Stigma and Thoughts

When you are out and about, walking amongst people, do you reflect on who they are? What their stories are? Sometimes you can see tired eyes or gloomy looks, the way they dress can also be an indicator as to how they're doing. But most of the time you have no idea who they are or what they struggle with.

Some people have called me handsome, I wear somewhat decent clothes, and I take regular showers. I look pretty healthy. So it might surprise people that I have schizophrenia. It's something I've struggled with for years now. My father had it too, so it is genetic. But it doesn't show, even if you have a conversation with me, it likely wouldn't leave you with that information, unless I told you.

I keep most of my delusions and thoughts private and for my counsellors and my psychiatrist. My mind is broken, simply put. I have plenty of tough thoughts every day. Such as thinking that my friend's child might die, or that my girlfriend is going to get killed. I worry a lot about people around me and I worry about myself. At the same time, I can suspect them of conspiring against me. I get stressed when I'm about to travel, thinking that the train I'm on is going to crash or things like that. It hasn't happened so far.

My delusions are varied. Sometimes I believe someone is spying on me and knows everything about me and what I think. Other times I believe I've been selected to write about a coming threat to humanity. And it is strange, because I know myself that these delusions are strange, yet I believe in them somewhere deep in my soul. I believe something is going on.

Yet I do not mention all this when I am out with friends or just having a conversation. No one is the wiser.

If I walked around with a stamp on my forehead that said "Schizophrenic" I do wonder if people would behave differently. Sure, if you walk around with a stamp on your head, people probably will, but you get what I mean. Perhaps they would be more careful and think I'm some porcelain creature that needed constant supervision and kind smiles. I don't need any of that, of course. But it's often the way society reacts to people who are damaged in some way.

In a way I'm glad people can't spot my damage, the stigma need not apply to me. I can keep up the healthy charade. Keep walking the streets with the weight of the world on my shoulders. No one is the wiser. Except now... for you... of course...