Personal Narrative: Disorganized Schizophrenia

I woke up in my bed at the Stephens Adult Psychiatric Unit in Joplin, Missouri. I had dreamt of being back home the previous night, so it was crushing to wake up and realize where I was. It was my 2nd day there, but it felt like much longer. Most psychiatric units have a similar structure. During the week, there are group activities that preoccupy you enough to make the day somewhat bearable. The weekends are worse, because there is nothing. You can either sleep or watch television in the day room with the other patients. The lack of activity constantly reminds you that you’re trapped. That all of your belongings have been taken away. That you are not allowed to go outside at all during the duration of your stay. That you are virtually entirely isolated from the outside world. The only thing I had to look forward to during those days was the hour of visitation with my parents twice a day. You’d think a psychiatric unit would be the one place on

I’ve always been passionate about understanding others; stepping into their shoes and seeing, thinking, and appreciating the lives they live. I think it is important to take that extra step and see things from a different point of view. It is the only way to achieve a true understanding. I believe in this philosophy so much so, that it’s one of the main reasons I have this blog; to give others a glimpse of a life with mental illness. I’ve been in treatment for 2 months and 26 days and I think it’s time for another peek into my brain.

I am Simone Alexander. I have severe schizophrenia, but I take my medications regularly. I have been through a lot. Even in my condition, I still try to help out my community during the rough time I have been through. I care a lot about Hollywood, California, because I was raised here. I am such a high spirited, generous, and kind woman. I have been going through a 5 year hardship relationship with my on and off again boyfriend Lucas also known as Paw-Paw. Last night was horrific. The unthinkable was spoken. I was traumatized.

A patient that shows sign such as regression, inappropriate affect, and other behaviors that are childish or bizarre most likely has disorganized schizophrenia. But this is not the only type of schizophrenia, there are others such as: Paranoid schizophrenia, disorganized schizophrenia, catatonic schizophrenia, undifferentiated schizophrenia, and lastly residual schizophrenia.

Disorganized schizophrenia is defined as one of several subtypes of schizophrenia as chronic (long-term) mental illness. It is thought to be extreme expression of disorganized syndrome that has been hypothesized to be one feature of a 3-factor model of schizophrenia. The other factors are delusions/hallucination (reality distortion), and psychomotor poverty (poor speech, lack of spontaneous movement, and blunting emotion). People who suffer from this mental illness had to battle for years before getting any help. Also, people that have disorganized schizophrenia use and abuse drugs. There is about 1% of the population who suffer from this mental illness. In my paper I will speak about the treatment, symptoms, causes, of disorganized schizophrenia.

a muzzle brake, and five magazines. Also, two shorty double barrels with the quickloader”. The quickloader is a machine that attaches on the side of your hamstrings. It has two compartments in each loader, and in the compartments goes shells. You simply stick the inside latch of the double shotgun against it, and it ejects the shells into the chamber of the double barrel for a quick reload.

Before I could put the folder back, there was a knock on the door and I turned around only to see him.

“Junior! stop laughing”,” Junior walk normal”, “junior eat”, “Junior did you wash your clothes?”, “JUNIOR! Don't smoke in the house!” These were many phrases that I heard in my life when my schizophrenic cousin came to live with us. To this day were not entirely sure if he only heard voices, sometimes we think he saw things too. He was diagnosed with schizophrenia in his early twenties and I was around seven years old, I honestly don't remember him ever being sane, but you could see the change in the people around us. His parents wouldn't accept it and refused to buy him medicine because “God had his reasons”, and my cousins (they're quite a bit older than me) never really accepted it and neither did my grandpa but he just shook his head and continued what he was doing. But my mother, she understood, she was a nurse who worked at Life care for a while so she knew how to deal with people who are “different”. So we took him in.

“So how is our Jane Doe?” he asked, sinking into a purple armchair and crossing his legs.

I’ve been diagnosed with Schizophrenia, it is crazy, I know. Some would believe that being schizophrenic does make me crazy and sometimes I think I am. All the thoughts floating around, voices speaking to me, seeing things that aren’t really there, I couldn’t set priorities and not feeling “the right way” about many things. Before I was formally diagnosed, my family was very upset with me, my actions, and did not understand what was going on with me. I was having a very hard time caring for my premature baby properly and not bonding well with her, I think because I was having trouble with my emotions. Every day was hard, nothing seemed to make sense. I was sick and we all did not realize how bad it really could become, until it did. The good new is

Reading your post confirms my decision to enter into Mental Health Counseling was a good choice. Your desire to work with individuals from diverse backgrounds and using a wide range of techniques was what drew me to this specialization as well. It is interesting to note how you were considering very specific programs before settling on mental health counseling. I am also inspired by your initial consideration of entering into addiction counseling to assist individuals like your brother. My family has also inspired me to enter into counseling as well. They are the reason why I have been as successful as I have been in the past, and they are also the reason why I have sought out counseling for my own betterment.

I performed for the very first time in the 3rd grade talent show, when I sang “Manic Monday” by the Bangles. My aunts contributed shoes, bracelets and socks, then my mother pulled my curly hair up into the highest ponytail I’ve ever achieved to date. Despite having practiced with my dad every day, I was unbearably nervous. My knees trembled so much I was unsure they would hold me up long enough to finish up the song,and I was grateful for the stage lights, so I didn't have to see my classmates. When I watched the video again recently, I saw something unexpected. Despite being visibly nervous, 8 year-old me looks completely happy, and much less nervous than I remember feeling. You can almost see my love for music and performance blooming. The

In the middle of the room, I’m surrounded by strangers. The crowd is it’s own entity, swaying from one corner to another, and I become nothing more than just another body in the quaking mass. The clutter in my mind is sorted and replaced by the chaos on the floor. My worries and fears, the cycles of thought that loop within me quiet and dissipate. Faces blend with sounds, and the swirling lights sing away my solitude.

My name is Katerina Sideri and my profession is Psychotherapist for the past 3 and a half years, working in Thorpe Coombe Hospital. I mostly work with young children and adolescents, individual and group sessions.

“Sir?” I call out into the onyx room. I gain a response of my echo bouncing back to me. I get into a tight ball and start rocking back and forth. I feel a cold touch brush against my shoulder. Insanity’s way of taking in its victims. I embrace my fate, to let insanity in the door. Nothing but darkness surrounds me. Nothing until a refulgence caused by an unknown source gave the answer to my way of breaking free. For my answer were to be wrong for the illumination were to be a trickle of lightning. A tawny colored pebble road lay in front of my path of lunacy. For the crow night only to be irradiate by bolts of bright lines dancing in the sky. I stumble down the long winding road. I am followed by dark wings and a long and shining scythe. The