At age 27, Whitney Mensah was diagnosed with schizophrenia. She has been symptom-free for ten years and tells her story.
While holding this tiny, round, white tablet in my palm, I cried and considered throwing it down the toilet. I’m not sure why I’m taking this. What exactly does this imply? Taking medication meant I had a problem, in my opinion. There wasn’t anything wrong with me, I didn’t believe.
The first time I saw a psychiatrist, I was catatonic and was accompanied by two of my closest friends. I knew I was in trouble when I couldn’t sleep at night because my mind was racing with ideas and I could hear constant chattering in my room.
I dialed the number of one of my friends. Around five o’clock in the morning, he arrived to pick me up right away. He got me an emergency appointment with his own doctor as quickly as he could. He and another friend spoke with the doctor on my behalf. I’m not sure how much information they had.
Perhaps the doctor had given them a diagnosis. I didn’t. I don’t recall taking medication for the first time, but it knocked me unconscious and cleared my thoughts for a few days. “Take this tablet every day and you’ll be fine,” I was instructed.
Every night, I took a tablet, but I was still not feeling well. I battled without knowing what my diagnosis was or understanding the condition I had. For the most part, the drug worked to stop the voices talking, or auditory hallucinations. However, I was still perplexed by what I had experienced: a young man conversing with me and attempting to impress me by playing my favorite songs on the radio.
The medication didn’t erase those memories for me. I needed a rationale for what I had heard and felt, as well as what I remembered. I’m determined to know the truth! When I was alone, I retraced my steps and relived those memories in my head.
Aside from past memories, I occasionally heard new voices. I couldn’t talk to my doctor about how to deal with my symptoms since I didn’t know if what I was going through was related to a condition that could be treated.
I needed to understand what was going on with me. This is my life! I managed to correct some confusing thoughts. But it was until a group of doctors and nurses in a hospital became my caretakers that things changed. They conversed with me and gradually helped me connect the dots. I finally realized what was going on. All of those incomprehensible sensations, voices, and signals were fabricated by my own brain. It was my brain that did it!
I was in the correct frame of mind to talk to a doctor at this point. “What do I have?” I inquired of my doctor, now that I was aware I had a medical condition. He said, “Schizophrenia.” After 6 years of taking medication, I finally received a diagnosis.
I was able to study more about schizophrenia and have meaningful conversations with my psychiatrist after receiving my diagnosis. I took an active role in the management of my condition. This condition could be resolved by taking the medication regularly, having enough sleep, reducing stress, and seeking medical assistance when new symptoms flared up.
Knowing I have schizophrenia, giving it a name, and then understanding and embracing it as the first step toward treating it has allowed me to live a healthier life.
