and my history for what it was without judgement, or bias, or agenda, I was able to make serious progress.

I haven’t been in a psychward in 7 years. I have been married for 9. I’ve been employed fulltime for 6. Only after learning to accept my life for what it was was I able to alter my life’s course. These are not extraordinary accomplishments. But, the features of an ordinary life done in extraordinary circumstances are still something worth mentioning to me.

Nothing I have accomplished was possible until I let go of what I cannot control, what I cannot change, and all my precious, flowery, and poisonous illusions.

I had to watch as the fragile facade I had so lovingly constructed to comfort myself came tumbling down like the walls of Jericho when I finally faced the music.

Letting go of illusions is the first step of self-realization. Self-realization is the first step to self-actualization. Once you get there, you can go anywhere. No one ever started from scratch. Everyone came from somewhere. Every country has history. You must start wherever you are. The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.