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In third grade I started hearing voices, seeing people chasing me, feeling paranoid, confused, and delusional. I can't remember before third grade, but it is likely that I have had schizoaffective disorder all my life. I was afraid to tell anyone about my issues because I was afraid that the voices would kill me. There were two main voices: the blue and the red. They sometimes just mimicked me, or made me feel guilty about being bad, but they were the most dangerous when they commanded me to kill other people or myself. I found refuge from the voices by cutting myself to see the blood. This is…mehr

Produktbeschreibung
In third grade I started hearing voices, seeing people chasing me, feeling paranoid, confused, and delusional. I can't remember before third grade, but it is likely that I have had schizoaffective disorder all my life. I was afraid to tell anyone about my issues because I was afraid that the voices would kill me. There were two main voices: the blue and the red. They sometimes just mimicked me, or made me feel guilty about being bad, but they were the most dangerous when they commanded me to kill other people or myself. I found refuge from the voices by cutting myself to see the blood. This is a habit that has been almost impossible for me to stop. In the seventh grade I threatened my friends and teachers by writing anonymous threat notes. I eventually got caught and I was sent to a psychiatrist by the school. This was my first trip to a psychiatrist and I was eleven years old. I hated it. I cursed at her and wouldn't cooperate. I never went back. When I was twelve my family moved to Seattle, Washington. I thought I would be able to start over with my life and escape all my pain. Unfortunately, the voices and fears followed me. I was in eighth grade and I started hanging with a bad crowd. I used drugs and had sex. The voices were telling me I was a bad person, so I acted like a bad person. I almost got kicked out of school. I hit rock bottom on December 5, 1997. I attempted suicide. No one had any idea how much pain I was in and this really surprised them. My parents went into shock. My school counselor who had been helping had no idea that I was so severely ill. I told the doctors about the voices and the visions, but I couldn't admit to being paranoid because I was so sure that my delusions were real. The doctors tried to help me, but nothing helped. I was in the hospital for most of my senior year of high school. Finally I turned eighteen and I was sent to the adult medical center instead of the children's hospital an