I had never been seriously
mentally ill before, although I had suffered from depression since the age of
eight. My family found it hard to talk about feelings and I never communicated
well with my parents. The attack happened after a bout of depression. I had
been finding it hard to concentrate at work, I wasn't eating properly, would
hardly talk to anyone - the usual symptoms of depression. Then I started
hearing voices that seemed to come from outside my head. They began tormenting
me, telling I was evil, that I would be better off dead. They were male and
female voices who would talk about me and to me, sometimes, jeering and
laughing. It sounds bizarre, but it doesn't occur to you that it is your mind
playing tricks. In the end I couldn't stand it. I took an overdose of
antidepressants to blot them out. I spent a week in our local psychiatric
hospital as a voluntary patient. Schizophrenia was eventually diagnosed. It was
a relief to know what it was. There are lots of symptoms of schizophrenia, such
as being withdrawn, unmotivated and not caring about your appearance. But the
most well-known ones are hearing voices and having delusions. Hearing voices is
when you experience your thoughts as if they are coming from outside your head.
Delusions are when you have a fixed belief in something, even though common
sense tells you it can't be true. Your brain and reason lose track of each
other. The worst aspect of schizophrenia is the danger it can put you in. I
went through a stage of blacking out and finding myself in horrifying
situations. The police are more aware of mental illness these days, so if they
find me wandering around they take me straight to the local hospital. Being
thrown in a cell and handcuffed made me feel terribly humiliated. Only one time
I have ever tried to hurt someone else. Most of the time my anger and confusion
are directed inwards. I had cut my wrists or carve the word Evil into my arms
because the voices were telling me to. Because of the state I was in it didn't
hurt, and in a way it seemed to relieve some of the unbearable pressure. People
often believe, mistakenly, that everyone who suffers from schizophrenia is
violent. Although some are, the majority would never be violent to anyone other
than themselves. I have tried to commit suicide several times, sometimes
because I don't know what I am doing and other times because I am fed up with
feeling like this. Ten per cent of schizophrenics commit suicide. I have
discovered my illness goes through phases, which helps. I don't always know
what it sparks it off. I am better at recognising when an attack is coming on
and take myself to hospital before I do anything stupid. Stress can also be a
trigger. I see a psychiatrist who prescribes me Sulpiride - a sedative used to
control acute hallucinations and delusions, which makes me feel as though I am
experiencing everything through cotton wool. Louise, my social worker, has been
a great help. I am proud that I have struck to it and it is helping to restore
my self-esteem. I am able to lead a fairly normal life. Many people with
schizophrenia become isolated and this makes them withdraw into themselves even
more. I know people whose schizophrenia has burned itself out by their forties
and at the moment I am clinging to the hope that I might be one of those.
Sarah had always suffered from depression on and off,
so I was used to her being moody. For several weeks she had been acting
strangely - being withdrawn, confused and talking to herself. Looking back I
should have noticed. But I was wrapped up in my work. I decided the best thing
was to be as supportive as possible. I thought it would blow over, but it
wasn't until six months later that schizophrenia was diagnosed. I knew that,
chemically, people with schizophrenia are thought to have excess dopamine
receptors in their brain ( a protein allowing messages to travel around the
brain) and that this is reduced by taking antipsychotic drugs. No one knows
exactly what causes it, although there is a genetic link, and environmental
factors seem to play a role. But no one in either of our families had suffered
from mental illness, so I didn't know what to expect. In the beginning I clung
to the hope that it was just a passing phase and that Sarah would soon recover.
She was readmitted. That was the start of a cycle of behaviour common in
schizophrenics, where they are better for a while, then suffer a relapse and
end up in hospital again. Sarah's illness seemed to bring new and increasingly
bizarre behaviour with every turn. Obviously the suicide attempts were
distressing, she wandered the streets for hours in a confused state. If I knew
she was ill I was happy for her to be sectioned, which meant she had to be
forcibly kept in hospital. Knowing Sarah could die any day made me realise what
mattered in life. To have Sarah healthy was more important to me than any
glories at work. She was withdrawn and drinking seemed to be the only way to
blot out the voices. Coping with her disability means their lives have been
limited. At the moment we don't want children because Sarah might become ill
and not be able to look after them. They would also have a 15 per cent chance
of developing the illness. Anyway, we have found we can put that extra energy
into supporting mental health campaigns. Since Sarah's been ill I have
developed strong ideas on the subject. I think everyone needs to be better
educated about mental illness. People should realise that mentally ill people
are human beings. Sarah is a person, not an illness.
