Recovery is not only a possibility, but it can be a reality. From the age of three my life was turned upside down. Having had an abusive alcoholic father, a mother who was a perfectionist, and being sexually abused as a young child, all combined to create a great strain on my psyche. Although they were not the cause of my illness, I believe them to be contributing factors. I have four sisters all whom are very well established in their careers and families. They are an inspiration to me. My mother and daughter Ashley were the only one’s who stood by me during the acute part of the illness and for this I am eternally thankful.

As an adult I worked as a scrub technician in labor and delivery for five years, after which I worked for another two years in a mental health clinic. I was fired from both jobs after being misdiagnosed with epilepsy. I took a volunteer job at a University in Texas and did research in neuroscience on the mouse spinal cords for about five years until I became too ill to work. This was very disappointing for me to have to leave something I loved more than anything I had ever had the privilege to be apart of. I was back to where my life had been leading me since childhood. Lost.

As a child I was very sensitive to environmental stimuli, that being anything that caused me to react in a specific manner. I experienced things such as the light becoming very bright or extremely dim when there was nothing occurring to create this type phenomenon. At other times the ground would begin to move upwards or downwards making it hard to keep my balance. I experienced déjà vu on a daily basis. I believed that aliens had implanted a device in to my brain to monitor my every move. I was very paranoid-- always thinking people were watching me or out to harm me in some way. My world was not a normal child’s experience. I did have happy times though. As a young teenager I would pass out once, maybe twice a month. No one seemed to really notice though or take any action until I was about twenty years old when I was mistakenly diagnosed with epilepsy. Even being heavily medicated for seizures, I continued to experience bazaar perceptions and paranoia to the extreme. It is worth noting that at one point I was taking up to twenty- five pills a day for the seizures. At about the age of twenty- six, I was hospitalized for the seizures. I was given a video EEG, was taken off all medications very abruptly. I laid catatonic for two weeks having had my first psychotic break in front of someone with the knowledge to spot what the culprit was. After being treated for epilepsy for about five years my new diagnoses would be schizoaffective disorder. I would be hospitalized many times after this first diagnosis. At times I was hospitalized for the schizophrenia and other times for severe depression. For the rest of what I would say was twenty years or so, I was like a zombie. I was put on drugs such as Resperidol, Haldol, Halcion, Clozaril, Paxil, Zolof and many others. A side effect of the Clozaril I was to gain 247lbs and become a severe diabetic having to take insulin, glyberide, actos and glucophage. For twenty years, I felt no emotion, barely could keep a conversation going, slept most of the day, and I don’t believe I cried even one time during this period. I was simply a zombie. I continued to have a close relationship with the only person that I thought could understand me, and that was my God. I have a very strong faith. I managed to make the drastic move to Oklahoma from Texas and of course this meant a new Doctor. I was, at this point, destitute. I would have to go to a public mental health clinic-- no more private doctors for me. I was afraid to go into the Mental Health Clinic for many reasons, but to my surprise, they were all very cordial. My new psychiatrist would be a lady doctor named Jenny Boyer. Dr. Boyer was the first doctor to realize that I did not have epilepsy. She worked with me for many months trying to stabilize me because I continued to hear voices and be very paranoid on the clozaril. I remember hearing voices come from the cracks in the wall or from the fan blowing. The voices would talk badly about me-- saying things about how fat I was and watch me constantly commenting on my actions. The voices were very bothersome and frightening. Dr. Boyer worked with me and spent many times just talking with me; she treated me like I was somebody special. I believe Dr. Boyer knew she could help me if she could just find the right medication. She took a big step and suggested that we might try a newer drug called Abilify. It was a miracle drug for me. Dr. Boyer slowly added the new drug and decreased the clozaril. I had to continue having my blood drawn every two weeks. I began having severe diarrhea-- sometimes thirteen times a day-- because of the clozaril trying to get out of my system. This went on for four months. I begged for Dr. Boyer to put me back on some clozaril and she very firmly said I could do it for a little longer, to just hold on. It was soon after the diarrhea stopped that I came back to life again. I began to talk non- stop; I just couldn’t be quiet! I began to take special interest in my appearance and the way I acted. I cared for the first time in years to brush my hair and be clean. The voices and paranoia seemed to vanish in a very short time. To top things off, I lost eighty pounds in that four month period and the diabetes just mysteriously went away on it’s own. I no longer had to take medication for the seizures and I quit smoking for the first time in almost twenty years. My Aunt said that it was like she was living next door to the movie “Awakenings”. I was back from never-never land. I had made a choice to get better on this new drug with the assistance of a very special woman doctor. I believe one must make a conscious choice to recover from schizophrenia. It is a matter of will. If one believes they will always be sick, they will forever remain sick. If on the other hand you believe there is hope, then recovery is a plausible result.

I am now in the process of returning to work, hopefully in the mental health field where my life has brought me, possibly doing some writing or speaking. I would also like to put myself in a position to do research once again. I have completed Rehab and am now trying to get back my drivers license (taken form me when ever I was misdiagnosed with epilepsy). I am in the process of writing a book about recovery from schizophrenia. I have also begun therapy with Jana Lynch, a psychologist who is sensitive to my issues and has helped me to learn to set boundaries and make peace with my past. I have married a wonderful man who also has schizophrenia (and a full time job). I have a wonderful daughter from a previous marriage named Ashley Anne. Ashley has stood buy me through it all and I give her all the praise, along with Dr. Boyer, my husband Steve, my friends and my faith in God.
 
Without a strong faith, wonderful doctors, my daughter Ashley, Steve and a deep desire to educate myself about schizophrenia I do not know that I would have become so recovered. It took them all. I am a picture of being fully human, fully functional and fully alive. So you see, recovery is possible-- because after twenty years I have my life back. So to you I say, please don’t give up on your family member, yourself or your patient. There is life with schizophrenia.

I would also like to add that I would not trade my experience of schizophrenia in any way, because it has made me the person God intended for me to be. Kim, fully whole and at peace. So, embrace the schizophrenia, educate yourself and become proactive in educating others. And remember,” when the storm gets too rough, like the eagle, rise above it.”

At thirty years old I was a very confused and disturbed individual. I felt totally lost and without hope for a while. I have written a book of poems and would like to share one of them with you.

UNTITLED
The self had not a dwelling
The self had not a home.
The self had chains a binding
The self was kept boxed, wrapped and closed.
The self…given the chance…Broke bonds of never ending neglect.
The self…
Reaching out, In mortal horror and shock…
Felt hands…The tips…
Making contact…
Locked.
The self…
With a tear…Dropped
Entered into itself…
Unlocked.
 

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