I feel like my friends are going to get hurt and the person who hurts them is a schizophrenic.
What if someone does harm when my friends are at a conference, and the person is deemed to be schizophrenic?
I have a terrible feeling about my friends. I don’t want them to get hurt.
Plus, my friends do know that I’m schizophrenic. Having someone hurt them will severe my relationships with them.
This kind of issue is similar to anxiety about subway trains. Every now and then an accident happens, someone falls on the tracks and gets run over by the train. However, the vast majority of the time, people use the subway with no incident, getting safely from one place to another, no accidents. I’d say the same is true of people going to conferences, usually there’s no issue. Most likely your friends will not get hurt by a schizophrenic.
The percentage of this happening is near impossible, 0.1% or even less. You worry too much. Every schizophrenic is different and even if it happens, they still know that you’re different from that person.
Am I worrying too much or is this a stupid delusion I have?
You’re worrying too much. I think what you’re doing without realizing is thinking of how it’s technically not impossible for your friends to get hurt by a schizophrenic, and reacting to the idea of it happening as though there’s a good chance of it happening. What we’re saying is, it could happen in theory, but it’s so unlikely to happen that you shouldn’t be worrying about it.
Schizophrenics are also far more likely to be victims of violence and abuse. If you think about it that way, we are just disabled people who hold no power over the normal person. Majority of schizophrenics are not dangerous if treated with medications.
They have the same chance of getting hurt as anyone else. Which also means they have the same chance of not getting hurt.
Life is a risk but the odds of being a victim of random violence are low. I could step out my front door to get the mail and and a deranged homeless guy off his meds could sneak up behind me and stab me. Or more realistically, I could step out my front door every day for the next twenty years and absolutely nothing happens to me except maybe a bird flying overhead craps on my shoulder or I trip on my welcome mat and stumble into a bush.
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