What if… I’m not the lucky one?

I read a blog post today, about a young lady diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder. It was on Rethink.org website. I won’t be giving a link here, I’m a bit paranoid that the page may be removed on a later date and my link will not work, so I’d rather cope without one.

Schizoaffective disorder is a mix of schizophrenia and bipolar and the lady has to take medication for it. She tried to get off it once and it didn’t work for her. She said she initially had a feeling that things aren’t real. And I think this is how I feel a lot lately. But then things are not like they used to be and not how I expected them at all.

I am staying in a hostel merely 7km away from my family home, my brother is drinking and lost all touch with reality, mum is in a private care home and I moved her there and her favourite bank employee is in prison. Oh, and I was sacked from my job. And I lost my ID card so I can’t go back home. This is all absolutely bizarre so it feels unreal.

Having a rest is not going to help me much, I will still wake up in the hostel and without the ID.

I remember now how I came to conclusion that the policeman who investigates fraud told me that I was first to report it and that many more people were victims because he wanted us to feel a bit better. I really thought that was consulted with police psychologist as a part of victim support. But then, would you call that delusion? Or maybe mere misinterpretation due to being autistic and not understanding police procedures?

That’s what is the most difficult for me, after I realised I’m autistic: earlier on if I couldn’t understand a situation I assumed people are weird and I kept away from them. It was working for me rather well. And yet, shortly after my diagnosis I came up with an idea that by doing that I’m missing out on something so possibly I should make an effort to understand what is going on when things are unclear.

So far nothing good came out of that. Maybe it would for others, but not for me. But it feels to me like that process cannot easily be stopped: my mind is on a lookout to find a meaning everywhere. I don’t know how to switch it off.

What if I eventually get another episode, merely from looking for meaning where there isn’t any? I thought I’m the lucky one, after two episodes I’m not on permanent meds but if I get a third one doctors will certainly want to keep me on something, no matter the side effects. So possibly I’m not the lucky one, possibly I’m just myself. And having a rest is not going to help here because I’ll wake up in the hostel anyway.

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