My Healing Journey

My Healing Journey 

By Adam Stone

How Accepting Jesus Saved My Life

In 1993, at the age of 29, I began to experiment with meth-amphetamine. I got hooked immediately. I spent all hours hanging out with the wrong crowd in a nocturnal underworld. This was the drug that brought me to my knees and opened the doors to schizophrenia.

After a few weeks without sleep and completely insane behavior, a friend took me to a psych ward where they shot me up with thorazine and strapped me down to the bed with restraints. I was diagnosed with meth-amphetamine psychosis and thus began the revolving door of psychiatric hospitals and medications.

I became homeless and wandered the streets for a few weeks, but eventually found my way into a group home and enrolled in a local community college. I took English and typing classes and did well. Soon optimism returned to me and I began to make plans for my future again. I still held onto the hope that my life would amount to something.

I was obsessed with trying to find a way to deal with my illness. I went to a lake shrine to meet with a yogi monk, studied the Koran and Zen and consulted with a Kabbalistic Rabbi. I called Jews for Jesus and tried to fathom the Tao. I sampled guided meditation tapes, repeated mantras, practiced deep breathing and hypnosis. I wrote to an Indian Shaman and read “The Power of Positive Thinking.” I listened to Anthony Robbins and other motivational gurus. I combed bookstores looking for answers in self-help books. I called the Arch Diocese office for an exorcism, but they told me I had to be levitating. I even sought help from an alien abduction specialist.

Occasionally, the subject of Jesus would come up, and I would dismiss it as being for others but not for me. I thought Jesus was ridiculous and those who followed him were fanatical Jesus freaks. I believed the resurrection was fiction, the bible old wives tales, and that Jesus was just a wise man, and certainly not God.

In 2002, I decided to move to New York to start a new life. I went to what would be my last psych ward. I was released and moved into a quiet group home on the Upper West Side and attended a day program. After graduating from my day program, my father agreed to pay for culinary school. I went on to serve as an extern at many of New York’s finest restaurants. I was then hired as a Garde Manger (French for "keeper of the food") at a restaurant on the Upper West Side that eventually went out of business.

I was still searching for answers, attending synagogue occasionally, but felt uninspired.

One night, after an AA meeting, I went out to dinner with a new friend. I told him I felt like I was dealing with spiritual warfare. He turned to me, and, for some reason, I knew what he was going to say. He said, “You need something more powerful than AA. You need Jesus.”

I knew it was a pivotal moment. A few days later I attended a small church in the Bronx and accepted Jesus as my Lord and savior. It was 2008.

As a young Jewish man, going to Jesus is about as rebellious as one can get. A Jewish family would almost rather you become a Buddhist, or Hindu, than to give your life to Christ. It took the gift of desperation to accept Jesus as my Lord and savior.

A pastor suggested a wonderful church in Times Square. I dove right in and signed up for New Believers classes and received water baptism. For the first time in so many years I felt less alone. My new friends understood spiritual warfare. I felt some sense of peace and comfort.

I am here to tell you that, as a man who had no faith, no belief, was condescending, full of conceit, arrogance, sin, pride, and rationalized everything, Jesus changed my life.

Coming to Jesus did not disqualify me from trials and tribulations. Coming to Jesus also didn’t mean all would be smooth sailing. I continued to be tested in the furnace of affliction.

I am now involved in three different ministries at church. Most of my life revolves around church. God has placed a burden on my heart to work with those suffering from mental illness. AA says that my experience can help benefit others. I want to give back what was so freely given to me.

“Lord, make me an instrument of Your peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love. Where there is injury, pardon. Where there is discord, harmony. Where there is error, truth. Where there is doubt, faith. Where there is despair, hope. Where there is darkness, light. And where there is sadness, joy.

“O Divine Master, Grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love. For it is in giving that we receive. It is in pardoning that we are pardoned; and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.”— Prayer of St. Francis of Assisi.

Pullout: “He turned to me, and, for some reason, I knew what he was going to say. He said, 'You need something more powerful than AA. You need Jesus.'”

Recovery From An Illness Best Kept Secret For Now

Recovery From An Illness Best Kept Secret For Now

By Katalin

There Were Many Steps

I attribute my recovery from mental illness to sound psychiatric counsel, positive lifestyle changes and consistent medication management. I have been stabilized for the past ten years, but things were not always this good, particularly before my diagnosis. Although I am delighted with my stabilization, my triumph over mental illness is wrought with certain medical problems due to the side effects of the medication I am taking. However hard these impediments might be, they have not deterred me from leading a rich and full life as a means to combat the negative effects of a possible relapse of my mental illness.

The psychosis I endured snuck up on me quite stealthily. At first it was just some voices here and there, then images and later delusions. I grappled with these bizarre thoughts for about a year until I was admitted to the in-patient unit at Payne Whitney Clinic. It was during my three week stay that I was diagnosed for the first time with late onset paranoid schizophrenia at the age of 44. When I was psychotic, I was very frightened because I knew what hearing voices meant medically—a psychiatric problem. I was also in a state of denial as I had never experienced symptoms before. I was very afraid that if I were admitted to a hospital, I would end up like my father, who also has this disease and has been institutionalized for over 40 years.

Once I was discharged from the inpatient unit, I thought I was home free. My psychiatrist said “not so fast.” I attended PW’s Continued Day Treatment Program where I was immersed for nine months in numerous helpful workshops. I did make some lasting friendships there. Once I was finished with the program I was positive I would be allowed to stay home. Again, not so. My psychiatrist strongly urged me to attend group therapy. I joined a group organized for other schizophrenic patients and was in the group for a year and a half. I was stabilized and ready to move on to a full schedule of extra-curricular activities.

Despite all the hard work everybody does for psychiatric patients at Payne Whitney Clinic, I probably would never have recovered successfully were it not for the medication I take every single day. What has also really helped is that I also stopped drinking and smoking. When I learnt from my doctor that alcohol and nicotine have adverse effects on the chemical interaction of the psychotropic medications and the brain’s chemistry, I decided to quit. Stopping drinking was harder than smoking, but after several attempts, I was able to stop both. Today, I move freely among people who drink and smoke without difficulty. Where I have trouble is with the physical problems I am experiencing with the neuroleptics I am taking. I have gained weight and this has led to some other medical problems. I am watching and managing my medical problems, but compared to the active symptoms of paranoid schizophrenia, these side effects are a small price to pay for my newly discovered “normalcy.”

My psychiatrists who have been treating me in the past were concerned about my lack of structure in my life. What they meant was that they would like to see me busy during the weekday. They were concerned that given my schizophrenia, this would lead to isolation and possible relapse. I have been attending concerts and shows, volunteering in a civic organization, doing my chores and writing. I also work out at a gym 4 days a week.

There are two drawbacks as I see it. One has to do with being unemployed when I am with others who are employed and the other has to do with disclosure about my mental illness. I choose not to disclose my mental illness to most people because of the stigma that is still associated with schizophrenia.

Be that as it may, I have had ten years to master the delicate balance of living in the world of “normals’ and interacting with the mentally ill. Sometimes I feel like I am living the life of a charade, but regrettably I cannot disclose to the public about my mental illness at this time. The circles in which I move are not ready for such a declaration. What I am grateful for are the good people at PWC who show kindness and respect toward people like us. I have never heard anyone call me a wacko, schizo, psycho, crazy, or a lunatic behind my back. And I hope I never will. My experience has taught me that in my transformation from psychotic person to stabilized individual there was something in life that was lost forever, but also tangible things that were equally gained for an eternity.

Psychotic Without Knowing It

Psychotic Without Knowing It

By Jason

Surviving the Rollercoaster of Untreated Mental Illness

The last twenty years of my mental illness have been slowly progressive.

It all began while serving in the military in 1993. I started to have this feeling that I was being talked about and followed by others. After the military, in 1995, while living in Berlin, Germany, these feelings continued along with the sense that someone was spiking my food and drinks as a joke. At that time, I could only hold a job for a couple of months at a time.

In 2005, I went to London. There, I started experiencing an on and off sensation of fingers touching my body (known as tactile hallucinations). Soon I started believing I was a victim of witchcraft. In London, I began to think that someone was angel-dusting (putting PCP in) the places I would sit to cause these hallucinations as a prank. I thought it was a newly developed hallucinogenic that was being soaked through my skin. This was the beginning of my psychosis.

I started to have delusional thoughts, believing things that were unreal, but which I perceived to be real. It was while I was living in London that I first became an inpatient at a mental hospital. I started to believe that street signs were put up to remind me of the past (delusions of reference). This is when everything becomes a coincidence. I also started believing that I was a victim of a prank and I was being left out. I started to believe that behind my back I was famous (delusions of grandeur). I was paranoid but hid it well. When I would go into a grocery store, I would believe all the customers and employees there were waiting for me.

After London, while in Washington State, I started reading license plates and brand names on peoples’ clothing, and thinking that there must be some sort of hidden meaning. I started believing that the things said or seen on the television had secret meaning about me. In Washington State I tried to commit suicide a few times and was sent to the mental hospital. California has section 5150 which allows a qualified officer or clinician to involuntarily confine a person suspected to have a mental disorder that makes him or her a danger to self, a danger to others, and/or gravely disabled. In Washington there are no 5150s. The justice system in Washington will put a person in jail for having an episode and give misdemeanor charges. I went through a vicious cycle of mental hospitals, emergency rooms, ICUs, jails and courts in Washington State.

When I got to California I got real sick. I started to believe I was on camera 24/7 as a prank (which is The Truman Show delusion) and that my family members were switched by impostors and wealthy actors (which is Capgras syndrome, aka delusional misidentification syndrome). I then started to believe I was a POW and that I was still in Germany and WWIII was happening behind my back—because Anaheim is in California and Anaheim is a German name. Heim means home in the German language and Germany was also involved in WWI and WWII. Then I started to believe that the military was looking to rescue me from Germany and that enemy snipers were in the trees. So I started crawling around my condo in the dark to avoid being shot at by snipers through my window (as I had learned to do in boot camp while having live ammunition shot over my head).

Sometimes in my condo, I would hear machine guns firing and black hawk helicopters hovering right outside. I would also hear people speaking the German language outside my condo. So I got a baseball bat to sleep with to protect myself and destroyed my heater/air conditioner, cellphone and computer internet modem and turned all electricity off in my condo. I avoided human contact and believed any and every person I saw was an actor. I thought that if one person was on a cell phone walking by me, the person was talking about me.

Last summer I became gravely disabled. I thought that if a person was driving next to me, behind me, or in front of me, the drivers were following me. I thought it was all arranged with cell phone communication. I got diagnosed with psychotic disorder, then schizoaffective disorder, then bipolar, and schizophrenia. My current diagnosis has reverted back to psychotic disorder. However, it does not matter what I am diagnosed with at the moment because most of my symptoms are gone, thanks to the medication that I only need to take once a month.

Presently, I think like a normal man as I did when I was younger. I have very rare audio hallucinations and rare tactile hallucinations but I am not delusional or paranoid any longer. I also do not believe that everyone is an actor trying to fool me, like in “Rosemary's Baby.” After I moved to Citrus Heights from Washington State a year and a half ago I had three 5150s in a four-month period in the summer of 2013. Since October 2013, I have found a medication that works, an injection once a month. I can easily slip off of an oral medication, thinking: "Oh, I am better now, so why should I take the medication? There is nothing wrong with me.” Luckily, I have no side-effects from the medication and I do not even notice a medication in my system.

I now realize that alcohol had played a major role in my dramas during my vicious cycle of mental illness. Now I do not need to drink so much because most of my symptoms are gone. Since 1994 I have had a very slow progressive illness, so slow that I had a condition known in a neurological study as Anosognosia, a deficit of self-awareness, a condition in which a person who suffers a certain disability seems unaware of the existence of his or her disability (Wikipedia) and that means that a person is without knowledge of something being wrong and without knowledge of having a disability. Up until October, 2013 I was in complete denial that I had a mental illness. It was then that I began reaching out for help and got the help I needed. Talk therapy seems to have helped the most.

My Mystic Bipolar Autobiography

My Mystic Bipolar Autobiography

By David Dalton

How I Reconciled My Mystical with My Mental Health Experiences

In this article I claim that my mood cycles have been affected by lunar and solar cycles, and that I am similar to some past major pagan and non-pagan religious figures.

In 1986 at age 22, during a low year of the 11-year sunspot cycle, I suffered a long mild depression. It was treated first with desipramine, which didn't work and had too many side effects, and then with nortriptylene, which eventually worked but did cause my only epileptic seizure that December.

Early in September of 1991, while organizing orientation week activities at the University of British Columbia Graduate Student Centre, (having been inspired by musician-songwriter Sarah McLachlan and some others, and having experienced shaktipat from my yoga teacher), I went into my first manic episode. It began with a shower of ideas early on September 1^st, and culminated in a naked sun stare, thorn hill climb, and blue rose vision on September 5^th and 6^th.

Just before my manic episode started, I witnessed some clear sky lightning, which I relate to an M-class solar flare that took place two days prior. This manic episode occurred during a waning crescent moon in a high year of the 11-year sunspot cycle. During the sun stare, I observed a curved tunnel effect, like a divine horn of oil with its wide mouth toward me, and then giant butterfly wings of space folding in on me. Then I blacked out and fell into the water.

After this experience, I remained at a mental health ward for five weeks while my lithium level was adjusted. In May of 1992, during a waxing gibbous moon, I smoked a marijuana joint on Wreck Beach intending to relax. Instead, I went into a mixed/psychotic episode resulting in a week-long hospitalization. I emerged from this stint on 5mg of haloperidol per day, in addition to the lithium. In early July 1992, during an early waxing moon, I had a suicidal period which ceased when my psychiatrist told me to come off haloperidol. After that, I would only use haloperidol as needed and on rare occasions.

In the next two and a half years I experienced three more waxing gibbous moon trials, triggered by alcohol use, and three waning crescent hypomanias with onset 5.5 lunar months after each waxing gibbous moon trial onset. Based on the first two 5.5 lunar month separations, I predicted the late August/early September 1994 high.

After the March 1994 trial I gave up drinking alcohol during the week before a full moon but continued to drink at other phases with no ill effects. I had one more waning crescent high in early July 1994 that did not have a waxing gibbous moon trial precursor, but like the others had an M-class solar flare two days prior. Similar to the September 1991 high, my June 1993 high and August-September 1994 high had clear sky lightning at their onsets. The early January 1994 high occurred during highly variable weather. The highs were pleasant and characterized by playfulness and creativity accompanied by a feeling of mystical connectedness within nature. The trials were unpleasant and characterized by a feeling of the world turning sour around me.

Beginning early in 1996, I entered into low years. They were low in terms of creativity, at times in terms of mild depression and anxiety, and at other times in terms of delusion and even paranoia. For some past figures such low years seem to have lasted seven years, but for me they have lasted 18.5 years (as of July 29, 2014). So far, I think since I have had modern medicines, and since lifespans are longer today on average, it could be that my low years will not last much longer than 18 years (7 years plus an 11 year sunspot cycle). I hope to come out of them soon after this writing date, which is August 20, 2014. But on my current medication regimen, 1250 mg divalproex sodium and 10 mg olanzapine nightly, the low years are not very low except in terms of creativity.

I have also done comparisons of my cycles to those of past figures. The three figures I have the most evidence that I am similar to are Gwion (Taliesin), the Turquoise Bee, and Jesus (the heavens opening and wings descending during Jesus' baptism I liken to my sun stare experience which I described earlier). For more detail on my comparisons to them and several other past figures, and on my mystic bipolar autobiographical details, please do a web search for Salmon on the Thorns.

What's Wrong with My Daughter?

What's Wrong with My Daughter?

By Diane

Desperate to Find the Reason For Her Behavior

I had the most amazing daughter for 18 years. She was a beautiful child. Everyone loved her and she loved everyone. She was so happy that she smiled when she slept. She was a straight-A student and although she had ADHD, it only seemed to enhance her life. Even as a teenager, she was delightful with none of the rebelliousness or drug use most parents dread.
When she turned 18, however, something changed. It seemed to happen overnight. Her behavior became erratic, sparking explosive fights with her boyfriend. It still wasn't presenting so much at home, so I chalked it up to him. It couldn't be her.
Little by little she changed. She drifted away from us. This girl who once idolized her mother, suddenly couldn't stand me. She started drinking more, getting tattoos, and became someone I just did not recognize. I remember telling my friend I felt like my Shauna had died and this strange new girl had replaced her. I was heartbroken.
The week she was breaking up with her boyfriend of one year, screaming at him that she despised him right in front of me, she became pregnant. Then she became so happy. She decided to stay with the guy. My grandson is now two-years-old. My daughter expressed anger over my not being present when he was born. Everyone used to make such a big deal about how close we were. They were envious.

In my wildest dreams I never would have imagined how she could get so angry at me in an instant, and go for weeks without speaking to me. I would tear my hair out trying to figure out the reason. Was it me? Did I deserve this?
I finally put it all together after an especially rough week. She had exploded in her husband’s restaurant and made a huge scene because she thought the staff was purposely ignoring her. She dragged her sick son out into freezing weather to make her husband pay for not responding to her texts, and she completely melted down at my house because she was furious at me for serving her brother dinner at his computer. She was so mad she dragged her son back out into the cold and went home to the husband she was also angry with.
I finally started Googling her symptoms—paranoia, extreme anger, fear of being alone, intense anxiety—and finally I had it: borderline personality disorder. It fit all the criteria. I just could not believe it took so long. All these years of anguish. I could see now how families would go through this and never know the reason, how someone with borderline personality disorder would go on endlessly being undiagnosed. I could not believe that for all the Oprah and Dr. Phil I watched, that this had never come up. It’s tragic that there isn't more awareness about this type of mental illness.

Trying to compress ten years into words, it is comforting to finally have an explanation for the very extreme behavior I experienced with my daughter. It is my mission to share this information so that other families don't have to guess for ten years about their loved one’s unusual behavior. It should not have to be so difficult.

Bipolar, With a Side Order of Psychosis

Bipolar, With a Side Order of Psychosis

By Jason Matlack, CPS

How My Illness Was a Blessing In Disguise

It's amazing how sometimes the worst things in our lives can become our greatest assets. It isn't the cards we're dealt but the way we play our hand. Who would have thought having mental illness would become the exact thing that has made my life worthwhile.

I never did well in school. When I was young they didn't have all of these diagnoses and tests to discover what was what. Maybe that was a good thing. Even though I always felt like I was failing at a lot of things in my life I never seemed to give up. Without a diagnosis I did not have an excuse to give up.

Growing up I experienced sexual abuse at an early age. I don't know how much of that played a part in my mental illness. That experience and my inability to keep up with my peers in school always made me feel inadequate. Sometimes I would fail tests that I would have passed because I didn't meet the time frame.

I discovered alcohol and marijuana at an early age. When I drank and got high all those feelings of inadequacy went away. In fact, with a little alcohol I became self-confident, or so I thought. I never drank like regular folks from the start. I drank too much and too often.

When not drinking, my self-hatred surfaced and I would say horrible things to myself in the mirror. Sometimes I would do things to hurt myself. I thought about suicide often. Drinking to oblivion was my only release.

I began to drink to the point of blacking out and became violent when drinking. At 19-years-old my verbal abuse turned into an attempt to beat up my girlfriend. I finally sought help in a 12-step program. I was raised in a loving family and thought female abusers were the bottom of the barrel. I moved out on my own, partially blaming my unhappiness.

I couldn't remain sober because of the secrets of the abuse and dysfunction in my childhood. I ended up in rehab and stayed sober for eight years with the help my involvement in a 12-step program. Even then I still didn't fit in. I was able to curb the anger and dealt with my childhood by finding peace and self-forgiveness. But the bipolar mood swings were a constant battle. While in my mid to late twenties I began to experience psychotic episodes. After indulging in the instant gratification of mania, I would then experience great guilt.

Once the psychotic episodes began, I would go super spiritual and hear a voice I thought was God. The business that I had started and ran for fourteen years began to fall apart due to my inability to cope. My wife couldn't take it and we ended up divorcing.

I started drinking again every now and then since my episodes isolated me. But I did not drink much. Instead, I would smoke marijuana. I didn't realize it, but the smoking prevented my psychotic episodes from occurring. Unlike alcohol, marijuana did not cause me to black out or become violent.

By my mid-thirties I lost my business. I went through some sales and management jobs, but manic episodes only caused more compulsive decisions.

When the economy crashed, the time share company I worked for as a marketing manager laid off 50% of the work force. I went into a psychosis that lasted about a year, thinking I was the second coming of Jesus Christ.

When the psychosis broke, I admitted myself to a psychiatric hospital. That was where I was diagnosed and started to receive proper medical care. It is also where I had my “Patch Adams” moment. I knew I wanted to get into the mental health field and help others like myself.

I had a difficult time coming to terms with the guilt from the damage I had caused others with my manic episodes and psychosis. I experienced a lot of anger about being born with this condition and became angry with God. Thoughts of suicide continued to plague me regularly.

I continued in sales, which I hated, but it was the only skill I knew would earn me enough money to survive. After getting laid off from a job selling cars, my therapist told me about a Certified Peer Specialist job, which is someone with a mental health diagnosis who helps others recover from their mental illness and create a better life for themselves.

I have been a Certified Peer Specialist for almost a year now. It is the best thing that has ever happened to me. I thrive on the personal satisfaction of helping others and witnessing their progress. This job is what I was looking for my entire life but was unaware of it. Every day I go to my job with great enthusiasm. If I wouldn't have gone through hell, I would have not found heaven.

All I can say is that to those of you who think you can't, you have to know that you can. To those who are our supporters, do not sell us short. It is through your support and encouragement that we will soar to new heights.

The common threads to those that find a quality life are those that have support, whether it is family, friends or professionals. No one can do this alone. If you do not belong to a support group please find one. There are some that meet in person. If that isn't possible, there are tons of them on the internet. I belong to a few myself. There are also support groups for our supporters. I love you all and good luck on your journey!

Changes in SSI and SSDI Benefits for 2015

 Changes in SSI and SSDI Benefits for 2015

By Ted Walner, Peer Advocate, Brooklyn Peer Advocacy Center, Baltic Street AEH, Inc.

With the recent onset of 2015, the Social Security Administration has made changes in the amounts we receive as well as in the amounts we can earn to qualify for benefits. Firstly there has been a 1.7% increase to the beneficiaries. This is a slightly higher increase than that of the previous year.

The monthly maximum amount of SSI has increased from $721 per month to $733 for an individual. It has also increased to $1,100 per month for a couple from $1,082 previously. The allowable assets for SSI remain the same. They are $2000 for an individual and $3000 for a couple.

A person receiving SSDI must earn less than $1,090 per month to qualify for benefits. This is an increase from $1070 per month last year. A trial work period for an SSDI recipient will count if they earn over $780 per month. This is also increased from $770 per month, last year.

I hope these changes are easy to understand. Basically entitlements have gone up for the New Year. Enjoy the increase and spend wisely!