I was 48 years old and I had just moved into a like-new studio apartment by myself. Me and my family assumed that was where I would live for the rest of my life. But I stayed there 6 years and went through a bunch of crap with neighbors almost the whole time. And moved out after 6 years. There was always a subtle feeling of reverse racism because there were a certain group who were the majority.
But some people in the complex liked me. The lady two doors down couldn’t speak English but we were always friendly and we exchanged cards and gifts each Christmas and during the year we talked a little and she liked to leave little bags of food by my door which was always a nice surprise.
But I was unhappy there a lot but I still did fun things and got out and I had a car and I drove all over the place, had a couple of friends. Anyways, I was working at Kohl’s most of that time and some people there liked me even though I didn’t talk much. I impressed some people there.
I used to walk around the area at night by myself like at 2:00 am or 3:00 am and go to the Walgreens behind the complex or just randomly walk around. Or drive all over all night. I loved living with my cat and having a space to call my own and I didn’t have to answer to anyone.
10 years ago i was 18 and starting my first year of university. its dec so maybe would have been close to christmas break…exam times? sheesh, yea probably studying/writing stressing for my first university exams
Recently married, already sick but stable, working managing group homes for adults with developmental disabilities, severely anorexic and being threatened with a feeding tube, starting to really go down hill with my chronic pain.
I was at home playing FPS games to the point of joint agony. Pretty idiotic, but if there was a way to do that for a living safely, I’d be all over it.
Ten years ago, I was 49 years old and my long, thick, wavy hair was falling out in clumps. I ended up having to cut it really short. That was a heartbreak. The dawn of menopause.
I also was in my first year of Risperdal Consta shots and I had already lost my ability to perform on my piano because of it. Another real bad heartbreak.
Almost nine years ago, I lost my only child to suicide. That was my worst heartbreak.
Ten years ago I was on a high dose of AP’s and trying to recover from bouts of psychosis. I was eating a ton and sleeping a ton. I was living with my parents (I was 30 at the time). I was unemployed, but had some savings. I don’t remember a lot of details, probably because I was eating and sleeping most of the time
December 2009 I was moving back home after spending 4 months with an abusive, drug addicted boyfriend. He never laid a hand on me, but he was verbally and emotionally abusive.
I was a shell of my former self. I cried a lot, barely ate, didn’t dare to breathe wrong.
I remember my mother being worried I had autism and that the ordeal with Leon had triggered something.
Were still like a kid when 26 in some ways. Didnt like my job but free time was quite nice. Played alot of computergames and flew modell airplanes with some fellows.
Were some years left before becoming really ill.
I was 27. I just started the relationship with the father of my son, which already had turned weird by then. I had never been psychotic and had all my fears and fearful experiences nicely in boxes somewhere in the back of my mind. A few months later i would find myself to be pregnant…just after quitting the relationship. I also worked fulltime in a good job, had friends near. I lived in a small studio. It was a completely different life.
10 years ago:
In university studying physics, struggling with many of the courses, due to who knows what. During classes I couldn’t relate things being talked about to what I was supposed to relate them to. I remember often I couldn’t decide whether I should look at the lecturer or at the slides being shown, while listening, suspecting my ability to comprehend what was being told could depend on that. Often the talk went in one ear and out the other, or didn’t enter my mind at all.
10 years ago would have been my senior year at university. I was vibrant, studying hard, and partying every weekend.
I would start to have paranoia that next semester, thinking my professors had assigned me certain things on purpose, but held out until 2014-- when I experienced psychosis for the first time.
2009 was an awesome year-- grateful for those memories.
I was in the throws of psychosis and paranoia but still working and hadn’t figured out I was sick yet. Bought a house in Texas that year. Renting it out now.
I was one of the only two of us in grade 10 that know how to speak English in the classroom!! That got me to a scholarship to USA where schizophrenia started. Seriously I was alone. And alone. And I found out I was alone. When the community college noticed I was tripping along. I was sent home where I belong.
