u/trowawaygoo

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When you have disclosed your diagnosis: what reaction do you hate the most? I’ll go first.

Mine is “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

Sorry about what? Did you give it to me? Were you somehow responsible? Do you know a cure and you’ve been secretly withholding it from humanity? No? Then what the fuck are you sorry for?

Close second: people who knew you perfectly well five minutes ago suddenly treating you like you’re made of glass. “Are you okay?” Yes. “Are you sure?” YES. I haven’t changed since you learned the diagnosis. You have.

And honorable mention to the people who immediately graduate from Facebook University School of Psychiatry:

“Have you tried—”

Yes. Probably. Please put the prescription pad down.

What’s yours?

Hi. In october 2024, i started working on a graphic novel. I hadn't engaged in creative work since 2007. I have been stable since then. Not symptoms free, but very high functioning. Ever since i reopen the creative angle, things have gotten harder. But i'm still comited to finish the graphic novel. I work on it in my free time. After work. And I can't sustained it for months. So I work for a couple of weeks put ir on hold for month. Restart. Anyway, i'm still working on it. Started with art concept and script format. Not full page drawings. The main character has schizophrenia, by the way.

Just wanted to share good news. My husband and I are sitting in the airport waiting for our flight for a week vacation

Quick question. This is not about the politics surrounding the pandemic. It something much more specific.

In my country they stablish mask mandates with no exception. But I developed this distrust about people wearing masks. Context, i rely a lot in reading peiole faces and expression to self monitor and calibrate. But with people wearing mask everywhere, i lost that, and became deeply diatrustful about people wearing masks. They became suspicious. Mask still trigger me. What was your experience?

I've been thinking about this a lot lately, probably because I started seeing a new therapist in November 2024. It also reminded me of a question my cousin (who's a psychiatrist) asked me about six years ago, but at the time I didn't think much about it. We grew up very close—she's a year and a half younger than me—but nowadays we only see each other occasionally.

Back to the point. I'll try to keep this as brief as I can.

I was diagnosed with schizophrenia in 1998, when I was 19, at the beginning of my second year of law school. Looking back, my mom had been pushing me to see a therapist since my first year. At first she thought I was depressed, then burned out, then just stressed, and eventually she became convinced I was using drugs. (Which is funny because I barely drink alcohol.)

Anyway, I finally went to a therapist. After a while, she referred me to a psychiatrist, and that's how I got diagnosed. My parents weren't convinced, so they had me see several other psychiatrists. Same diagnosis every time. Eventually my dad looked at me and said, "Which psychiatrist do you want to keep?" I decided to stay with the first one.

I was started on medication. But I stopped taking it because, at the time, I was convinced that if I collected all my medication, I could eventually use it to achieve "actualization." Never mind the metaphysical delusional framework I was living in at the time.

So I stopped taking the medication.

Not long afterward I had a full-blown, undeniable psychotic break that ended in a psychotic suicide attempt. I genuinely believed it was impossible for me to die—I just needed to get out of my body. The whole thing was incredibly elaborate and honestly not worth explaining here. That was my first hospitalization.

After I was discharged, I stayed on medication for about a year. I hated it.

School had always come naturally to me. I was consistently in the top three students in law school while studying maybe half as much as everyone else. I didn't even take notes. I just went to class because I genuinely enjoyed learning. To be fair, that ability had already started eroding before medication. But once I was on medication, it became impossible. So I dropped out of law school and enrolled in art school when I was 20.

Long story short, that's where I stopped medication for the first time.

From then on, my twenties became a cycle.

I'd stop medication, get an initial lift where everything seemed better—or at least I thought it did. Then, slowly, I'd drift, symptoms would become more obvious, and eventually my parents would realize I was off medication. Sometimes they caught it early, sometimes much later. I'd go back on medication, often with multiple medications at once, stabilize, and eventually stop again.

That cycle went on for years.

I was hospitalized a few more times. Somewhere along the way everything also became entangled with an eating disorder.

The problem was that I desperately wanted to function without medication because I genuinely couldn't function on it. We tried different antipsychotics, but between the cognitive slowing and the weight gain, I could rarely tolerate staying on them for more than a month or two. The goal became: stabilize, then stop again.

But something gradually changed.

As I got older, the periods I could stay off medication became longer. Not because the symptoms disappeared—they didn't—but for reasons I don't really want to get into here, they became more manageable.

Around age 28, I realized I had already been off medication for more than six months. I finally admitted this to my psychiatrist. Her response surprised me. She basically said, "If you're that convinced, let's do it officially. I don't approve, but let's see where this goes."

Another six months passed. Everyone knew I was off medication, and I was still functioning. People started wondering if, somehow, the illness had simply... settled.

I was 29.

I had dropped out of law school. I never finished art school either. I had tried other degrees and never completed those. I'd never held a regular job. My dad had helped me set up a small workshop where I taught drawing classes and tried to make a living as an artist. I was broke, surviving on the occasional commission.

I'd also tried making a graphic novel, but I eventually realized that every serious attempt at creative work brought me dangerously close to another hospitalization. So I made a decision: I stopped doing anything deeply creative, philosophical, or related to theoretical physics. I only accepted commissions.

I managed to stay off medication for over a year that way.

But I still didn't really have a life. A handful of close friends stayed with me through all of it, and they also happened to be close to my sister, which I think helped.

Then, the year I was about to turn 30, I decided to give law school one more try.

This time I finished.

I've been functioning at a pretty high level ever since.

Which brings me to the reason I'm writing this.

My younger brother, who's about ten years younger than me, was also diagnosed with schizophrenia. His path was very different. As far as I remember, he never had the kind of full psychotic break that led to repeated hospitalizations like mine. He consistently took his medication, and over the years his psychiatrist slowly tapered it.

Around the time he approached 30, he also seemed to stabilize. He had struggled for years to finish his degree, but eventually he did. Today he's 38, works in the family company that my dad and I started years ago, and has also been living without medication for about six years.

I've now been off medication for roughly twenty years.

Neither of us is symptom-free. I still have occasional symptoms, sometimes more noticeable than others. My brother recently mentioned that he still occasionally sees the "shadow people." Funny enough, that's something we both experienced.

So here's what I've been wondering.

Has anyone else experienced something similar?

Not recovery in the sense of becoming symptom-free, but reaching a point—often around the late twenties or early thirties—where things simply... settled. The symptoms never disappeared, but they became stable enough that functioning became possible, even without medication.

I'm not suggesting anyone stop taking medication. I'm only wondering whether anyone else has had a similar trajectory, or whether there's any research suggesting that, for some people, schizophrenia can become more stable with age even if it never completely goes away.

Have meds increase your weight? If so, how do you deal with it? I don't take madication now. Long story, but I remember that the weight gain, did affected me really badly. And at the time it was under enphasize. To be fair, it was the late 90s, so the full effects might not have been as known.