My Daughters, My Doctors and God: My Three Pillars of Support

I am 49 years old. I was diagnosed with schizophrenia when I was 13. My parents thought I was just a troubled teen because I self harmed a whole lot and was violent. I tried to commit suicide when I was 14 by overdosing and was committed into a psychiatric adolescent unit in a state hospital. My parents left me there for 3 to 4 months without coming to visit me or calling to see how I was doing. Believe it or not I enjoyed being at the unit I felt like I belonged. It was there that I was diagnosed as schizophrenia.

I went back home and the same situations happened. I became very withdrawn and was experiencing very bad audio hallucinations and delusions to the point when my parents were sleeping I would sleep at the end of their bed once they were sleep. My parents ignored me (and had me committed on several occassions) and as a result I began to lock myself in my room and would not come out.

My mother sent me to my cousin’s home where I was sexually molested by a cousin and then my brother started sexually molesting me. Once again I went to self harm and suicide attempts. My parents ignored me even more to the point I would not tell them what was going on. I felt alone and that not one person cared to listen to me.

I was  placed in a foster home since my mother started physical and mentally abusing me and I became worse. My symptoms did not go away, they only became worse. I was not taking my meds and they were not given to me by my parents. I got married and had kids that were subject to domestic violence. Then I left my two daughters with their father and I left. I was always looking to belong somewhere. I went on to college and secured a professional job working in the department of psychiatry. I started taking care of my four daughters and married for a second time.

Then one day I started hearing voices and the hallucinations began. I would skip work and take time off. I would not pay my rent and let my family down. I would ignore the symptoms and would not tell anyone. They became more frequent so I went to the doctor however, I would not tell them what I was diagnosed as instead I told them I felt tired.Till one day I told my husband I felt very suicidal and he had me admitted.

It was at that point I was once again diagnosed with schizophrenia and this time with PTSD. I started taking my meds and went back to work. This time I was taking the medicine and was feeling good. I went back to work and acted like nothing had happened. I did not tell anyone what was wrong with me. I did not tell my husband. I disconnected myself from my parents since childhood and had nothing to do with any of my family members.

Once again I started feeling sick and this time it was worse to the point the voices started and I just could not focus. I became paranoid of everybody. I could not go to the grocery store or anywhere. I had to quit my job. I told them I had to take care of my sick child. The sick child was me.

To this day I have been admitted more times than I can count on my hand to psychiatric hospitals. Finally, I have accepted my diagnoses as schizophrenia and with PTSD. I try to attend as many groups as I can. I take my meds and take one day at a time.

A year ago I lost my supporter and it has been hard, however, I made a promise to this “special” person that I trusted that I would take care of myself. I miss this person very much. I have a good communication with my four daughters and four grandkids. I still do not have anything to do with my family, since they have a stigma against mental health.

My daughters understand my condition and support me. They encourage me to take my meds and take care of myself. One of my daughters is my caregiver since I was diagnosed with Parkinson’s in 2011. I am OK thanks to God, my daughters and my continued honest relationship with my doctors. I encourage anyone to get help and trust someone, be it family, spiritual or some organization. Most of all take your meds and trust your health professionals.