My life with Schizo-affective disorder.

I’ll never forget the day that I spoke Schizophrenia into my life. I was preparing to go out to a party with friends and family, when I asked my bro KK, “Do you think Schizophrenics have a gift to see and hear things that the rest of the world just can’t?”

“Yeah sis,” KK said, “I believe their pineal gland is more open than the average person’s.”

“We’ll have this conversation later,” KK said. But we never did.

Instead, not even a month later, I was diagnosed with Schizoaffective disorder. A cross-breed between Schizophrenia and Bipolar Disorder 1.

Everyone was shocked. They couldn’t understand how after so much time and effort I put into college, I’d just drop it all one day and walk away. Some said it was Schizophrenia, others said I was demented. None of them actually tried to talk to me about it, not even a majority of my “family”.

For three years, this disease has taken over my life. It’s been an endless cycle of trial and error; like playing Russian Roulette with fate every single moment of the day.

I’m not going to lie, I’ve hurt a lot of people in the process of accepting my disease. I’ve lost my entire family and friends: 1) because I’d turn into a complete monster when I was having a Schizophrenic episode, and 2) because I completely alienated myself from the world after I was diagnosed.

While having an episode, nothing seems real.

It starts with me calculating different theories such as, for example, the Illuminati or The Transgender Agenda; and trying to discern/make logic of it all. This would then cause me to stay up for days. And unfortunately, lack of sleep triggers even more delusions… so I was stuck in a mental cycle of literally dreaming while awake. I’ve had “visions” of everything from the end of life, life outside of earth (with spaceships being a significant factor), and often, the exposure of a person’s true identity. I don’t know how to describe it, it just felt like I could look at someone and see their soul. Their true being.

My first episode was the most traumatic one. But also the most comical.

I was a senior at the University of Delaware, and I remember I was obsessed with the book, The Autobiography of Malcolm X. I ate that book up. And when I say that, I mean I literally took every word for truth, every sentence for fact.

But there was something that deeply resonated with me when I got to the point where Malcolm X called white people “devils”. I don’t know why it hit me as hard as it did, but it did.

From that moment henceforth, a seed had been planted. A seed that eventually grew into an enormous bean stalk that took almost 4 years to uproot.

I remember walking around Main St., a popular bar/restaurant street on the university’s campus, calling every white person and their momma “devils”, and emphasizing to black people that they need to form allegiances instead of following the “white devil” to destruction. People were appalled. And honestly, looking back, I would’ve been too. I’m honestly surprised nobody called the police on me or something.

After that incident , I lost all my friends and half of my family. The only person that really stuck with me through thick and thin was my step mom, a woman whom I have hurt deeply since I was diagnosed with Schizoaffective disorder. I’m on medication and doing a lot better now, but the relationships I severed, such as my step mom’s, are broken beyond repair [now].

By the way, I forgot to mention that everything was perfectly normal until I took a trip to Atlanta with this girl who was acting like my best friend, but in reality I think she was a witch in disguise and she tried to curse me. No but seriously. The timeline just doesn’t make sense. But more on that later.

There’s so much more to say about my experiences with Schizophrenia/Schizoaffective disorder, and I think I’ll dedicated a whole series just for that topic alone.

One thing I will say, is that EVERYBODY who did make the effort to talk to me, emphasized that I needed my meds, but unofrtunatley part of the disease is believing you don’t need medication, so I always refused.

Actually, I was more on a cycle of on-and-off medicine. It was trial and error until literally about 3 months ago. And now I finally feel like I’m getting back to my regular self.

Peace and love,



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