The Self-Harmed

~Crazy after all~

I was sandwitched between both of my parents in Dr. Morren's office. I was still a little sleepy from the sedative that I received. Did my parents notice? Was Dr. Morren going to tell them? Should I tell them?

"I'm Dr. Jones." A man said coming to take Dr. Morren's seat. "I met with your parents already Charlie."

I nodded.

So did they know then? What was happening?

"Based on what your parents have told me, and on your test results, I think I can diagnose you. It's called Schizoaffective disorder, and it's the depressive type."

"Excuse me?" Mom asked.

"What does that mean?" Dad asked, putting a hand on mine.

"It means I'm crazy."

"No." Mom shook her head, at me.

"It's a mental disorder characterized by disordered thought process called psychosis and abnormal emotions called mood disorder." Dr. Jones folded his hands on the desk. "Common symptoms of psychosis include auditory hallucinations, paranoid delusions, and disorganized speech and thinking." 

 "What can we do?" Dad asked.

"Some recreational and prescription drugs may cause or worsen symptoms." Dr. Jones said.

"I'm not taking pills." I shook my head. "I have to learn to deal with this on my own. I can't depend on pills."

"The average life expectancy of people with the disorder is shorter than those without it, due to an increased suicide rate." Dr. Jones said.

Mom looked at me, "Is there anything we can do at all?"

"The mainstay of current treatment is antipsychotic medication combined with mood stabilizer medication or antidepressant medication, or both. There is growing concern by some researchers that antidepressants may increase psychosis, mania, and long-term mood episode cycling in the disorder. When there is risk to self or others, usually early in treatment, brief hospitalization may be necessary." Dr. Jones said.

I got up, and headed to the door.

"Charlie-"

"I can't hear anymore." I cut Dad off.

I went to my room, and that's where I stayed for the next two weeks, taking my classes, meals, weight, and Doctor visits. No more group, No more friends, no more normal. Who would want to talk to someone as crazy as I am anyways? I didn't even like half of my friends. And this new diagnosis just went to prove how crazy I am and how were I am is right were I needed to be.

I knew this new diagnosis was hard for my parents, but that's why I was here in the first place. To get better. To cope with life. Not to make friends.