The devil in the bottle doesn’t play nice with a schizophrenic’s personal demons.
Everyone talks about how college kids get drunk and party. That was not me.
A little after I turned 21, I was diagnosed officially with schizophrenia. After that, I still tried drinking small amounts of alcohol a few times. But I was scared of getting drunk. Because bad shit happens to schizophrenics who drink to excess. Or sometimes if they drink at all.
When you already hallucinate on a good day, guzzling down booze doesn’t help the situation.
Anti-psychotics are dangerous if you drink alcohol with them. They can have adverse side effects or intensify the symptoms of schizophrenia.
I never actually understood the appeal of alcohol, but when I was first told I could not have it, my initial reaction was frustration. It was just another “can’t” in my life, another road barred to me as a schizophrenic.
Now I have accepted it as part of me. I don’t drink. Even if my schizophrenia was miraculously removed, I probably wouldn’t drink. Living without it made me realize it was so far from necessary, and I haven’t even properly missed it.
Funny, my alma mater would have approved of my choice, being a dry campus. One of the only things in my life now they would approve.
Post 5 in Socially Unacceptable: The Daily Life of a Queer Schizophrenic Wreck (2022)
This is an autobiographical series about my life, something I have wanted to do for a long time. I intend to add new content daily.
For the whole series, follow this link.