I’m going to expand on something I tweeted. (Yes, I’ve been spending a lot of time on Twitter.)
Do you know what’s amazing? I don’t even remember the last time I had a psychotic symptom.
As many of you know, at 21 I was diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder. My years as a teen and young adult were plagued with terrifying hallucinations and crippling mood swings. Rock bottom hit hard and my parents got me help.
When I received my diagnosis I began taking psych meds and the effects were dramatic. I went from barely functioning to going to school. Working. Dating. Things weren’t perfect but I was going in the right direction.
Now here I am — 38. A wife. A mom. Working a job I love and writing poetry and books. Normal life has completely taken over. It was just a random thought today — I don’t remember my last psychotic symptom.
Schizoaffective disorder is serious — but I’m thriving.
But let’s give credit where credit is due. My recovery isn’t a miracle. My life isn’t blessed. All of this is thanks to science.
My medications work and I am incredibly grateful.