THE WAY IT IS – Age Thirty Four

I was reasonably OK for about ten years. But then my symptoms returned — I had another
relapse! First I lost my job and then my apartment. I cut off contact with everybody and in
my wild state it was not long before the police caught me shoplifting and creating a
disturbance in a store. Happily the police recognized me as someone who was sick. Instead
of putting me in jail they took me to the Schedule 1 hospital for treatment.
Over the next couple of years I was in and out of hospital, just like Dad, staying for weeks or
months at a time. When I was in hospital and being treated, my symptoms gradually came
under control; when I felt better they let me go. I was usually able to find another place to
live but because I didn’t have much money it was usually pretty tacky and in a tough part of
town where not feeling safe made me anxious. Without anybody in the community to help
me on a regular basis it was hard to cope with the stresses of everyday living and my illness
returned — always too fast.
After returning to my home town a couple of times, when I got out of the psychiatric
hospital I decided to stay in the city near the hospital to have easier access to the follow-up
services they provide. Once in a while I went to the city’s drop in centre but it was hard to
get to know anybody; they were always coming and going and I didn’t make any friends.
When my symptoms got really bad I would go to the hospital’s emergency room where they
knew me. They would arrange for my re-admission to hospital and we would start all over
again.
After a few times in and out, however, I recovered again. My symptoms disappeared and
when I began to feel much better I decided to leave the city and get an apartment back in my
hometown to be closer to my family and where I knew more people.