I should probably begin this article by explaining what schizoaffective disorder is, since there isn't a whole lot of awareness around it. Schizoaffective disorder is a mental disorder in which one experiences symptoms of both schizophrenia and a mood disorder (either bipolar or major depressive disorder). For more information about the diagnostic criteria for schizoaffective disorder, read this.

Now that you know what exactly schizoaffective disorder is, I would like to talk about how it has impacted my life.

Disclaimer: This is an account of my own experiences with schizoaffective disorder, and it may not necessarily be representative of the experiences of others who have it. I am just one person and I do not speak for the entire schizoaffective community.

I will not go into detail about what my bizarre delusions are, but what I will say is that they are usually a more integral part of my day than tangible reality. (More information about delusions and the different types of them can be found here.) This makes it very difficult for me to talk about my life or my day, because I can't tell people about the aspects of them that are delusion-based.

However, that does not always mean I don't tell people about my bizarre delusions. In addition to schizoaffective disorder, I also have autism spectrum disorder, which can blur the line between what is and isn't appropriate to bring up in a conversation. Thus, I saw no problem with bringing up my bizarre delusions in conversations, since I personally didn't find them bizarre. People often respond with shock, disgust, disdain, speechlessness, and even never speaking to me again -- but there is also the occasional open-minded individual who will be like, "Oh my gosh! Tell me more!" and I then talk extensively about my second life. Yet despite their positive reactions and willingness to listen, they still call my delusions fake and can't accept that they are a reality for me. I'd be lying if I said this didn't hurt; they're not fake if you're the one living with them.

The other delusions I experience are persecutory delusions, which are scarier and less fun than my bizarre delusions. Because of my borderline personality disorder, I have an extremely negative reaction to someone abandoning me, not liking me, or possibly being mad at me. When this occurs, schizoaffective disorder causes me to believe that because the person I'm reacting to hates me, they are conspiring against me in some way. My most recent persecutory delusion occurred when a friend of mine was mad at me. I became convinced that he was plotting to kill me, and had special powers that allowed him to monitor my every thought and movement as well as track my location at all times. No matter how many times my friends told me that him plotting to kill me was unlikely or how much I realized that this particular delusion was illogical, that didn't quite register with my brain. I continued to panic and flee whenever I saw him, and if I could help it I did not leave my room. My symptoms of obsessive-compulsive disorder were also exacerbated; I became more fearful that I usually am of what would happen to me if I did not, upon the impulse, touch something within three seconds or knock on wood nine times.

The mood disorder symptoms of schizoaffective disorder are what I would say have wreaked the most havoc on my life. I have the depressive type of schizoaffective disorder, meaning that I experience major depressive episodes (more information on this can be found here) in addition to my psychotic symptoms. Major depressive episodes make my body feel heavy and immovable, which can make getting out of bed incredibly difficult if not impossible. They make me exceptionally exhausted and irritable. They make even the quickest and most painless tasks seem tedious and drawn-out. They make me feel so unmotivated and worthless that sometimes I skip my homework, thinking I shouldn't bother trying to complete it because I'm not smart enough and will fail all my classes anyway.

I think the most annoying thing about my major depressive episodes is how little talking helps them. Half the time my thoughts aren't even organized enough for me to articulate what's going on with me, and when I do manage to force my brain to articulate something I'm always disappointed by what comes out. It's not accurate, and I feel like what I'm saying is falling onto the ears of someone who doesn't actually care and is just putting up with me. As a result, the motivation to talk at all is lost. People trying to motivate me during my major depressive episodes is also ineffective, because every you can from them is drowned out by a million you can'ts from my brain. I like that they're trying, but I can never figure out how to explain to them that no amount of encouragement on their part is going to make me feel better. My major depressive episodes are impervious to logic and reasoning in that way.

As much pain as schizoaffective disorder has put me through, I personally believe that it is beautiful and one of my favorite things about myself. My bizarre delusions make me very happy, and I have produced wonderful works of fiction based on them. There might be nothing magical about my major depressive episodes, but they have made me better able to sympathize with, help, and understand people experiencing depressive symptoms. I therefore hope the stigma behind schizoaffective disorder as well as other psychotic and mood disorders comes to an end. We aren't evil, we aren't crazy, and we aren't lazy.