The Battle

One night when I was ill I was reading Being and Nothingness by Jean Paul Sartre. Then the battle began. I was getting messages that there was no God. All I need to decide is whether to kill my self or not kill myself. Then I started hearing voices saying kill yourself kill yourself. There is no God you will stop existing and your suffering would end. Kill yourself kill yourself.

Then I was getting different messages. There is a God there is a God. Kill yourself you will go to hell you will go to hell. Then a great fear arose in my mind. If I kill myself I will go to hell.

My mind was going back and forth between these two messages. I was in psychological and emotional torment and torture. Fear was rushing through my whole being with great force and power. I didn't know what to do about the situation.

I decided to call up my psychiatrist. I told him what was going on. All he told was to take an extra chlorpromazine, go to bed and things will be better in the morning. I took the extra pill. It didn't do any good. I was awake all night suffering from this battle going on in my mind. The fear was so great I cannot describe it in words. While all this was going on all I did was pace the floor back and forth, back and forth. I couldn't sit still for two minutes.

I didn't get any sleep until three in the morning the next day. I was awake for more than 24 hours. I am not sure how many. Why did I have to go through all that. My psychiatrist should have sent me to the hospital and met me there. He should have tried to do something for me. Maybe give me an injection for the purpose of reducing the symptoms I was experiencing. There are medications out there that can be given in injection form that can start working immediately. No. I had to stay home and suffer needlessly.

Mom and Dad had to take turns watching me while I was going through this psychotic experience. I was afraid and they were afraid that I would actually attempt suicide for the next 20 hours or so. They took turns sleeping and watching me. To be honest with everyone I do not know how I managed to get through that experience and still come out the other side alive.

At the present moment I am very glad and grateful that I did survive this experience. For the simple reason that now I am recovering from my schizophrenia, have a wonderful wife, been clean and sober for 9 years, been able to work for the last 7 or 8 years, have fun with my hobbies, have more friends than I did when I was ill, and just simply enjoying life and having a ball. I now love life, I love being alive, and have the driving force within me to do things and be successful. The more I do the better. I want to leave behind a legacy when I pass on from this life. There is a saying, "when it's all over all that matters is what you have done." I just have that drive to do, do, do and succeed at what I am doing.

Recovery is truly possible.