Day three without any major mental illness symptoms. I can get carried away and think I am cured.
"Do I have to take these medications for the rest of my life?" I asked my father last night.
"I believe you will," he said. "Don't start back wanting to go off them."
"I was just curious," I replied defensively. My father is so pro-medication.
I now realized know why I drank all those years. I was miserable. I drank to cover up the symptoms of my schizophrenia. Drink was sedating, depressing, and subduing. It made me to not have a care in the world. Little did I know, I was committing slow suicide.
When I get a string of days where I feel well, then I can get cocky. I want to tackle the whole world and climb proverbial mountains. I also get bored and start thinking of jobs, good jobs. Jobs that will pay me a living wage. These are normal dreams not usually entertained by someone with my lot on life. It feels good. I feel confident. I want to tell the whole world!