Unfortunately, it is just so that Schizophrenia carries the most stigma, and people fear it because people will always fear that which they don’t understand. In this article, I hope to bring more clarity to this destroyer of the human spirit and bring more clarity to those without Schizophrenia.
This piece of poetry is dedicated to Pastor Theuns Blom, who stood headstrong with me, living with Schizophrenia for the past 27 years.
Truth. What is truth? Who decides truth or reason? This has taken me on a journey, painfully, both bitter and sweet.
The tone of this article is not to discourage you or your family. Yes, you will have your bitter days, but then you will also have your sweet days, giving you some kind of relief.
Schizophrenia is a life changer; you will never be the same again, but to a degree, there is also sweetness to it, days when you are symptom-free. I have survived to tell my tale. There is no way in any sense to try and sugarcoat it; it is indeed the worst diagnosis in the whole of the medical fraternity.
Schizophrenia strikes young males in their earlier stages of life, usually between the ages of their teens to twenties, for some it may come more suddenly, but for others more gradually. Women on the other hand are prone to develop Schizophrenia in their late twenties.
I want to be your friend as we journey through living with schizophrenia, seeing that you are not alone in this fight. There are groups and communities that may be of great support. In essence, I don’t want to sketch a scenario of hopelessness.
Schizophrenia tends to isolate one from the everyday world, and the stresses of the real world are too much for the fragile mind to endure. One would find that people with this disorder have had prolonged periods of isolation socially.
Before I continue, introductions need to be made. My name is Jaco Basson, and I was diagnosed with Schizophrenia at the age of nineteen. It was a dark chapter in my life, knowing that I have a degenerative mental disease, and I would then from that day henceforth, for the rest of my life, take serious medication for this dreadful disease of the mind.
Please understand that in this article I am in no sense trying to drive fear into you, but at some point or the other you would have to make peace with your diagnosis and start your own journey living with Schizophrenia, it is no easy feat whatsoever, but don’t let Schizophrenia define you as a person, because it does’nt. Let me rephrase it: Schizophrenia does not define who and what you are.
Those with no sense or knowledge of Schizophrenia will try and tag you as being crazy, far from it, you can still live a pretty normal life to some degree despite the troubled mind. In the beginning phases, there is an apparent hope for some kind of wonder drug to make this all go away, but this is unfortunately not a reality.
I have been through every possible kind of combination of medication on the market with no joy in any sense, I even had thirtytwo ECTs, for the common folk these are “brain shocks”, not to mention that I have been admitted countless times in mental rehabs everytime I relapsed over the span more than tweny seven years, when I was diagnosed.
When a relapse occurs, the chances are slim that you will recover to your previous state of mind and being, and it is then that the Psychiatrist must take another serious approach to one’s medication, in essence, try something new. At times, one may become so desperate inside to make the symptoms vanish that one may become so willing to try anything new on the market.
I guess I can inform you, I have both auditory and visual hallucinations that are active as I am writing this very article. I do have times when I have some ease, but I take quite a lot of medication that has a string of side effects. However, I must state that the side effects are not as serious as the sickness itself.
As for the voices, you get internal voices and then again voices from without you; these voices can become very aggressive and demanding. This can become truly confusing in wondering, are these voices externally generated, internally generated, or other generated? It can become frightening to even consider.
I can remember when I was first admitted to Tara in Sandton, South Africa, a psychiatric hospital, I was in a state of utter confusion, I was at that point already diagnosed with Schizophrenia and extremely psychotic. This is the worst part of being diagnosed with Schizophrenia, the first few months or even years, as not all medication will work for you, finding the correct medication for you can even take years.
The human mind, having its means to go beyond, in its intricacy, so extraordinary in its findings that it can scape to another view of how we should experience truth and matter, very life itself.
Matter can take different forms, however, truth has its way of bringing one to grassroots level of even trying to define the complexity in its finding of the tripartite being that we are, body, soul, and spirit. Boggling to even consider that we function as a part of a whole society as a whole, where not everyone experiences life in the same manner, where one percent of the world population will have schizophrenia.
These individuals, I would dare say, are even at the very least bit blessed in any form, shape, or fashion; it has the potential ability to create truth that is to amaze even the ordinary mind. Taking one on journey, defining the ordinary world of an ordinary mind, no easy feat whatsoever, yet I never seem to escape from a world no one else would tell or even see.
The way we experience matter and truth, the guide to our whole way of living in a chaotic multi-religious, multi-racial world that never seems to slow in its pace, each person trying in their best efforts to make any a bit of sense of an insane world.
We might both look at a chair, you may say: “It’s a car.” I might respond: “No, it’s a fridge, but it does not change the matter of fact that it is indeed a chair.
We can all identify with color, most of us can agree on this to a degree, and with sound, not everyone hears precisely the same tone of notes floating from a clarinet, as the ear can only identify with a certain number or string of notes.
In my best of efforts as a Schizoaffective will try to paint a collage of how I perceive life to be, it might stretch across reason and logic, it might not be fact, but it carries my own sense of reality in that which may seem completely obscene from your own findings in an incredible world where we all ever seek a higher call and purpose to life.
Are you ready? Here we Go!
Like a downward spiral never seemingly to see its abyss, like a dripping tap, drip, drip, drip so clear to hear falling on tone deaf ears of the perplexed mind, the wounded spirit in want, crying in an echo of silence, breath in, breath out, tick tock, tick tock, the clock paces by, a waiting in need of another nights sleep.
A single sound so distant indeed, now singled out, how will I ever escape this chaotic maze of the mind, never to relent or even to feel? A journey that started so many years in the making, surely has taken its toll on this man inside.
Prematurely grey, you would never say. How shall I run, where can I hide, each memory of hope in sheer joy, that of a child who never understood the true story behind. I did not choose to be here at first, why then should I try or even be dismayed a single moment in time, again and again?
I hold dear life, tomorrow with hope will make things more so clear as I endeavor bravely, the voices shouting, who can make sense from this mess inside, I need to know why? Yes, tell me, tell me, tell me now, Lord, why did I even end up in this hollow demise each day with another surprise?
Awaken, O soul, the bells ring aloud and clear, all living things come to life, yet another day that I must endure. I must stand bold, as yet the dawn of another day unfolds, take my medication, hopefully things will be better again, but to no surprise, I dimly, ever so, hear voices louder and clearer.
Help, help, can anyone hear, fear has taken grip O my soul, what is this done, never undone, is it not bout time to smile again, but even the smile turns to a frown, just as every other day, I am left in dire may, ever miry sever clay, it was just a hope for a brighter day.
Seasons come, seasons go, in winter of soul, the crackling in the weeping willow’s crooked creek it seems, losing its leaves in Autumn’s breeze. Strangely so, who would ever know, the seasons of soul, a mind of its own, take this to heart, keep the faith, keep on with all inside, this season is here at most to stay.
Summer sees blossoms bloom on every tree, budding leaves evenings in Spring, just to leave me in dire need, need of peace of mind, strangely ever so be, this mental illness comes with different degrees.
I have seen it all, there to the finish line, even beyond, this mental illness don’t always succeed. Yes, take your pills, apparently glee, now you will see, not ever to be, the same, make peace with your friends, or even ignore them all complete.
However you choose, just know, you are not free to do as hoped it to be, life will not leave you in Spring, as day closes to dusk, pills, maybe we’ll awake, and this would all just be another dream.
Light up a smoke, pack of twenty friends in need, or double up to give you some ease to breathe. Stress of mind, this started to become a filthy habit indeed, smoking was a habit despised, since I started this journey, but smoking indeed, even today, twenty or shy, more to go buy.
Shocking as this may now even sound, when I was diagnosed, a single pause hung in silence, as my treating Psychiatrist said:
“You have Schizophrenia.”
Walls came tumbling down, like shattered glass, each piece came apart, even a rug pulled from beneath my feet, a life with still some glimmer of hope, a sense of knowing the reason for the struggle in mind, surely, I will take my medication and all would be just fine, but as time sojourns and fade away, the big phantom of the mind is here to stay to the end of every other day.
Cloudy and rusty, this dazzling hazed mind of mine, having seen the wasteway of the human mind, taking charge each and every day, when will this end? I have my mind refreshed in all of these ways, but even the effect goes away, when will this stop, my pain one day?
Discovery awaits you, each passing day, to find the best-fitting medication, a struggle from months to years, and then again as you relapse, psychosis takes role, pure dismantlement of the mind, push forward, never demise to stop try, follow my lead and see me bleed, I am like you, another brother or sister in need, of some love and understanding, for all that you may, this maze will keep your mind ever wonder, how tomorrow will be, yes, you are even just like me.
The relentless spirit will keep you afloat, it’s your true source of hope when there is much doubt, it will carry you throughout.
You versus the phantom, the never-ending battle inside, round for round gives goodness the score, trying forever to praise the Lord. Now that we talk, let’s talk some sense. Sooner or later, your round begins, what to find was never inside, it’s God in your corner, He is inside.
This pilgrimage is one not walked alone, with God at your side, He is your guide. I am just here to give you the rules, if you can’t adhere to or even one to choose, God alone help, with Him, you can’t lose.
This frightfully nightmarish ordeal that never seems to see the calm of day, like a never-ending rollercoaster ride between right and rhyme, yes, you have your moments of peace, then without warning, suddenly comes the unease as the voices seem louder, never to cease. What is then joy when all you can see is a life filled with unwanted phantoms?
Where are you now? I think you should know, you must stand strong when everything seems wrong. Who is to blame, no game to win, leaving in shame, is this a true source divine, why am I even here to find, this life was not mine at start or for the choosing, even to this point, left me in losing, a life of sheer joy anticipated need, yes, this was once my creed, but now left in need, I can see, yes I see you also bleed.
Kind-hearted, yes, I know you are, most stories afloat could not be more wrong, sensitivity sets in, yes, you feel, you can agree, feel for others’ inner sides, you are one of a kind, moulded broken apart, the snow flakes fallen on every side, deeper, deeper snow, buried soul, this cold is here, listen here and listen clear, you have no need to fear, as it has now come clear, these phantoms of the soul make their noise without poise.
Draw the line, life evenings decline, my heart and mind, beating now ever so fast, keep, stand tall as the phantoms fall. It’s now clear, every sound I hear rings equal tone, it is prone, discover the life unwanted, chaos theory found its clause, it seems no pause or ever at all.
The fight inside, pursuing pain, is not the life I have gained. The fight inside is breaking me again, rest O my soul, scream out loud, coursing so evident on my face, who will ever understand, who can ever tell I am so high-strung in this moment in time, save me, hold me, I need to sleep.
Memories never see its fade, the torment of the human spirit, yes you hurt yourself, but see, you are not the only one to bleed, there are others in dire need, for you see, you are one of a part, now come forward, O Lord, make something from this dire mire.
Unwanted thought-provoked mind, hey! These are not mine, no, I sincerely decline. Flooded with the thought-racing mind, rest seldom to find as I have an inward cry, O who can know, this pain, this pain inside.
No one can tell, oh yeah! That’s okay, no doubt, just pray, maybe these voices are not phantoms at all, but demons just to vanish away. Farther from the truth I can say, this is for sure, no demon here, or a prayer, my dear. You think you know it all, even faintest clue inside, no, my dear, you have no part in this share, let me make myself clear, I know God too well, enough to tell I am not under any spell. Please don’t claim to be my pall, I have a sickness you can not tell. Well groomed in Church, I know all my a, b, and c’s.
Lord, Lord, lead me along every path, along smooth way, take my mountains away, I am broken inside, I know that’s your keenest interest Heart, feeble am I, I need to rest on Your arm tonight, tomorrow might just be alright. I feel so alone, who are those supposedly to care, fear taken their part, they have a point to start, understanding my cry for more people like mine.
Stars fall from a heavenly abode, I am singled out in the growing crowd, find someone like me, sharing my pain an apparent need. Who can see, these weeping willows are crying for me, as I can sense a faint breeze, leaves fall every season’s be, there sits a single leaf left for me, I break it free, now it’s just me and my empty tree.
Sheer empathy in need, a need to be found by another’s need, take two, make one, a sure help for some, finally, ever glimmering, shivering sun. Take hands, carry each needs, there will always be a better reason to be. Don’t quit just yet, there are two in kind a friend, don’t you see, there was a wife for me with different needs, a friend for life indeed, never take part, joined in one Heart, the song of love, even as doves seem to be.
There is a bridge to cross every street, keen hope, sure way ahead, but life played a dirty trick on me. Stop, can you hear the sound, it’s the phantoms again, I am in no notion to give attention to these ever-seemly shadow walls to crawl, they may brawl, I won’t give ear ever glee, this is when they freak.
Let them freak, be as it may, hey! They may not stay, I know these can not be wished away; no, they have no part to play, even in my brimmest darkest day.
You close the gap, never chat back, bait to take, hey, now wait, give them the bit, this won’t sit. Ignore them flat too be, one inhabited hollow sphere sound relieve, if you give their demands, just another way they will not adhere to go away, so it may be, if you give them what they need, they will never leave.
Roll back the tape, put it on the stack, never play back, the mind, that was said, even the way the phantoms found the very first crack, in the fence, don’t you know, your weakest spot is found, where they hit it over and over again, no life to gain, left in shame.
They tear me apart, pick me up, take it all, and tell me it is not enough, I won’t forget, I will never forget this, I am the sickness, the phantoms may appear even real, and so it be, my mind is where reason seems to be. They touch the deepest parts of me, how O Lord can You leave pieces left apart, can I have a new start?
Push back, each time you try, this struggle found the end of me, then again, some light to brighten the day. What if I try, what if we start again, just one more try, in my eyes you can see it now ever so clear, Lord, can we start again? To You, I hold dear life, one more try, one more try.
There is a start to each demise, a new beginning, Spring leaves budding green to reveal life again. Is it maybe just me, but I seem to see barely life to blossom start, in so small a thing, I can see, surely there is a plan for me. God never chose me sick, life deals a cruel blow, ever it may be, count to six and let it be, a flower inside, no one can see, ever so true there is some sweet.
As one walks this road, a way long it may seem, hold to the moment now, one step at a time, take a slow pace run through your maze, ever the craze, surely one day no exit in sight, just that you know, God is inside.
He has not left you, you just keep steady, and when you are ready, pick up your feet, surely He is nearest to Heart, never to part, with no song in heart, He’ll Do His part.
About time to settle the score, do you want to know more? This is my life simply untold, if you count then my words, weigh them all, you will find there is a life here more deeper, beyond to behold. Look to the skies, doubly cloudy may be, only remember, He is watching over me. If you think you figured me please, think again and go to your knees, I earned my stripes, yes, I do bleed.
Leave feedback about this