Experiences of Schizophrenia: Hallucinations, Hospitals, and Photophobia

Living with Schizophrenia: My First Hospital Stay

My first series of hospitalizations occurred in a major episode of psychosis in 2009.

I had been living in Seattle, and after a time, my insight dwindled into my condition. I experimented going without my medications for a day or two here or there (eventually becoming nonadherent), and after a year or so, I began to hallucinate and develop delusions. The discomfort was so intense, I went against my better judgement and sought help.

The mood stabilizer my doctor prescribed after I had panicked my way into their office for an intake interview gave me hope. But after a few weeks of torment and inability to reason, I attempted suicide and was taken by ambulance to an emergency room, shortly transferred to a psychiatric ward when ready.

The hospital was about what I would expect (similar to the clinics I go to for medication management). It had white walls, cold tile floors, and staff outfitted in scrubs.

The patients had a lot more autonomy than I expected. They gathered in groups playing cards or just chatting, but nothing seemed outwardly remarkable about the group. They looked depressed, sure, but that’s about it. I saw myself a lot like them and could only guess who else may have experienced psychosis.

Group therapy sessions were light, and they seemed mainly designed to keep people from getting bored. In one, the therapist instructed us to go around the room and say our favorite movie and why we chose it.

I sat halfway through the circle, and after I offered the answer Pulp Fiction, a woman’s voice in the room shouted, Pan’s Labrinth correcting my answer.

I looked to see who had shouted, and I saw someone resembling my ex sitting in a chair, apparently put out that I hadn’t chosen the first movie we’d seen together. It wasn’t quite her though. Her voice was different and the person I could see was covered in a strange black material and was grossly textured.

After I looked for a moment, the figure in the chair faded slowly until it nearly disappeared. Looking away and back again briefly produced the same result each time I focused on her until she vanished completely.

My hallucinations most often manifest as a cooccurrence with delusion, and the greater delusion I had at the time centered around a consortium of time travelers tracking and tormenting me by technology outside of possibilities. I obsessed about microscopic, imperceptible cameras orbiting my face, and as a result of the gross invasion of my space, they could catalogue my thoughts, based on facial expression alone and the building indemnity I was sure to face at having caused everyone so much trouble.

Their (perceived) surveillance also led me to believe anyone could “hear” my thoughts, as if broadcast out of my head and transmitted to the people around me (the miniature, flying, delusional machines hovering who knows where).

I felt like I had no secrets. No privacy. No way of retaining my autonomy. Only the taunts of visions of my ex and so many other perceived indicators that I was truly worthless when my life added up to that moment. Things changed the moment I accepted that schizophrenia was bigger than me and not in my power to fight it. My sister, Lu, especially, had been very concerned and she took the random calls at any hour with support and good humor. I then contacted my parents after I was discharged and driven back by cab to the place I was staying.

I did not anticipate how steadfast my family would be while in my sad state. But my parents and siblings immediately organized a way for me to get home. It's strange. The night of the attempt I called my parents. My dad asked what I was thinking about. I couldn't give an answer. I just said there was no one who liked me.

My future is fairly bright by my math now. I will likely have another episode in the future, but I don’t feel encumbered by the delusions I had and the nihilistic determination to die.

Experiences of Schizophrenia: What Does Photophobia Feel Like?

Most people are undisturbed when light comes or goes. But depression, delusion, and, insomnia becomes pervasive in photophobia. Nights start to stretch longer and further than the optimism I normally feel each morning. I begin to tumble in irregular wakefulness and restfulness as the days add up.

Certain colors seem to flare up and envelope my body in a hardening sap. My shoulders shirk, and my arms, neck, and legs feel like they're fixed in a binding. My physical senses feel contorted, and my defenses against anxiety are seized.

Note to Self

Humans have already created thousands of them, so whether or not god exists is irrelevant by the numbers. Whatever gets you through, believe that.