Impact of schizoaffective disorder :Part One

How schizoaffective disorder impacted the relationship with my family is both complex and in some way difficult to explain. The paranoia that I have often manifests in feelings and thoughts that people are out to hold me back or destroy me. Couple this with the fact that illness also can make me think that people can read my mind and that they are judging me based upon my thoughts and it quickly becomes a shit storm.

For the most part my family is unaware of the fact that I have schizoaffective, They are still under the belief that I suffer from bipolar disorder. At this time I have chosen not to explain to my parents my true diagnosis because even though they are educated that still fall prey to stigmatizing those with mental illness. So by telling them my actual diagnosis I risk having them become even angrier than they already are.

In their minds people with serious mental illnesses must have done something thing that caused it.They are also under the mistaken belief that people with psychotic illnesses such as schizoaffective have extremely low levels of functioning and need to be hospitalized. Both of which are untrue. Yes,having schizoaffective does impact my relationship with them but I am not really sure that this impact could be changed by full disclosure.

One of ways that my relationship with them has been impacted negatively involves trust. I don't really trust them and I am highly suspicious of their motives. Often times my thoughts revolve around how they have not only hate me but that they have gone out of their way to make sure that I don't succeed in life. I have found myself studying their facial expressions looking for clues that might betray their true intentions.

As you can imagine this has caused a major strain on our relationship. In the past, before I had some insight into my illness I would become argumentative and down right nasty verbally to them. What they saw was an ungrateful daughter and what I saw was two people tying to destroy my life. There was also a tendency for them to mock my illness. They couldn't figure out why their child spoke of bizarre things such as demons and the fact that I lived an alternate life. They couldn't grasp the concept that these beliefs were a symptom of a serious illness and instead made fun of it.

They also placed extraordinary high expectations on me. I was expected to go to college, never mind the fact that I was far from stable and had little to no support system in place. As you can imagine it worked out as would be expected, I failed out of college. The instability I had in relation to my illness and my near lack of support made it difficult to achieve even simple goals.

During that time period therapy sessions were futile. I got very little out of it because the majority of family sessions revolved around typical teenager behaviors such as lack of a clean room, preference for hanging out with friends over family. There were a few behaviors that were brought up that were legitimately the result of my illnesses but they were resistant to suggestions form my treatment team.

For them my illness was a badge of shame. Something that wasn't talked about. This meant that I had no outlet to unload my inner thoughts and fears, I would remain silent during therapy or choose to only talk about things that were of little value. This is also why that therapist and psychiatrist missed the symptoms of schizoaffective disorder.

There was so much talk of why the medicine wasn't working. I would be accused of not taking them. Yet I did take them as was prescribed. I would be told time and time again by my parents that all I needed was a swift dose of reality, yet what I needed was medication that would help quell the broken mind I had. In effect my own silence on the full extent of my symptoms meant that I was only being treated for one half of it.

The breaking point came in my very early twenties. I was tired of the ridicule. Tired of the perceived anger and hatred toward me. I was tired of the shame and eye rolling I got when I tried to discuss my illness. I was mentally worn down from both my battle with my illness alone and trying to get across that I wasn't playing games, a phrase I heard often when symptoms would interfere with my life. and left the area. For years I distanced myself from them having minimal contact with them. In my opinion that seemed to help a little. Once I moved back o the area though those thoughts came back full force and were actually even stronger. I would again seek treatment, but only after having suffered a severe bought of psychosis. It was during this new venture back into therapy that I would be diagnosed as having schizoaffective disorder.

There is a part of me that knows that I should explain my illness and the way that it manifests to them. But at the same time I fear the disappointment and anger that might be displayed even if those perceptions of their reactions are a figment of my illness. Too great is the rift between us for me to rely on them for support. Instead I bumble along, make do what I do have and do my best to keep my contact with them to a minimum. In the near future I will moving away again, perhaps then I will tell them and attempt to educate them on this illness.

If you are the parent of a person with mental illness please educate yourself on it. Don’t give into the temptation to blame. No one is at fault, not you not them. Support them as much as you can. Open those lines of dialog so that they feel safe talking to you. Treat them no differently as you would if they had a serious physical illness. Because the nature of these illnesses are brain related doesn't make them any different or real. Don't make them feel as if there illness makes them second class. Instead surround them with as much love and support that they need to aid in their recovery. That is the single important thing you can do for your son or daughter.