Personal Narrative-I Am Simone Alexander (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 sat on the table covered in all too familiar low grade tissue paper that everyone recognizes from their yearly physical check ups. I despise being at the doctor's office, but I needed to figure out what all these panic attacks meant. I remember feeling foolish going to the doctor for such a thing. It was embarrassing to think I had some sort of issue that I couldn’t contain. After running through a long list of fixed questions such as: “Does your breathing increase? Yes. Do your extremities go numb? Yes. Can you feel the attacks coming on? Sometimes.” etc.

It’s a struggle to get out of bed sometimes, I often just sit there struggling to comprehend the sequence of events which have taken place over the past year. I mean, I’m used to this now, its normal to me, but the fact that this has happened and that I am now ‘disabled’ as people would put it is hard to get my head around. And every time I look down I’m reminded of the pain and the struggle I faced, it’s a physical scar which links me to my grueling past, a physical and emotional journey.

SCHIZOPHRENIA Schizophrenia, from the Greek word meaning “split mind”, is a mental disorder that causes complete fragmentation in the processes of the mind. Contrary to common belief, schizophrenia does not refer to a person with a split personality or multiple personalities, but rather to a condition which affects the person’s movement, language, and thinking skills. The question of whether schizophrenia is a disease or collection of socially learned actions is still a question in people’ mind. People who are suffering from schizophrenia think and act in their own the world and put themselves in a way that is totally different from the rest of society. In other words, they have lost in touch with the reality. Most schizophrenics accept

If you were to see me walking down the street you would never guess that I was in foster care. I dress and act like your everyday 17 year old, and in a way I am. Except I was placed in foster care when I was 15 years old. Scratch that I put myself in foster care when I was 15 years old. I bet you’re asking “why”? “Why would you do such a thing”? Well my mother was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia also known as disorganized schizophrenia. Just in case you don't know disorganized schizophrenia is characterized by incoherent and illogical thoughts and behaviors, so when you are 15 that's not a good situation to be in. My mother couldn't keep a job therefore she could not support us.

No one considered that Schizophrenia was the ailment that tormented my brother. We assumed it was just stress and anxiety that stole his nights, his sanity, and his joy. We all believed that it was just a phase my happy, go-lucky, comic brother would get over. After all, doesn't everybody go through these rough patches of their life, and like a phoenix tried through a fire, rise triumphantly? That was my hope for my brother. But as the days progressed, fatigue mixed with delusions consumed my brother’s thoughts and disrupted his ability to function. As a sister, I felt helpless watching my big brother, my hero, and my confidant going through the greatest battle of his life - mental illness. Episodes and psychiatric breakdowns were constant,

Exploring Schizophrenia A disease that leads to more suicide deaths than AIDS, SIDS, and MS combined is present in one in one hundred people globally. Schizophrenia is prone to lead to long-term disability, unemployment, drug and alcohol abuse, and family trauma. Ten percent of all patients commit suicide.

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 my husband died, our daughter, Veronica, was diagnosed with childhood schizophrenia. We brought her to countless specialists and nearly all of them came to the same conclusion. The condition is rare, but certainly not unheard of. We were devastated. The doctors suggested that we not start her on medication right away. They were concerned the chemicals might interfere with the development of her brain. At five years old, when proper brain development is critical, they didn’t want to chance it. Only if the hallucinations became severe would they prescribe antipsychotics.

My first week went really well! I was definately both nervous and excited on the first day. I was nervous because I wasn't sure how the clinic would run and I quickly learned that it is a very fast paced clinic. My CI sees patients every 15 minutes and he is both the only PT there and the owner of the clinic. I have been learning a lot about PT treatments as well as the buisness side of the PT clinic. He has a lot of PT aides that help with exercises and setting patients up with ice and stim ect. The fast paced clinic was definately something I had to get used to. I was a little overwhelmed when we would just start with a patient and a new patient would walk in the door. However, there is a very good flow in the clinic and everyone is always

As I came into this world on July, 16, 1992, my parents realized that I was special. I had bright blue eyes that enchant anyone who looks into them. As I grew up in the town of Monmouth, England, I was normal. Had normal clothes, had normal parents, and lived in a normal flat. At the age of 7, we moved From that small beloved town into the town of Grimsby, or rather the Island of Grimsby. This mysterious little island of the coast of the United States is quite homey. No one could ever not know you, unless you were a newcomer. The weather there is always gray and gloomy, hence the name, Grimsby. After we moved to that area, I started to notice that I was able to perform some frighteningly real magic tricks.

I never really wanted my story to start like 'Once upon a time...'. Mainly because I hated fairy tales. The way they get their happy ending is stupid and unrealistic. Especially the way they describe the princesses. Five foot two, cake makeup, blonde, and high expectations. Everyone at my Fine Art High School calls me the anti-princess from the way I act from me actually wanting to do things for myself. I didn't deny it. Not one time ever. I open my locker open to grab my History textbook before my friend, Brielle Samuel, ran towards me. "Hey Brielle." I said calmly before she slammed my locker door. "Sasha you need to follow me now!" She grabbed my hand and started drag me somewhere. For all I know, She's probably going to show me to some

“I’m not sure I ever believed in fairytales. The thought of one person and one soul mate terrifies me. And clearly, there’s never been a fairy tale about a princess like me. Not that I’m a princess,” I clarified. “I’m not. Not even close. And that’s okay. I’m not a damsel in distress or a heroine that saves the day. I’m more of a supporting character in the fairytale, like the girl feeding the chickens in the background when the prince rides up on his white horse. Not that I’m complaining. I