I took a train home for thanksgiving yesterday. It is the first time I've been to my parents house since June 27th of 2011. I was nervous about coming home. It is a reminder of how hard times in my life have been. It was on June 27th of 2011 that I was arrested to eventually be hospitalized for the last time. This trip has pushed me to look at what I am doing both as a writer and as a survivor of schizophrenia.
June 27th was the darkest hour in my life. I had been battling schizophrenia for a while by that time. I had had ups and downs. My symptoms lingered and festered for years. The paranoia would occasionally affect me enough to where I would admit myself in hospitals. These times were interspersed with times that I seemed to be doing well. The feelings that I wasn't safe slowly got stronger.
On June 27th I had a major breakdown. It would lead me to see that I had a problem. This step of acceptance marks a major turning point in my recovery. I stopped all that I was doing and focused on getting better. I am now living without symptoms and am have a good life.
I know first hand how desperate schizophrenia can make someone feel. I know how important it is that I share my story. I am doing what I can to help others with mental illnesses. The act of helping others helps heal the wounds left on my spirit by schizophrenia. It allows me to look back on June 27th of 2011 with the knowledge that what I have done since has been good. I need to use the experiences I've had and turn them into a positive.
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