The reaction: stuck in psychosis pt. 4
I’ll never forget the day my dad told me if I didn’t stop, he’d take me to the hospital. It was early on, and at the time, we had no idea what was going on. I had just started to verbalize my delusions, and I was voicing them as if they were fact. At the time, I felt a flutter of panic. Why was he saying that? Little did I know, he was the first one whose mind went there. Something wasn’t right, and it was mental. At the time, my mom’s stare hadn’t changed yet. She wasn’t my power of attorney yet. She had no idea what was coming. When you’re the one in psychosis, it’s like you live on your own private island and you throw away all of the letters your loved ones send you. The belief is there, but what about the reaction?
There’s no right way to respond when someone loses their mind. My family may seem like pros but it took years to get there. In the beginning, no one knows how to react, and reactions differ as time goes on. I want to be clear, my family could not have done any better than they did. Personally, I think they were perfect, and I’m here today because of them. But in the beginning? All I can remember is the concern in their eyes. They were all on board and I had seven family members at my first virtual appointment in treatment. Everyone got to say their piece, and I think we all hoped that treatment would be enough, but we had years before I’d become fully stable again.
My family protected me a lot from the outside world. They took my phone so no one knew that I was delusional. They got me to a psychiatrist quickly. My first diagnosis, OCD, came fast (even though it probably wasn’t the most pressing one). Treatment for OCD is hopeful, and I think they all let out a sigh of relief. But I was hiding a lot and I was still in psychosis, and so more episodes came. One Thanksgiving, the police were called and I was taken to the psych ward for the first time. They diagnosed me with PTSD and got me into a fancy inpatient PTSD program. The doctors there told my family about bipolar disorder and I was diagnosed with Type I with psychotic features later on.
I’m ashamed to say at some point, I became selfish. I was consumed. It’s all I ever thought about. My relationships struggled. It felt like it had all become about me, and even though no one ever told me that, I felt ashamed that I could not focus on anything else. It ruled the conversations I had and with my parents, that was alright, but with my siblings, there should have been more than just that. My parents devoted themselves to me and I know they would do it all over again if they had to. With everyone else, I just felt distance. Friends asked what they could do but that question always felt empty. I didn’t feel like I had anyone and it breaks my own heart to think about how abandoned I felt at that time. As I got better, relationships became easier, and I finally had something to offer back to my loved ones again.
My extended family kind of finds the delusions I had to be comical. My nuclear family finds none of it comical, but I like to laugh about it with everyone else. Sometimes I come across a journal that I wrote in during psychosis and it still shocks me. I always wonder what people would think if they read it and I always keep it for a future documentary. I’ll never be able to forget the way everyone looked at me during psychosis. But it’s just been just as powerful to watch their gazes finally relax.
Xoxo
