Welcome to Schizophrenia

Do you know someone who seems like he or she has “lost touch” with reality? Does this person talk about “hearing voices” no one else can? Does he or she see or feel things that others can’t? Does this person believe things that aren’t true?

Sometimes people with these symptoms have schizophrenia, a serious illness.

What is schizophrenia?

Schizophrenia is a serious brain illness. Many people with schizophrenia are disabled by their symptoms.

People with schizophrenia may hear voices other people don’t hear. They may think other people are trying to hurt them–we call this paranoia. Sometimes they don’t make any sense when they talk. The disorder makes it hard for them to keep a job or take care of themselves.

Who gets schizophrenia?

Anyone can develop schizophrenia. It affects men and women equally in all ethnic groups. Teens can also develop schizophrenia. In rare cases, children have the illness too.

When does it start?

Symptoms of schizophrenia usually start between ages 16 and 30. Men often develop symptoms at a younger age than women. People usually do not get schizophrenia after age 45.


What causes schizophrenia?

Several factors may contribute to schizophrenia, including:

  • Genes, because the illness runs in families
  • The environment, such as viruses and nutrition problems before birth
  • Different brain structure and brain chemistry.

Scientists have learned a lot about schizophrenia. They are identifying genes and parts of the brain that may play a role in the illness. Some experts think the illness begins before birth but doesn’t show up until years later. With more study, researchers may be able to predict who will develop schizophrenia.

What are the symptoms of schizophrenia?

Schizophrenia symptoms range from mild to severe. There are three main types of symptoms.

Positive symptoms refer to a distortion of a person’s normal thinking and functioning.

They are “psychotic” behaviors. People with these symptoms are sometimes unable to tell what’s real from what is imagined. Positive symptoms include:
  • Hallucinations: when a person sees, hears, smells, or feels things that no one else can. “Hearing voices” is common for people with schizophrenia. People who hear voices may hear them for a long time before family or friends notice a problem.
  • Delusions: when a person believes things that are not true. For example, a person may believe that people on the radio and television are talking directly to him or her. Sometimes people believe that they are in danger-that other people are trying to hurt them.
  • Thought disorders: ways of thinking that are not usual or helpful. People with thought disorders may have trouble organizing their thoughts. Sometimes a person will stop talking in the middle of a thought. And some people make up words that have no meaning.
  • Movement disorders: may appear as agitated body movements. A person with a movement disorder may repeat certain motions over and over. In the other extreme, a person may stop moving or talking for a while, a rare condition called “catatonia.”

Negative symptoms refer to difficulty showing emotions or functioning normally.

When a person with schizophrenia has negative symptoms, it may look like depression. People with negative symptoms may:
  • Talk in a dull voice
  • Show no facial expression, like a smile or frown
  • Have trouble having fun
  • Have trouble planning and sticking with an activity, like grocery shopping
  • Talk very little to other people, even when they need to.

Cognitive symptoms are not easy to see, but they can make it hard for people to have a job or take care of themselves.

Cognitive symptoms include:
  • Trouble using information to make decisions
  • Problems using information immediately after learning it
  • Trouble paying attention.

Helpful Links for Further Thought

The Mayo Clinic: Good, solid and trustworthy, a great introduction.

WebMd: Early Signs to look for.

World Health Organization: More advanced, but still accessible and understandable.

 

When There’s Blood in the Water

It’s a fact. Biologists tell us that sharks can smell blood from 2-3 miles away. They follow their noses to the place where they sense it. They have an ‘attack mechanism’ that drives them to their victim . Blood acts as a trigger inside their brains. Occasionally dozens of sharks attack in a feeding frenzy.

Over 40 years in the Church has taught me that sharks aren’t the only ones that turn on the wounded.

The Church is supposed to be a safe and a healing place.

This is what the Holy Spirit wants. That isn’t always the case. Someone fails, another falters. Sin is uncovered and the sharks move in. There is blood in the water. Now things don’t always work this way, but it does happen.

There are some who might be restored, and yet others are trampled down instead.   There’re many who would rather pounce than pray. Unfortunately when the “sharks” attack it almost always ends up being a as a vicious personal attack. It only creates more blood in the water.

There are many who are bleeding.

They are those with a mental illness, or confined to a wheelchair, or with Downs Syndrome, they are the first that come to mind. They’re often the the very sick, the developmentally disabled, the drunk, the addict, the adulterer, the disabled, the homosexual, the poor, and the ex-con who are just several kinds of people that regularly get hurt in our churches.

Matthew 5:7, ESV

Mercy is what God extends to people who don’t deserve any. Failure to understand God’s deep penchant for the broken puts us in a bad place. We don’t always understand. Keep in mind that the Prodigal’s older brother refused to party with the forgiven son.

How terribly sad, and religiously confusing. I have to wonder, who really has been attacked by the enemy? The Kingdom of God is specifically designed for losers; it exists for the sick, the stumbler and the sinner.

In theory, we agree with Matthew 5:7.

We find tremendous inspiration when this verse is read. But the noble feelings don’t always translate into dedicated action. I’ve come to see that I must consciously press this into action. I must actively show mercy for the healing of others– and if anything, just to protect my own heart.

The Great Physician has come for the sick, not so much who consider themselves healthy.

He loves each of us, but Jesus cares in different ways. He tailors His grace to fit our sin. He’s concerned for the very worst of us. Yes, repentance is necessary and crying out to Jesus for healing is always needed.

Jesus has always been associated with the lowly.

If there is blood in the water, let’s turn it up a notch, and let’s show special mercy for those who are struggling. Let us be kinder than we have to be. If we err— let us always err on the side of mercy and kindness. 

For further studyPsalm 72:13; Psalm 82:4; Matt. 9:12; Romans 15:1; 1 Thess. 5:14;

&

On Being Loved More Gently

There will be no wheelchairs, canes, or even ‘seeing-eye dogs’ allowed in heaven. Outside the gates, you will find a huge pile of crutches.

Some of us have been struggling with mental or physical illness, facing a daily battle against invisible demons that others cannot comprehend. It is a lonely journey, as many people around us don’t understand the depths of our pain, and they unknowingly contribute to our isolation. Their lack of understanding can be hurtful, as it reinforces the feeling of being abandoned and forgotten.

We might wonder why God has afflicted us with such burdens. We might ask ourselves if we are being punished or somehow cursed. These thoughts can shake the foundations of our faith..

However, it is important to remember that our struggles do not define us.

But God’s promises do. We are not defined by our illnesses. We are warriors, fighting battles that others cannot see. Each day we wake up and continue to fight, we display immense strength and resilience.

In our darkest moments, it can be helpful to lean on spiritual things, to seek understanding in prayer or worship. Connecting with the Holy Spirit can bring a sense of comfort and peace, even in the midst of our pain.

Remember, we are not alone in this.

We are surrounded by a community of individuals who have faced similar battles. They are rooting for our success.

Disability doesn’t separate us from our Father’s love. 

I believe He loves “his special needs” children even more. There’s a special intimacy that leads to gentleness and wisdom. He loves you enough to give you these wonderful gifts.

We believe that our transformation is happening, more and more, into the image of Christ.  We are becoming like him (hence the word, Christlikeness).  This is a long process, but it is happening!  (Philippians 1:6). God has given his word.  Don’t give up. It may take years, or maybe taking just a few moments.

I believe Jesus understands us perfectly. He is up to something quite wonderful.

“And I am certain that God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until it is finally finished on the day when Christ Jesus returns.”

Philippians 1:3-6, NLT

I really hope that you walk in your own shoes, and not be somebody else. Also that you would know the grace of God intimately. Being disabled means a special kind of grace–Jesus’ love for your soul is molded to fit your disability.

I’d like to imagine that there will be a considerable pile of wheelchairs, canes and crutches outside the gates of heaven.

You must believe this. Glory awaits you. Your healing is sure.

(Check out Rev. 21:3-4.)

“I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.”

Romans 8:18

 

“Darkness is My Only Companion”

Ambrose of Milan (340-397)

Our theology makes all the difference in fighting depression, writes Kathryn Greene-McCreight, Author of “Darkness, Is My Only Companion” and Episcopal priest.

In his Problem of Pain, C. S. Lewis says that suffering is uniquely difficult for the Christian, for the one who believes in a good God. If there were no good God to factor into the equation, suffering would still be painful, and  ultimately meaningless.

For the Christian, who believes in the crucified and risen Messiah, suffering is always meaningful. It is meaningful because of the one in whose suffering we participate, Jesus. This is neither to say, of course, that suffering will be pleasant, nor that it should be sought. Rather, in the personal suffering of the Christian, one finds a correlate in Christ’s suffering, which gathers up our tears and calms our sorrows and points us toward his resurrection.

In the midst of a major mental illness, we are often unable to sense the presence of God at all. Sometimes all we can feel is the complete absence of God, utter abandonment by God, the sheer ridiculousness of the very notion of a loving and merciful God. This cuts to the very heart of the Christian and challenges everything we believe about the world and ourselves.

I have a chronic mental illness, a brain disorder that used to be called manic depression, but now is less offensively called bipolar disorder. I have sought help from psychiatrists, social workers, and mental health professionals; one is a Christian, but most of my helpers are not. I have been in active therapy with a succession of therapists over many years, and have been prescribed many psychiatric medications, most of which brought quite unpleasant side effects, and only a few of which relieved my symptoms. I have been hospitalized during the worst times and given electroconvulsive therapy treatments.

All of this has helped, I must say, despite my disinclination toward medicine and hospitals. They have helped me to rebuild some of “myself,” so that I can continue to be the kind of mother, priest, and writer I believe God wants me to be.

During these bouts of illness, I would often ask myself: How could I, as a faithful Christian, be undergoing such torture of the soul? And how could I say that such torture has nothing to do with God? This is, of course, the assumption of the psychiatric guild in general, where faith in God is often viewed at best as a crutch, and at worst as a symptom of disease.

How could I, as a Christian, indeed as a theologian of the church, understand anything in my life as though it were separate from God? This is clearly impossible. And yet how could I confess my faith in that God who was “an ever-present help in trouble” (Ps. 46:1) when I felt entirely abandoned by that God? And if this torture did have something to do with God, was it punishment, wrath, or chastisement? Was I, to use a phrase of Jonathan Edwards’s, simply a “sinner in the hands of an angry God”?

I started my journey into the world of mental illness with a postpartum depression after the birth of our second child. News outlets are rife with stories of women who destroy their own children soon after giving birth. It is absolutely tragic. Usually every instinct in the mother pushes toward preserving the life of the infant. Most mothers would give their own lives to protect their babies. But in postpartum depression, reality is so bent that that instinct is blocked. Women who would otherwise be loving mothers have their confidence shaken by painful thoughts and feelings.

Depression is not just sadness or sorrow.

When I am depressed, every thought, every breath, every conscious moment hurts.

And often the opposite is the case when I am hypomanic: I am scintillating both to myself, and, in my imagination, to the whole world. But mania is more than speeding mentally, more than euphoria, more than creative genius at work. Sometimes, when it tips into full-blown psychosis, it can be terrifying. The sick individual cannot simply shrug it off or pull out of it: there is no pulling oneself “up by the bootstraps.”

And yet the Christian faith has a word of real hope, especially for those who suffer mentally. Hope is found in the risen Christ. Suffering is not eliminated by his resurrection, but transformed by it. Christ’s resurrection kills even the power of death, and promises that God will wipe away every tear on that final day.

But we still have tears in the present.

We still die. In God’s future, however, death itself will die. The tree from which Adam and Eve took the fruit of their sin and death becomes the cross that gives us life.

The hope of the Resurrection is not just optimism, but keeps the Christian facing ever toward the future, not merely dwelling in the present. But the Christian hope is not only for the individual Christian, nor for the church itself, but for all of Creation, bound in decay by that first sin: Cursed is the ground because of you … It will produce thorns and thistles for you …” (Gen. 3:17-18).

This curse of the very ground and its increase will be turned around at the Resurrection. All Creation will be redeemed from pain and woe. In my bouts with mental illness, this understanding of Christian hope gives comfort and encouragement, even if no relief from symptoms. Sorrowing and sighing will be no more. Tears will be wiped away. Even fractious [unruly, irritable] brains will be restored.

“Darkness: My Only Companion”

Kathryn Greene-McCreight is assistant priest at St. John’s Episcopal Church in New Haven, Connecticut, and author of Darkness Is My Only Copanion: A Christian Response to Mental Illness (Brazos Press, 2006).

Click to read Psalm 88