The Victim - Story Of A Kid Dealing With Mental Illness

Creativity is just as important as logic
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tinted wet glass

"Pitter-patter" went the raindrops. Maria was peering through the tinted glass window; her eyes were droopy from lack of sleep. Her hair was unhealthy, tangled, and frizzy due to her not being able to concentrate fully on herself because of her condition. Oh, how she missed nature and felt like Rapunzel, who was a prisoner in the confinement of the Castle, for her prison was the hospital. Depression, distress, anxiety, and fear were slowly killing her.

What had happened to the once jovial, elated, hale and hearty and brave Maria we once knew? Well, I'll tell you. She had been stressed out about so many things, her mother had just lost her job; in her final year, getting so much school work done at a time and meeting deadlines so that she could be eligible to graduate, left her frustrated; her father had just gone to war, regardless of how his family had felt about it.

These events caused her to have schizophrenia, which she had been diagnosed with, right out of college. Furthermore, according to the doctor, schizophrenia was due to a chemical imbalance of the brain from stress. She experienced the symptoms which included lack of sleep and not getting adequate vitamins and minerals because of her poor diet from eating less. At first, they had thought that she was schizophrenic due to taking drugs and not because of a lack of food because her body was quite plump. But after taking a drug test they knew that she was not a drug addict.

When Maria tried to speak, she noticed that her throat was dry, for her body was dehydrated from lack of water. This was part of the stress.

Before she was admitted to the hospital, she was violent in nature. She was believed to be holding a knife and swore that she was sent by an angel from up high to rid the world of sinners. She remembered when it had all started. the voice in her head made her believe that judgment had come and she was going to hell while listing to her all the little sins she had committed during her lifetime.

It threatened to kick, stone, and torture her. Furthermore, it said she was turning into a demon and had used her to mouth the word "Satan". She believed the voice that said she was turning into a demon because her eyes suddenly became bloodshot red and tears couldn't come out of her eyes no matter how hard she squeezed them. She also believed that the nurses and the doctors who came to her aid were demons as well. She later learned that her bloodshot eyes and lack of tears were due to her blood level chemicals being low from her lack of food intake because of stress.

The Pastor she knew from college that came to see her, was wearing a silver watch on his wrist. Maria feared the watch because she believed from the tales she had heard that silver can destroy evil. Maria felt she was evil now like she had turned into some kind of demon. She also got violent. "What do you see when you see me?" she asked or inquired of the pastor, to confirm if she was truly turning into a demon or if she was one.

Maria was treated like an animal. When the doctors and nurses came to her aid, she struggled violently and screamed at the top of her lungs, not only because she was scared of what they were going to do to her, but because she believed them to be demons. They ended up overpowering her. They jammed her with a syringe through the neck, to stop her from struggling. She passed out.

She woke up to find out that she was lying in the hospital bed, with both hands tied down. She passed out again. With heavy eyes and a feeling of lightheadedness, she was on a mattress this time, with her food put on the floor of her confined room, right in front of her.

She had not eaten well the first few days of being in the hospital because she thought everyone in the hospital vicinity was a demon and the hospital was hell and that somehow they had poisoned the food. At one point, she had also tried to escape from her ward, but it was to no avail, it was futile because she was caught, pushed in, and locked up.

She had cried "God!" when the doctors and nurses came to stabilize her with a syringe, that is what she felt had given her hope that she would be cured and that her real self was still in there somewhere.

She had met people with all sorts or kinds of disabilities or conditions at the hospital.

A woman who looked to be in her early to mid-thirties had been physically abused by her husband, whose face now looked unrecognizable to those she knew.

Newborn Siamese twins who were joined by the head, wherein in this case, one survived the surgery and the other did not.

A man who looked to be in his late forties to early fifties had been injured in a car accident where a bus ran over the front and midsection of his mini SUV. He had lost a hand and both legs, his face was also unrecognizable.

In the Psych ward, she had met people with all sorts of mental illnesses. Personality Disorder, Bipolarity, Hallucinations, Apathy, Delusions, Alogia, and some who were just downright Psychotic, Psychopathic, and Sociopathic.

Unlike her violent self, Maria was calmer now, soberer, but there were still a lot of voices in her head. She had taken drugs, they calmed her, but not the voices. The voices were louder than ever inside her head, it was as if the calmer she tried to behave, the louder they became. "The voices are coming. the voices are coming," Maria whispered to herself as she covered both ears with her hands.

She could tell they were coming by the sound of a slight ring in her ear. "You are worthless, useless, an idiot, loser, ugly, loose weight, kill yourself! The world would be a much better place without you!" The voice had gone from making her attack people, to making her attack herself. "Do not fear for I am with you," the other voice said. "Perfect love casts out all fear," he continued. "You have angels surrounding you, so you are protected." "And you're still afraid?" The first voice said taunting her.

Since she was religious, her schizophrenic voices sounded like a dynamic between God and the Devil. The Devil had used all her fears to attack her and had tricked her into believing that God didn't love her or that she wasn't a good Christian. She panicked. If she wasn't a good Christian it meant that she didn't think God loved her and if she didn't think God loved her, she would remain fearful and in the Devil's grasp. She had found it hard to focus on God's voice because the devil's voice was overpowering her mind.

Her thoughts had been all over the place due to the taunting. Every time a negative thought crossed her mind, the devil would condemn her. Apart from the God and Satan dynamic, she also heard the voices of her two guardian angels, one having a male voice and the other a female one. The female voice told her that she was her best friend and had tried to console her. The devil had controlled this angel to call her a loser, useless and worthless, every time she had negative thoughts.

At one point in time a particular negative thought crossed her mind, which made the devil angry; "Why are you not taking control of the situation?" the devil had asked the angel. "I hate losers!" After that took place, Maria could hear shrill screams. The angel had lost one eye and it was the devil's doing. "You were my best friend and you didn't help me, you are not a good Christian and you know it," the angel said. "My blood is on your hands," she continued. "Nobody likes you," she had said with resentment. "Why are you helping her?" said the angel with the male voice. "How old are you?" - This time it was directed at Maria. "Can't you control your thoughts?" he was furious. Maria was filled with guilt as more negative thoughts evaded her mind.

"Stop it! Stop! He'll kill me! no! no!" The angel pleaded. Maria was fearful, then more negative thoughts plagued her mind. She couldn't help it. "Loser," Maria heard the devil whisper in her ear. "You are a real loser now!" Then she heard the angel with the female voice pleading, "Please! Please!" It was on her behalf, for the devil was coming to beat her up. It ended with the devil ripping off the male angel's ear and the female angel losing her fingers. "You'll get what you deserve," said the female angel to Maria.

Maria couldn't stop as more bad thoughts flooded her mind. The devil was coming to beat her up...and pluck one of her eyes out. This torture was to entail breaking her bones and draining every last drop of blood from her body. Again, he did not succeed because of the plea of the angels who after the debacle, lost both their lives. The devil cackled.

The laughter sounded so cruel and real. "You're next," he said. Suddenly, an eye ached her, as if to be pulled out of her sockets, that felt real as well. But that was as far as the pain went. That was all Maria remembered, the devil hadn't come. She tried to console herself that it was imaginary, for she was still safe in the confinement of the hospital.

"Are you okay?" her nurse inquired with concern. It was almost morning, so Maria must have been peering through the window during the remainder of the night. "No," Maria shook her head slowly. "It frightens me." Maria's wide eyes got even wider and her expression was filled with gloom. "The negative voice," the nurse said knowingly. Maria managed a nod. "Oh, dear." The nurse gave her some meds and went on to inject her with a large syringe.

"Awww," Maria wailed as she watched the crimson-colored blood drip down her elbow. The nurse left without giving her a bandage for her wound. Maria lay helplessly on her bed, still watching the blood drip down, this time on her bedsheets. "I will die," she whispered to herself. "I want to die."

Months had passed and Maria didn't seem to be recovering as well as and as fast as she had hoped. She also didn't recover as she had expected to. The side effects of the drugs had kicked in, she had pale lips, slurred speech, dizziness, nausea, and headache.

The voices succeeded in making her attack herself as well. They even told her to pull her hairs, nails, and teeth out, and that demons and witches were coming to rip her heart out and burn her alive. Out of fear, she had already pulled some hairs out, but that is as far as she could go, for there were three nurses and a doctor who had helped to stop her. Lord knows what would have happened if they weren't there.

Maria looked at the plate of mushy beans, soggy greens, a stale slice of bread, and the bowl of lentil soup in front of her. "Hospital food," she sighed. She missed the smell of her mom's home-cooked meals. "Will I ever leave this place?" she asked herself, with a look of defeat on her face.

She had heard word that her mother had not taken her daughter's mental illness and her husband going off to war too well. Her mother had no longer attended social gatherings because she was a strong woman, for she didn't want anyone else to get involved. Her mother had also started drinking and was into drugs. No wonder her poor mother had not come to see her.

She dropped the fork and knife she was holding, by the side of her plate. She didn't feel hungry; she had lost her appetite. The voices made her feel weak and drowsy, she just stared at the food intensely, her eyes were closing and her head tilted forward, slowly towards the food, and slowly, slowly... "Do you believe in angels and demons?" a patient from the psych ward asked as he sat down beside her. Maria was startled. "You scared me," she said catching her breath.

"I know. You almost fell face flat into your food there. Mind if I take it, you didn't want..." He was speaking very fast, almost stuttering. "Yes!" she squirmed. "They talk to me." "They who?" he inquired. "God and the devil!" Maria exclaimed. "Cool." "No, not cool, I almost...killed people," she whimpered. "Wow, t-t-tell me more!" he said as he stuttered with excitement. "I'd rather not tell anyone. Can we change the subject?" "Sure," he answered. "So what are you here for?" Martha inquired.

"Bipolar," he said gleefully. Maria gave him the side-eye. "You seem to be okay with it." "Yeah, I've learned how to live with it, although other times it makes me want to rip someone's throat out." "Yikes," Maria said inwardly. "No kidding," she said scooting a bit farther from him. "Did the doctors say..." "They're still trying to cure me, not sure what the verdict will be though," he said. "Oh, I see. I'm schizophrenic," she said sadly. He gave her shoulder a tight squeeze. "You'll get through it, I'm sure of it," he whispered inside her ear.

Weeks had passed and there was finally some improvement with the voices. She had finally learned to concentrate on the positive voice, which had helped drown the negative one. There was a downside though, she had gained a lot of weight, which was probably due to the meds. She also noticed that though the world around her was the same, there was something strange or different about her. "We'll miss you," a nurse said. "Take care," another said. All she could muster was a "Sure."

That was weird, the old Maria would have at least said a "Thank you." She felt like a zombie, she had no emotions, while feeling moody at the same time. The moodiness was one of having the blues or gloominess, due to the fact that, in almost one year of being in the hospital, her mother didn't even visit her once. The moodiness also stemmed from the loneliness she felt in this "cruel, harsh world," as she viewed it.

"Stop! Stop!" Maria was practically yelling. There were some empty wine bottles on the table, as well as a couple of drugs. "The neighbors," her mom drawled. She was drunk. Maria could smell her breath, and it reeked of alcohol. "Mom," Maria called. "Why?" "I can't take it, I just ca..." Maria's mom sounded sober so they both assumed that the alcohol had worn off. Maria put her arms around her mother. "Mom, I'm here! Can't you see me? I'm here! I'm alive! Alive!" Maria exclaimed as she pulled a couple of tissues from the tissue box, and began to wipe the tears off of her mother's eyes. "I can see that," her mother managed. "But" "He'll do okay I hope," said Maria. "It's been almost a year." "I know I know," Maria said reassuringly.  

It had been a while since her father came back from war, they had heard no news, read no letters, for they had stopped coming. Suddenly they heard a knock on the door. "The men are back, the war is over, we lost!" said a smallish looking man. Maria and her mother did not hesitate as they ran outside and pushed through the bunch of men, wounded, dead, or otherwise.

Soldiers had been carrying stretchers of which other wounded and deceased soldiers lay. "Dad!" Maria cried out. "Stefan!" her mom cried out. But there was no sign of him. After a long search of finding nothing, Maria's mom carried one of the soldier's guns without hesitation and shot it in the air. She then pointed it to one of the soldiers who raised both hands as if to surrender. "Where's my husband?!" she bellowed. "Where is he?" All of a sudden, some police surrounded her, took the gun from her, and held her hands to the back while she struggled.

"Somebody get this crazy woman out of here," one of the townsmen ordered. There was disarray, some women who had come to cheer their husbands on for their effort and had come to see if their husbands had made it alive, began to hide their children. Some of the soldiers who were heading back home, came back to aid the policemen. "Thanks, but no thanks. We've got everything under control," one policeman said to the soldiers.

The soldiers hesitated. "I said retreat you scumbags," an older, grouchier policeman who was believed to be a veteran said. They seemed to take that order well as they began walking away. After a few moments of interrogation, they released the woman.

Maria felt strange, she noticed that she wasn't herself after she had left the hospital. She felt nothing when her mother drank herself to oblivion and drugged herself to near death. She felt nothing when her father died and when her mother had literally turned into a madwoman before her very eyes. Was it the meds? Probably. Was she a bad person? No! it wasn't her fault.

Her mother had been to the psych ward for being a complete psychopath, which was actually due to her drug dosage as well as the news of her husband's death. She had also gone to rehab to handle her addiction. She did recover pretty quickly though. They seemed to be handling his death pretty well.

Both mother and daughter were staying in today. "Promise you'll lay off the alcohol and drugs?" Maria asked. "Promise," her mother replied. Maria's body felt numb, palms sweating, she also felt a bit drowsy, before she knew it, she fell asleep. "Maria wake up, wake up, Is she dead? Oh my gosh, oh my gosh." In panic and out of fear Maria's mom began to put a couple of drugs into her system.

Then she slowly took a sip of alcohol from a little wine glass and began gulping it, took another, and then another, about three bottles of alcohol. She was about to drug herself some more when her daughter woke up. "Mom, drop it! Now!" Maria shouted. Her mom was startled. "I...thought you were dead," Maria's mom said with a whimper. Maria walked up to her mother. "What did you do?" she asked loudly. "What did you do?" she asked again, only louder. "I thought I was going to lose you," Maria's mother's voice trailed off.

At this point in time, Maria noticed that she was not herself and her mom noticed it too because she was acting so guilty. Her mother's breath reeked of alcohol. "You got drunk again, didn't you?" her voice was filled with rage. "Yes," her mother managed. "Why?But why? Maria inquired. Then she went back to her angry tone. "After everything I've lost, you want me to lose you too, how could you be so selfish? how could" Maria looked into her mother's eyes, her mother noticed that her eyes were cold, it looked as though she had no soul. Maria's mother shuddered. "Why is it so dark all of a sudden?"

Screams, more screams.

Seconds later, there was shattered glass all over the floor...and blood, lots of it, dripping from Maria's mother's head down to her clothes. Maria couldn't believe her eyes as she looked down at her palms. "What have I done?" "How could I do that?" "Is this real?" "How can I live with myself?" were the questions plaguing her mind. She wasn't well, she hadn't been cured of this disease called schizophrenia.

It was her curse and one she had to pay for dearly. She couldn't sob, no she couldn't because she wasn't herself. The medicine, the effect of the medicine had led to bloodshed. She obviously didn't deserve to live. She was beginning to feel stressed out after what she had done. "The voices are coming back, no! no!" She had not really felt much guilt or remorse before, but when the voices came back, they taunted her saying "Murderer, Murderer, you deserve death!"

Maria ran to the bathroom. "I deserve to be punished," she said. "I will die the way my mother died." She had bashed her mother's head with a wine bottle, and now she was about to bash her head on the bathroom mirror when the cops came.

Maria had been sentenced to life in prison for third-degree murder. She finally had her emotions back and she had to learn to live with what she had done and the tormenting voices. She pleaded with the jury to allow her to serve her country and be useful to society, by being in the military, with which she could come back and serve time in prison.

She wanted to join the military to redeem herself due to her mother's death, for her blood was on her hands, and to avenge her father's death. She cut her hair short to a bob, removed all her jewelry, and wiped off her makeup, put war paint on her face, wore combat boots and her soldier uniform. She also used her pocket knife to write down the words "Mom" on her arm in remembrance of her mother's death. With her emotions back, she wailed and whimpered as a gush of blood flowed down her arm.

Unfortunately, the trauma of the war increased the voices in her head. The voice that was believed to be God's voice, revealed itself as her voice that had gone insane. Her voice and the devil's voice which sounded distorted and deep began to cackle callously. She couldn't handle it any longer. She lost focus and became a target of the enemy. She has shot two bullets in the heart, one in her stomach and two in the left side of her brain. She couldn't recover. Her body just lay there on the ground as the other soldiers were celebrating a victory, a victory they had not had in a long time.

Poor, poor, girl. She only wanted to do right. But she had been a victim, a victim of that unforgiving disease called schizophrenia. 

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