You will find a way out
You've probably heard the saying that some children are born old. I think it's true. It's always been said that the devil knows more because he's old than because he's the devil. I was a shy child. Capricorn children tend to be. But I think the older kids saw something in me. I was often seated next to the more troublesome classmates; everyone wanted to be my friend, and I was everyone's friend. I had a sensitivity I wasn't fully aware of , and I never knew how to channel it, or at least not completely.
At fifty-three, I'm still living in the past, in the moment when something broke and whose pieces I haven't been able to put back together . My soul was shattered. I was a nice, friendly kid, but envy is a terrible thing. The very adults I admired betrayed me and hurt me, and they did it deliberately. They say everything happens for a reason. I don't doubt it, but I was crucified, and I don't know why, because humanity has its limits, and there are some things that are simply incomprehensible.
I remember that little girl who argued with the teacher and, in turn, constantly irritated her; that boy who couldn't retain information; that teenager who asked me to teach him how to defend himself; that "village idiot" who turned out to be an excellent person; that "crazy" painter who showed up at Salvador Dalí's house with one of his paintings; that delinquent, with his code of honor; and that black magician, whom no one suspected was one. And the day my best friend cracked my skull with a rock.
The stigma: invisibility and indifference
Does a diagnosis really matter that much? Well, I have a power, greater than in my wildest delusions. It's a power I never asked for, and it was revealed to me with the diagnosis: I am invisible . I cannot be seen. Invisibility is a power that is hard to bear and causes a lot of pain. Indifference is the worst punishment, to the point that it can drive you mad. I'm not exaggerating. The stigma manifests itself to us , in its most brutal form, as indifference, and the indifference of some loved ones can drive us mad.
This is my theory: mental illness isn't a single thing, not just a set of symptoms. Mental illness is: the disorder itself, the effects of medication, and stigma . The part that deals with suffering is the disorder; medication is the part that deals with stability; and stigma is the part that deals with the environment. Therefore, it's 10 percent disorder, 30 percent medication effects, and 60 percent stigma.
Invisibility is difficult to bear and causes a lot of harm. Stigma manifests itself, in its most brutal form, as indifference.
Did you know there are many types of stigma? The stigma of the diagnosis, the most immediate; the societal stigma related to medication; the stigma from your family at home, where they stop talking to you, claiming you no longer talk to them; the stigma from friends , because you no longer go out and have fun; the stigma from extended family , because you're not the same person you used to be; the stigma from medical appointments , because of the psychiatric report; the stigma from the police , in case you're violent; the stigma from neighbors , in case you do strange things; and the stigma from partners , which is the most painful.
Break free from loneliness and find a way out
At a certain point, everything changed. My whole life fell apart. In fact, I even began to doubt whether my life had been worthwhile. I thought nothing would ever be the same, and I was right. It's been thirty years since my first mental health crisis. In these thirty years, I 've gone through different stages : psychotic episodes, hospitalizations, delusions, hallucinations, voices, paranoia, nightmares, telepathy, insomnia, fears, apathy, mind reading, and black magic. But the worst thing, the very worst thing, the thing that has destroyed me, has been the loneliness .
I spent fourteen years of my life in complete solitude, but one day I started going out, because the loneliness was killing me and because nobody, nobody, came for me.
Please, if you're reading this and you're just starting out, if you're at the beginning of treatment and you're starting to stop talking and isolate yourself, and if you'll allow me some advice: go out, go for a walk, go out for a drink or a coffee, but go out. Don't shut yourself away . I spent fourteen years of my life in complete solitude . I'm not exaggerating. And one day, in an ordinary month, in an ordinary year, I started going out. Do you know why? Because the loneliness was killing me. And because no one, no one, came looking for me.
I'm a student intern at La Xamba Social Club in Sabadell, working towards my peer-to-peer certification, which is currently offered by the EMILIA association in Barcelona. And one of the most important things they've taught me is that recovery isn't a destination, it's a journey . I was traveling on a train and a stranger kept staring at me. "What's wrong?" he asked. "I have schizophrenia," I replied. And he said, "I'm sure you'll find a way out."
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