By the Author / Source: abuaram.site
I went through intermittent episodes of schizophrenia, characterized by a spirit of delirium, adventure, and an unquenchable thirst for life. I longed to be in constant motion, driven by a boundless passion for living. I wanted to go out every single day, and I always had to carry my fuel with me—the bottle of alcohol never left my hand. I couldn’t step outside without it, even though it exacerbated my schizophrenic tendencies. I would leave early in the morning and return late at night, immersed in days filled with reckless adventures, flirting with women, intense sexual desire, hysteria, and dancing in the streets. I felt absolute bliss—my mind completely detached and unobservant, yet I savored every moment, doing things I would be ashamed to do today.
Those periods were volatile and dangerous, distressing to those around me, and financially draining, as I required a lot of money daily. Not a day passed without an overwhelming urge to go out and drink, until I would inevitably cause a scene that alerted others to my psychological state, ultimately leading to my admission to a psychiatric hospital. During those times, I would stop taking my psychiatric medications, suffering from either initial withdrawal symptoms or a relapse into acute schizophrenia.
Despite the severity of those experiences, their grave risk to my personal safety and the safety of others, and the chaos I left in my wake, I cannot deny that I long for them with a gentle ache in my heart and soul. I adore the madness and reclaiming my true self away from psychiatric medications. I truly loved many aspects of that spirit within me.
Nearly two years have passed since I last entered that state. That was when I was last discharged from the psychiatric hospital, leaving traumatized. They gave me terrible medications that caused weight gain and stripped away vital parts of my personality. A few weeks after my release, I instinctively stopped taking most of the ruinous drugs they had prescribed and managed my care using older treatments I was familiar with and had tried before. My condition has stabilized since then; I started a diet, lost all the excess weight, and continue to shed it.
Now, I indulge in weekly moments of safe pleasure. Every week, I spend a few lively, drunken nights enjoying myself in a controlled, safe environment. There is nothing unsafe about my drinking anymore; I enjoy my time while staying calm and grounded. I no longer go out drinking in the streets and alleys. Instead, I settle for drinking at home in a vibrant atmosphere. I can no longer find suitable places to go out—everything is locked down and restricted because of the war—yet I still miss that wild, uninhibited intoxication.
In truth, I am anxious and afraid of stopping my medication again. It isn’t easy. I don’t actually take large doses; I take them only before bed just to get a good night’s sleep, nothing more. I cannot function without sleep, I can’t face my day, I might hear voices, normal auditory inputs might distort and blend together, I lose my stability, and I become irritable. Yet, even in small bedtime doses, they help me remain stable and functional every day. If I stop, I might lose this stability. I don’t have enough money or the right circumstances for total freedom, and I now have a home and a family who need me to stay well. Naturally, I fear for them more than I fear for myself, and I don’t want to unconsciously inflict any harm or drag them into a living hell.
In the past, I lived alone most of the time because my former family was fractured, and no one was putting pressure on me to stay grounded. Because of that, I rarely hesitated to stop taking my medications and live out my chaotic phases—phases that often met traumatic ends. Should I try it again? I feel a deep, genuine nostalgia. There is a tender rhythm in my heart and soul calling for it! There is something fundamentally wrong with these damn medications; natural feelings of happiness, joy, love, and freedom seem lost while on them. Despite the brutality of quitting, there is an indisputably magnificent feeling that comes with breaking free.
