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psychreviews2 · 8 months ago

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Case Studies: Dora – Sigmund Freud Pt. 1

The Bauer's and the Zellenka's

In Fragments of an Analysis of a Case of Hysteria (1905), Freud first published a case study on Ida Bauer, under the pseudonym "Dora", a daughter of parents in a loveless marriage. Her father, a merchant, and mother, immigrated from Bohemia to Vienna. In Freud's case study, the 18 year old subject was stuck in what could be called an imbroglio, with a couple the family befriended, under the pseudonym "the K's": Hans and Peppina Zellenka, also in a loveless marriage. Dora's mother was described by Freud as having a "‘housewife’s psychosis’. She had no understanding of her children’s more active interests, and was occupied all day long in cleaning the house with its furniture and utensils and in keeping them clean - to such an extent as to make it almost impossible to use or enjoy them. This condition, traces of which are to be found often enough in normal housewives, inevitably reminds one of forms of obsessional washing and other kinds of obsessional cleanliness." Fights between the family led to Dora supporting her father and her brother supporting their mother. The typical Oedipus Complex pattern.

Dora was forced to enter analysis by her father, after failed hydro and electro treatments with physicians. With nervous obsessive thoughts, difficulties breathing, a shuffled step, and a persistent nervous cough, Freud put her under the label of hysteria. Dora at the time would introduce to Freud what he termed as transference: See below. Psychologists today are readily aware of how their patients can project emotions they have for other significant people in their lives, onto the them. There is often a difficulty in finding the concealed truth behind the patient's resistance and transference, or even more difficult to be aware of one's own countertransference response as an analyst. Reacting with contempt towards the patient naturally leads to them becoming more hostile and quitting early, but in the early days of psychoanalysis it was something new to investigate. Freud delved deeper into Dora's resistance and eventually found that transferences could be useful for him, and future therapists. Especially to harvest information to make the client aware of their unconscious material, and defenses.

Does Psychoanalysis work?

Freud's famous and controversial case studies are considered by some critics a fiction, and even to Freud himself to a smaller extent, simply incomplete. Psychoanalysis has the tendency to over-analyze or under-analyze manifesting as a lack of resonance with the patient. On the other hand, what these case studies do well, is to show the reader the different theories, and how they might apply. The problem with Freud, and all psychology, and even all science, is understanding the correct context and applying the right interpretation at the right time. As science moves on, and more data is collected, the theories are forced to become more refined. Though, the danger of throwing out a particular psychologist's entire bibliography, because it's been surpassed, means throwing out all the good insight already found.

This is the particular the problem with Freud's work. He conflates experiences together from different clients into theories and then tries to interpret case studies in a way that can be too general, and invites outright dismissal. His insights hit the mark some of the time, and at other times individuals are put into boxes that don't give the full picture, or are misleading. Also having notes on clients written farther and father away from the session in question can lead to errors by the analyst. Freud did this to avoid distracting the client, but this could lead to forgetfulness and a conflation of material from different patients. Ultimately, interpretations have to predict behaviour and allow others to test their validity to gain wider acceptance. Even more difficult with Freud's work is that some situations are untestable. For example, can we really test what was running through the mind of a patient at a particular time in the past? Or, how do you test dreams? In those cases, we are only left with theories to rally around. This is even more the case as later critics and authors re-read his case studies with more facts than Freud had, and also with new interpretations based on data from later patients in similar circumstances.

Deliberate falsification and Screen Memories

The opposite extreme of dumping psychoanalysis is believing patients who have resistances and needs for impression management to avoid stigma and ostracism. They will resist correct interpretations because they hit the mark and are threatening. In many cases the reader will never really know which interpretation is more correct, the therapist's, or the client's interpretations. For example, Freud talks about forgotten knowledge of the client. "[Patients] can, give the physician plenty of coherent information about this or that period of their lives; but it is sure to be followed by another period as to which their communications run dry, leaving gaps unfilled, and riddles unanswered; and then again will come yet another period which will remain totally obscure and unilluminated by even a single piece of serviceable information." Accounts from patients can seem realistic, but still untrue.

For Freud this comes from clients being "consciously or unconsciously disingenuous." Recollections in the first stage of repression are full of doubts trying to disguise the memory. The second stage of repression involves actual forgetting, or a falsification of memory. Here is where screen memories can fill in the blanks. These are narratives from a later period in adolescence, which can include justifications, or disguises caused by displacement and condensation, that are believed by the subject to be situations that actually occurred. [See: Dreams - Sigmund Freud: https://rumble.com/v1gtf6j-dreams-sigmund-freud.html]

Freud favours the recollections that are being attacked by doubt over the later censored ones that are comfortable for the client. This is also keeping in mind there is another goal of the analyst: "Whereas the practical aim of the treatment is to remove all possible symptoms and to replace them by conscious thoughts, we may regard it as a second and theoretical aim to repair all the damages to the patient’s memory."

Psychoanalysis when all else fails

In Freud's narrative, Dora was emotionally attached to her father, especially during his illnesses. Her mother's constant attention to domestic affairs, plus her father's illnesses led to their estrangement. As Dora continued being dissatisfied with her family life, she left a suicide letter in a desk for her parents to find.

For many people who run away from friendships and romantic relationships it's often because of the unexpected and unwanted entanglements and expectations. Dora's family connected with the K's, and like in many situations, friends start helping each other. Over time, the family roles can get interchanged. For example, Freud says of Dora that she "had taken the greatest care of the K.’s two little children, and been almost a mother to them." Dora had private conversations and influences from governesses, Frau K., Herr K., on top of her own family's influence. As the different values are imitated, an ambivalence is already starting. When friends exchange help they naturally think of utility and how these friends can help in other ways. As emotional claims are made unconsciously, some of those claims conflict with the claims of others. This is especially true when values are different and are violated.

Dora's example was when she was 14, (possibly 13 in reality) she was approached by Herr K., alone in his workplace, and forced into an embrace and a kiss. She ran away in disgust. Later on she was approached again for a kiss by Herr K., at a lake. She rejected him and complained to her father. Herr K. said that she was reading "Mantegazza’s Physiology of Love and books of that sort in their house on the lake. It was most likely, he had added, that 'she had been over-excited by such reading and had merely ‘fancied’ the whole scene she had described.'" When denials like this happen, the result is neurosis for the victim when they can't find anyone to believe them.

"Dora"

Dora's father brought her to Freud, a man who helped him with his syphilis in prior appointments, to sort her out. "‘I have no doubt’, [he said], ‘that this incident is responsible for Dora’s depression and irritability and suicidal ideas. She keeps pressing me to break off relations with Herr K. and more particularly with Frau K., whom she used to positively worship formerly. But that I cannot do. For, to begin with, I myself believe that Dora’s tale of the man’s immoral suggestions is a phantasy that has forced its way into her mind; and besides, I am bound to Frau K. by ties of honourable friendship and I do not wish to cause her pain. The poor woman is most unhappy with her husband, of whom, by the way, I have no very high opinion. She herself has suffered a great deal with her nerves, and I am her only support. With my state of health I need scarcely assure you that there is nothing wrong in our relations. We are just two poor wretches who give one another what comfort we can by an exchange of friendly sympathy. You know already that I get nothing out of my own wife. But Dora, who inherits my obstinacy, cannot be moved from her hatred of the K.’s. She had her last attack after a conversation in which she had again pressed me to break with them. Please try and bring her to reason.’"

During their sessions Freud found that, "Dora’s criticisms of her father were the most frequent: he was insincere, he had a strain of falseness in his character, he only thought of his own enjoyment, and he had a gift for seeing things in the light which suited him best."

Freud concurred: "I could not in general dispute Dora’s characterization of her father; and there was one particular respect in which it was easy to see that her reproaches were justified. When she was feeling embittered she used to be overcome by the idea that she had been handed over to Herr K. as the price of his tolerating the relations between her father and his wife; and her rage at her father’s making such a use of her was visible behind her affection for him."

These were the early days in psychoanalysis, and Freud was bound to make some big mistakes, including not seeing his own sexism. The year was 1900 and his attitude towards women was irritating Dora. He said that "the two men (Dora's father and Herr K.) had of course never made a formal agreement in which she was treated as an object for barter; her father in particular would have been horrified at any such suggestion. But he was one of those men who know how to evade a dilemma by falsifying their judgement upon one of the conflicting alternatives. If it had been pointed out to him that there might be danger for a growing girl in the constant and unsupervised companionship of a man who had no satisfaction from his own wife, he would have been certain to answer that he could rely upon his daughter, that a man like K. could never be dangerous to her, and that his friend was himself incapable of such intentions, or that Dora was still a child and was treated as a child by K." Yet Freud is conscious enough to see. "But as a matter of fact things were in a position in which each of the two men avoided drawing any conclusions from the other’s behaviour which would have been awkward for his own plans."

That pattern, as can be seen in the Irma injection dream in The Interpretation of Dreams, shows a willingness for men to collude together, and ignore each other's actions, while also having an opposite attitude of increased scanning of women and their foibles. Freud emphasizes, in the illicit kisses, how this could arouse sexual feelings in the girl, and be hysterical if rejected. His point was that she should have been more flattered at these attentions. "The behaviour of this child of fourteen was already entirely and completely hysterical. I should without question consider a person hysterical in whom an occasion for sexual excitement elicited feelings that were preponderantly or exclusively unpleasurable; and I should do so whether or not the person were capable of producing somatic symptoms." Naturally an adolescent would, even in 1900, find this invalidating.

Transference and counter-transference

Freud admitted that he "did not succeed in mastering the transference in good time." This was his reason for the failure of the treatment. He recounts "at the beginning it was clear that I was replacing her father in her imagination, which was not unlikely, in view of the difference between our ages. She was constantly comparing me with him consciously, and kept anxiously trying to make sure whether I was being quite straightforward with her, for her father ‘always preferred secrecy and roundabout ways.' But when the first dream came, in which she gave herself the warning that she had better leave my treatment just as she had formerly left Herr K.’s house, I ought to have listened to the warning myself. ‘Now,’ I ought to have said to her, ‘it is from Herr K. that you have made a transference on to me. Have you noticed anything that leads you to suspect me of evil intentions similar to Herr K.’s? Or have you been struck by anything about me or got to know anything about me which has caught your fancy, as happened previously with Herr K.’ Her attention would then have been turned to some detail in our relations, or in my person or circumstances, behind which there lay concealed something analogous but immeasurably more important concerning Herr K. And when this transference had been cleared up, the analysis would have obtained access to new memories, dealing, probably, with actual events...In this way the transference took me unawares, and, because of the unknown quantity in me which reminded Dora of Herr K., she took her revenge on me as she wanted to take her revenge on him, and deserted me as she believed herself to have been deceived and deserted by him."

Freud also had trouble seeing his own transferences of sexual interest in Dora, calling her "a girl in the bloom of youth, with intelligent and pleasing features," and his being titillated with the sexual conversation similar to the position of Frau K. talking to Dora about sexuality. He also had trouble seeing his low attitude towards her by using the pseudonym Dora, a name given to a nursemaid of his sister.

Freud goes on describing the phenomenon of transference. "They are new editions or facsimiles of the impulses and phantasies which are aroused and made conscious during the progress of the analysis; but they have this peculiarity, which is characteristic for their species, that they replace some earlier person by the person of the physician. Some of these transferences have a content which differs from that of their model in no respect whatever except for the substitution." It becomes difficult to develop rapport if the therapist is dealing with negative transferences, but "psycho-analytic treatment does not create transferences, it merely brings them to light...All the patient’s tendencies, including hostile ones, are aroused; they are then turned to account for the purposes of the analysis by being made conscious, and in this way the transference is constantly being destroyed. Transference, which seems ordained to be the greatest obstacle to psycho-analysis, becomes its most powerful ally, if its presence can be detected each time and explained to the patient." [See: The 'Ratman': https://rumble.com/v1gu9qj-case-studies-the-ratman-freud-and-beyond.html]

The pot calling the kettle black - Projection

In particular Freud was trying to detect a form of projection originating in Dora by her efforts to enable the relationship. One of the clues for Freud is how the person who accuses another person of an indiscretion seems to know every detail about it, and this may in fact tell about similar situations in the accuser, that they also know a lot about, but are repressing. Freud uses the example of her accusations towards her father's infidelity, "there were no gaps in her memory on this point."

Just like the ambivalence that Freud often describes, people have similar goals, like romantic love, and it's easy to point out what others are doing while ignoring that we have the same goals, and similar approaches to them. Our consciousness is like a spotlight and when it's on someone else, it's not on ourselves. Freud says, "a string of reproaches against other people leads one to suspect the existence of a string of self-reproaches with the same content. All that need be done is to turn back each particular reproach on to the speaker himself. There is something undeniably automatic about this method of defending oneself against a self-reproach by making the same reproach against some one else. A model of it is to be found in the 'you too' arguments of children." It's a kind of "I feel better if other people are doing it too." Pride is maintained if everyone else is guilty. Also if two people make the same claim for another individual, based on an interest like love, they usually have reasons that are justifiable to only to themselves.

Behind these reproaches is also another layer of unconscious material. Freud says, "but it soon becomes evident that the patient is using thoughts of this kind, which the analysis cannot attack, for the purpose of cloaking others which are anxious to escape from criticism and from consciousness."

The partially conscious, or unconscious agreements happen when a person's self-interest becomes front and center. Freud used as evidence Dora's past attitude of leaving her father and Frau K. alone, and taking the K.'s children for a walk, since they would have been sent out anyways. The scene at the lake was when she realized that she was being passed off onto Herr K., to make it convenient for her father and Frau K. Being slighted in that way enraged her. Dora described similar behaviour in her governess. "So long as the governess had any influence she used it for stirring up feeling against Frau K. She explained to Dora’s mother that it was incompatible with her dignity to tolerate such an intimacy between her husband and another woman; and she drew Dora’s attention to all the obvious features of their relations. But her efforts were in vain. Dora remained devoted to Frau K. and would hear of nothing that might make her think ill of her relations with her father. On the other hand she very easily fathomed the motives by which her governess was actuated. She might be blind in one direction, but she was sharp-sighted enough in the other. She saw that the governess was in love with her father. When he was there, she seemed to be quite another person: at such times she could be amusing and obliging. While the family were living in the manufacturing town and Frau K. was not on the horizon, her hostility was directed against Dora’s mother, who was then her more immediate rival. Up to this point Dora bore her no ill-will. She did not become angry until she observed that she herself was a subject of complete indifference to the governess, whose pretended affection for her was really meant for her father. While her father was away from the manufacturing town the governess had no time to spare for her, would not go for walks with her, and took no interest in her studies. No sooner had her father returned from B-- than she was once more ready with every sort of service and assistance. Thereupon Dora dropped her."

Freud said, "the poor woman had thrown a most unwelcome light on a part of Dora’s own behaviour. What the governess had from time to time been to Dora, Dora had been to Herr K.’s children. She had been a mother to them, she had taught them, she had gone for walks with them, she had offered them a complete substitute for the slight interest which their own mother showed in them. Herr K. and his wife had often talked of getting a divorce; but it never took place, because Herr K., who was an affectionate father, would not give up either of the two children. A common interest in the children had from the first been a bond between Herr K. and Dora. Her preoccupation with his children was evidently a cloak for something else that Dora was anxious to hide from herself and from other people."

Freud at this point offered the conclusion that she was in love with Herr K. more than she let on. This Dora did not assent to. Yet later on "when the quantity of material that had come up had made it difficult for her to persist in her denial, she admitted that she might have been in love with Herr K. at B--' but declared that since the scene by the lake it had all been over."

Freud then gets caught in a bind. He asks "the question then arises: If Dora loved Herr K., what was the reason for her refusing him in the scene by the lake? Or at any rate, why did her refusal take such a brutal form, as though she were embittered against him? And how could a girl who was in love feel insulted by a proposal which was made in a manner neither tactless nor offensive?"

A Case of Hysteria - Sigmund Freud: https://www.isbns.net/isbn/9780199639861/

Freud, Dora, and Vienna 1900 - Hannah S. Decker: https://www.isbns.net/isbn/9780029072127/

Physiology of Love and Other Writings - Paolo Mantegazza: https://www.isbns.net/isbn/9781442691728/ Flow by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi: https://www.isbns.net/isbn/9780061339202/

Man's Search for Meaning - Viktor Frankl: https://www.isbns.net/isbn/9780671023379/

Ellis, A. W. & Raitmayr, O. & Herbst, C. (2016). The Ks: The Other Couple in the Case of Freud’s “Dora”. Journal of Austrian Studies 48(4), 1-26. University of Nebraska Press. I See Satan Fall Like Lightning - René Girard: https://www.isbns.net/isbn/9781570753190/ René Girard and Creative Mimesis - Thomas Ryba: https://www.isbns.net/isbn/9781498550574/ René Girard and Creative Reconciliation - Thomas Ryba: https://www.isbns.net/isbn/9780739169001/ The Lord of the Rings - J.R.R. Tolkien: https://www.isbns.net/isbn/9780261103207/ A Survey of the Woman Problem - Rosa Mayreder: https://www.isbns.net/isbn/9781330999349/

Psychology: http://psychreviews.org/category/psychology01/

#blackklansman #countertransference #Dora #Envy #oedipus complex #psychoanalysis #psychology #sigmund freud #projection #rene girard #transference

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foxglove-and-fireflies · 4 years ago

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Schizophrenia

Schizophrenia is many things.

To me, it is terrifying, enormous and all consuming.

But Schizophrenia is frustrating most of all.

I was recently diagnosed with Schizophrenia after an 'episode'. It's the second 'episode' I've had, and this one hasn't gone away.

The first time was in December of 2015. Stress in my life had been building for a while, and I felt thrust into a life I wasn't prepared to deal with. I was not mature enough to handle my life, not nearly prepared enough to manage the stress I had.

I was 19. I got married just shy of three months prior. I planned a wedding, moved into a house I never asked for (after spending my wedding weekend repairing it), and I was a full time student. Prior to my wedding I was working part time as well, but I quit after I felt too overwhelmed.

But it was December, and I was out of classes until January. I tried my best to be a 'good wife'. Wake up first, wish him well as he left for work, do laundry, make a lunch for him to take to work the next day, do the shopping, pay the bills, clean up after his aging dog, tidy up, welcome him home, cook dinner, mow the yard...

I did my best. I failed often. Many days I couldn't do everything, and some days I felt powerless to do anything. I went to my mother for advice and asked her "How do you be a good wife? I feel like I'm not enough. Should I get a job?"

My mother advised me that I should make it my job to be a good housewife and take care of all of the things I mentioned before, and that Bret was too good to me. She boasted about how good I had it, how good my husband was, and how I should be grateful for what I had been given. She felt I was ungrateful for my home, that I wasn't taking good enough care of it.

I left feeling more guilty about my failures and less clear about what to do next. I went to her unsure, hoping for encouragement and guidance, but I only felt more guilt.

The stress I felt got worse. The more stressed I felt, the harder it was to accomplish anything. The pile of dirty dishes felt like a monumental task. The laundry felt endless, like I could never catch up. I would lie in bed, so anxious about not having the energy to fix my problems that I stopped sleeping. I stopped eating.

I stayed awake for almost four days, and ate maybe twice in that time. I knew I was depressed, but I didn't know how to reach out for help. It's not like Bret would have reacted badly; he was always supportive of me. All the same, I couldn't.

Thoughts of suicide began to creep in. What if? I wonder what people would think. What nice lies they would say about me at my funeral, and what terrible things they would say in private. How would they judge Bret? He'd be the young widower to the crazy woman.

These thoughts became intrusive. Slowly I realized this voice narrating the thoughts in my head was not mine. I don't know how long this persisted before I realized, but when I did, I was terrified.

I had no idea what to do about it. Should I keep it a secret?

I became distant, in a sense. Like I wasn't really there, like it wasn't really me in my body. I felt very far away, detached from reality. I lay laid on the couch one night, the voice inside my head terrorizing me. Taunting me.

"He knows," she insisted. "He knows I'm in your mind."

The voice echoed inside my head; It came from inside my right eye. I thought about gouging it out to silence her.

Bret must have noticed my distress, as he came to comfort me. He reached out to brush a hair from in front of my face, reaching right towards my right eye.

I slapped his hand. "He knows." the voice echoed again. I was shaken. I wanted to throw up. Bret didn't know what to do to help me either.

I can't remember how many days passed after that, or even if it was the same night. Bret had gone to sleep, and even though I couldn't, I joined him in bed to be a good wife.

"He likes me more." The voice taunted me. "You're weak, you know. He's going to help me."

I got up to wash my face. I stared at the person in the mirror, hoping to see something in my eyes.

"I'm going to steal your body. He's going to help me because he doesn't love you anymore. He likes me better; everyone will. Don't worry, no one will miss you. Everyone will like me better. So why don't you just disappear already?"

It was my voice, but stolen from me. My thoughts no longer mine.

I closed my eyes. "No, I don't want to die. You can't steal my body. I don't want to disappear! You can't take my body from me!"

I searched for a shaving razor. I could dig my eye out. I could get a blade and silence the voice, even if it meant dying. I had to silence it.

Then I realized something that changed my life.

I had a choice. I had one very important choice. Two options only. I could either kill myself right now in this bathroom, or I could get help.

I was so scared. Crying, hyperventilating, unable to see straight, collapsed on the floor, I was so tired. I had to die, or I had to walk through that door and tell Bret what was happening and ask for his help.

The voice was so loud. I struggled to think. I made my choice.

I stood up, I opened the door, and I screamed the only thing I could think of.

"Bret, help me! I don't want to die!"

I had made my choice. It was a bad night. I don't remember much afterwards. He went to the doctor with me, and I got on anti-psychotics. I was embarrassed and ashamed. The doctor gave my prescription to him, and told him to hide my pills. She told him to give me one every night, but not let me know where they were.

I was just a crazy person who wasn't to be trusted with anything. I felt awful.

But things got better after that. I started therapy, and I was scared of my 'diagnosis'. Schizophrenia? Clinically Insane? What would the Psychologist tell me I was?

Depressed. I was depressed, and stressed. I also had an underlying thyroid problem, which can make you hallucinate. I got on antidepressants and adjusted the dose. I worked through some things and built some coping strategies with my therapist.

I was doing so well. I was proud of my progress. I got a job working at a place I loved. I was becoming an independent person with friends and things I did without Bret. I faced fears, I tried new things, I had fun. He was happy for me and I was growing and maturing. Life was so good! Five years passed since I made my choice, and I was so glad I made it.

It only took one day for it to fall apart.

Or... maybe it was longer than a day. I can't remember anymore. Why can't I remember? It was less than two months ago. Or three? I can't remember, and I'm frustrated by it.

I wasn't particularly stressed. I mean, work is hard sometimes, and I'm always worried about something. I've been dealing with anxiety for years, but it was managed by medication, and I no longer needed therapy. I wasn't worried about anything in particular.

Until I was. Suddenly I was afraid. The suddenness of my paranoia also scared me. What was happening? Why did I feel this way? Why did it feel like a leech on my mind? I had no idea, and that only made things worse.

I began to lock all the doors in the house all the time. I would be stricken with the need to check all the rooms in my house because something was telling me to. I was scared of what I would find. I would open the door to the upstairs bedroom and peer into the darkness, waiting for shadows to move. Waiting for the movement to tell me someone was hiding in there. When there was no movement, I flipped on the light.

Nothing there, but my mind was not satisfied. No, I turned the light off again, waiting for them to appear in the dark.

Flick off. Wait. Flick on. Flick off. Wait. Flick on. Flick off. Wait.

Over and over, until I was at least somewhat convinced it was empty. Then I would move to the next room and do it again. I did this for every room in the house, and the closets, too. I knew this was tedious and pointless, but I couldn't help it. I had to.

After I had checked through the whole house, I would hide behind the curtains and watch the world outside. I waited again for movement, for something to validate my fears. I knew there was something out there, and when there was nothing, I grew frustrated.

Sometimes there was something. A figure, taller than my fence, staring at me. I could see it, but distorted. It was there and at the same time, it wasn't. Still, I stared at it, and it stared back at me. All the while I felt a sort of pressure in my mind. This wasn't right and I could feel it. Something was wrong with my brain, but I was helpless to stop it. Frustratingly helpless.

After a while, my husband asked me to come to bed. I tore my eyes away from the figure and went to bed. I locked my dog in the room with us that night.

I woke up for work the next day, and I was paralyzed with fear. I couldn't leave the house, and wasn't really sure why. I called in sick.

So I talk to my doctor. She is very kind and understanding, and prescribes me Seroquel again. An anti-psychotic.

Now, before I go on; I am not a doctor. I have looked this up out of curiosity, but I am not a doctor. This is my understanding of how this works, but have I clarified how much of a doctor I am? Because its 0%. Do not take my advice.

Seroquel works by blocking dopamine receptors in the brain, preventing excessive amounts of it which can cause hallucinations and psychosis. Dopamine is a type of neurotransmitter. Your nervous system uses it to send messages between nerve cells. Dopamine helps you feel pleasure, think, plan, focus, and find things interesting.

Seroquel has side effects. For me, it made me exhausted. All the time, with no letup. I was sleeping 20 hours a day. I lost so much time, and I felt like I was disappointing those who depended on me.

My husband, my work, my pets. Here again is the recurring theme of frustration.

Maybe you think I'm just being lazy; I should set an alarm and throw my feet on the floor and hop out of bed.

I wish I could, but I felt prisoner to the bed. I would be awake, and as I felt my medication begin to work, I would begin to feel a little drowsy. A few minutes of that, then I'd get a little dizzy, but I'd be okay. I'd keep working, or reading, or whatever. Suddenly it would wash over me, almost painful.

My eyes would blur, refusing to focus on anything. My stomach would tighten, pulling my head towards the desk. I could feel my temperature falling and my breathing slow. If I fought it, I grew nauseated.

It's like my body was in control of my brain; it was demanding I go to sleep. My brain would stop responding, and all I could think was "go to bed before you fall asleep right now." I was a hostage to the demands of the medicine.

So I would crawl into bed and sleep for hours. I'd wake up to my alarm; 12pm: time to take your next dose of Seroquel. Still groggy from the last dose, I'd put it off for an hour or two; I needed to eat, shower, and be alive for at least a little bit.

But I wasn't working. During this pandemic, I've been working from home. With my medication like this, I couldn't work. I was struggling to stay awake for 4 hours a day and I felt guilty about not spending those hours working.

When I am awake, I feel shielded in a way. I feel like something is protecting me from delusions, like I'm on the edge of a cliff with a rope holding me back from falling. I feel slower, like my brain just can't manage to access information that I know I have.

How old am I? Um…. … 23. No, 24? Yeah, 24. I think. I should know this.

The information is there, so why can't I recall it? Thinking becomes exhausting, trying to force myself to remember things and think through basic ideas. It feels like walking through mud.

So I started skipping doses. Yes, I know, mistake, mistake…

But I was doing okay! I was getting some work done, only sleeping half the day instead of the full day. I was feeling okay, too. Thinking a little easier. I was okay!

Until I wasn't.

I walk upstairs to take my meds (after having skipped a couple doses) and suddenly I don't know where I am.

Has the kitchen always looked like that? No, I don't recognize it at all. Why did I come up here again? Where did I come from to get here? Where was I? Where am I?

It was so fast. Panic set in in a minute or two, and I was so confused. Why was this happening? That dog… looks like mine. Sort of. Cheddar, is that you? No, that's not her!

"Bret..!" I call out, hoping he can hear me from wherever I am. "Help me!"

He replies "I'm in the bathroom." but I don't hear him. I don't hear him, so I'm convinced he isn't there.

I'm not in my house anymore and now I'm alone. Panic. What is going on?! So I begin to talk.

"No, no, no non ononono no nO NO!" I muttered to myself in disbelief.

I couldn't understand why this was happening. I begin to hyperventilate. I can't breathe. Is there air?

I'm suffocating.

I begin to scream, unable to contain the fear any longer. My cat walks up to me and I recoil, scared by the unfamiliar creature.

It takes me a bit to even realize that I'm screaming, and when I do, it only fills me with more fear. "The neighbors will hear me if I keep screaming, and they'll call the cops." I think. Maybe I said it out loud, I'm not sure.

"The cops will show up to see me screaming. They'll lock me up. They'll put me in mandatory psych! They'll kidnap me! I can't go! I'm scared to leave!"

My thoughts keep spiraling to worse and worse scenarios, so I force myself to stop screaming, returning to the muttering. "Quiet, quiet, quiet… you have… to stay quiet… or they'll come…." I mutter between heaving sobs.

I don't remember when, but I threw some things in my panic. My feet dug grooves into the carpet as they tried to push me farther and farther against the wall.

I look to my left and see a man standing there. When did he get there? Did he just say something to me? I thought I was alone in this strange place. Who is he? I push myself into a corner. Wait, that stranger looks like Bret, but why is he here?

I don't remember much else. Did I lash out at him, or simply pull away? I remember both, but also neither. He brings me to bed, checks all the rooms in the house for me, and gets me my medication. He brings my dog and helps me realize its her.

I am forever grateful for him. He is kind and patient, helping me as best he can. The next morning I am still shaken, the feeling still there, but milder. I call my med provider and change to Seroquel XR, which makes me less drowsy. I'm still working on getting used to it, and trying to find a schedule that works with it. I can't not take it.

So I log into work and hop on Zoom. Should I pretend I'm ok? Should I be honest and tell them how scary the world outside my bedroom is? My coworkers greet me with the normal "Morning! How are you?"

I'm not sure how to reply. I go between a generic "I'm ok, you?" and being a little more truthful "I'm not doing well."

Either way, I don't feel like myself. My brain feels like mud, and with the perpetual fear of the pandemic going on, It feels pointless to even be here. What does advertising matter? We don't even have product to sell right now, we're sold out. So why am I here?

But I push that aside, my mind too muddied to work through that. I float through the day, often sleeping through much of it.

But what other choice do I have?

I'm so frustrated.

#mental health #schizophrenic disorder #schizophrenia #experience

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