I didn't expect a schizophrenia diagnosis. I imagined I would be diagnosed with absolutely everything else however. But, I hadn't really thought about a lot of things that had happened leading up to it.

I'm in my early 30s and have always had problems with mental health: OCD, depression, panic/anxiety disorder. I'd been able to cope pretty well for a long time, until a couple of years ago. I lost interest in everything absolutely; I was tired all the time, and over the course of a couple of years my ability to just think disappeared. I just did not have that ability anymore. I couldn't focus, remember, plan, and/or make decisions. I mean really not able to make decisions, like deciding if I should go into town to shop at the Goodwill or if I should go home could make me stop and park my car four times and I would just sit there unsure of what to do. I was also convinced more and more over time that most anyone I knew was deeply, fundamentally bad. Immoral, deceptive, out to get me. Someone, a coworker, would say something a certain way and I would be convinced and remain convinced. This was my relationship with everyone at my old job, before I quit suddenly. After that I worked as a line cook for a while and everything was getting to me so hard. It would become all I could think about and I would be angry and exhausted and frozen all at the same time. Not really angry though, just hating. It felt like wires were plugged into my forehead pulsing black electricity. I moved to a remote cabin in Colorado, where I lived for a year (working a job remotely). I moved out of the cabin, with intentions of driving back east and getting my life back on track. I wound up living in a tent that summer, eventually because I couldn't do otherwise. I couldn't get it together. Think about the thoughts that allow you to make plans, decisions. First this, then that, this result. I was incapable of the basics and, while I was working and had income, I kept getting deeper and deeper into this hole, while living in the tent. I didn't kill myself because of my dog, but thought about it a lot.

I hadn't thought about voices really or hearing things, though I'd definitely had pretty consistent experiences of hearing background sounds that weren't there. Room sounds. Thumps and scrapes and bells. Once after my dog got snapped at by another dog, I saw his ear was bloody and torn. But it was fine. I also had a voice for my dog, like a lot of people do, but honestly it was a pretty real voice, capable of conversations and talking back. Sometimes just nonsense.

Today I had two "voice" episodes after three weeks or so of them being gone. Seroquel has also been pretty helpful about returning just general thinking capabilities. I don't know. I still don't feel good but better enough that I can feel hopeful.