Psychosis: My Journey to Recovery
Psychosis is often described as losing touch with reality, but for me, I never truly realized I had lost it. I ignored the signs, convinced myself I was okay—even when I wasn’t. In doing so, I only made things worse.
I’m 19, and I have experienced psychosis. It was, without a doubt, the most terrifying and disorienting experience of my life. Imagine feeling like a stranger in your own mind, losing your grip on reality without even realizing it. But before you let that scare you, know this—it didn’t break me. If anything, it shaped me into the person I am today: stronger, braver, and more self-aware than ever before. For the first time in my life, I truly feel like me—and that is the most empowering feeling in the world.
The Breaking Point
In October 2023, my entire world shifted. I lost my closest friends and even my relationship with my father. It was devastating. But through that loss, my bond with my mom and brother became ten times stronger. If it weren’t for them, I might not be here today. A support system is everything, and I know how difficult it can be to trust people. But in our case it’s good to lean on people the most in our recovery, because we need them & their help to get better.
There were days when I completely dissociated. It’s strange because I remember bits and pieces. I remember reading constantly because I didn’t have a phone. I wrote a lot, trying to untangle my thoughts—thoughts that often felt distant, fragmented, or nonexistent.
Finding Stability
Medication saved my life, but finding the right one was far from easy. At first, I was prescribed a high dose of Olanzapine, an antipsychotic that, while intended to help, came with side effects that made me feel even more disconnected from myself. The most noticeable was severe weight gain, but beyond that, I felt sluggish, detached, and like a dulled version of who I once was. My energy was gone, my spark had faded, and even the people closest to me—my family and friends—noticed the drastic change. They grew concerned, and honestly, so did I.
I knew something had to change, so I had an open and honest conversation with my psychiatrist. I told him everything—how I was feeling, what I was experiencing, and how much I just wanted to feel like me again. He listened, truly listened, and together, we decided to switch to a lower dose of Latuda, another antipsychotic. From the moment I started taking it, things slowly began to shift. My mind felt clearer, my energy started returning, and for the first time in a long time, I felt like myself again.
The difference was undeniable—not just to me, but to everyone around me. My friends, my family, even casual acquaintances began telling me, You seem like yourself again. Hearing those words filled me with an overwhelming sense of relief and joy. I had spent so long feeling lost, trapped in a mind that didn’t feel like my own, but now, I finally feel free. I’m more present, more engaged, and more me than I’ve been in a long time. And that, more than anything, makes me incredibly happy.
The Road to Recovery
I can’t put into words just how lost I was—endless restless days, sleepless nights, extreme highs that felt invincible, and crushing lows that felt inescapable. I was barely a shadow of myself. Physically, I looked sick. I wasn’t eating, barely moving, merely existing. But in reality, I wasn’t living at all.
But now?
I’m back in school, rebuilding my life one step at a time. My relationships are stronger and healthier than ever, built on trust, understanding, and genuine connection. Socializing, which once felt like an impossible task, is now something I crave—I love conversations, expressing myself freely, and sharing my thoughts without fear. For the first time in a long time, I feel heard, confident, and completely myself.
At my lowest, I lost control. In a manic episode, I destroyed my room, shattered two TVs, and felt like everything around me was crumbling just as much as I was inside. It wasn’t just about the physical damage—it was a reflection of how chaotic and lost I felt within myself. My space, which once brought me comfort, became a reminder of the turmoil I couldn’t escape.
But I refused to let that be the end of my story. Piece by piece, I rebuilt it—not just the walls and furniture, but my sense of stability and peace. I chose the colors, rearranged the space, and made it my own again. To some, redecorating a room might seem insignificant, but to me, it was everything. My room isn’t just a place to sleep—it’s my sanctuary, my safe space, the one place where my mind can finally rest. And after everything I had been through, I needed to make it feel like home again.
A New Chapter
In just three months, I’ll be graduating with a diploma in Nursing Assistance—a milestone that, at one point, felt impossible. There were days when I couldn’t even imagine making it to the next morning, let alone achieving something this significant. But here I am, standing on the edge of a fresh start, ready to build a life I’m proud of. This isn’t just a career path for me; it’s a symbol of everything I’ve overcome, a testament to my resilience, and a reminder that even after the darkest moments, there is still hope.
If you’re struggling, please know this: it does get better. No matter how lost or broken you feel right now, you are not alone. Healing takes time, and some days will still feel heavy, but every step forward—no matter how small—is proof of your strength. One day, just like me, you’ll look back and realize that everything you’ve been through has only made you stronger. And you’ll see yourself not as someone who barely survived, but as someone who truly lived.
Thank you.
By: Anonymous