“During the month preceding my involuntary hospitalization, I sought help in multiple places – hospital, church, police – only to be turned away every time”
In this article I would like to talk a bit about some of the events that occurred before my psychosis culminated into a suicide attempt as discussed in my first article (You Can’t Unscramble The Egg). Namely, I would like to highlight the tragic lack of awareness about psychosis and schizophrenia. During the month preceding my involuntary hospitalization, I sought help in multiple places- hospital, church, police- only to be turned away every time. As you will see, there were many opportunities for me to have received the help I needed before I spiraled out of control.
First, I would like to mention that marijuana (and no other drug) was involved in my psychosis. My psychosis began when I was high, like a switch flipped inside my brain and the nightmare began. Cannabis Use Disorder was one of my diagnoses at the hospital.
Having a medical card, I thought I was being safe with the drug. I obtained it by telling a doctor online that I wanted to try marijuana for my depression. But if this doctor had been more aware of the link between marijuana and psychosis, he would not have given me the medical card given my pre-existing mental health condition (depression). During no part of our conversation were any side-effects of the drug mentioned.
And this is not just my experience. Many recent studies indicate that marijuana can trigger psychosis in people who are vulnerable to it. It is my opinion that marijuana should come with warning labels citing the risk of psychosis. With increased legalization of the drug, there needs to be more awareness and responsibility around this lifelong and potentially deadly side effect.
Police
The first time I sought help was at a police station in San Diego, CA. I was immensely anxious and paranoid at work one morning. I decided that I couldn’t continue running away from the CIA anymore, who I believed were going to frame me as the Antichrist. So my plan was to turn myself in at a police station and confess that I was the Antichrist and hopefully avoid being assassinated. Once there, I told the receptionist that I needed to speak with a police officer, but he turned me away because there weren’t any officers available. He said he could send one over to my place later that day, but I became suspicious that they were going to assassinate me, so I left.
Whereas I wasn’t outwardly displaying any symptoms of psychosis here, if someone goes to a police station looking to talk to an officer for whatever reason, I believe that person should be helped immediately. Is that any different than calling 911?
Hospital
Later that day, I decided to make my confession at the hospital. I figured they wouldn’t try assassinating me there. I was admitted to the ER under the pretext of a panic attack. Once inside, I finally told a doctor that I was the Antichrist. It took me a lot of courage to confess that. They took a urine sample and then brought me to a room to be given an interview. Mostly I was asked if I had any homicidal or suicidal ideations, which I declined.
I asked the doctor if this could be schizophrenia. I suspected schizophrenia because my friend had sent me an article claiming that weed could trigger it. I was ready to receive whatever help I needed if that was the case. But she said no; “it’s just thoughts in your head,” she affirmed. She was wrong, my official diagnosis later turned out to be Schizophreniform Disorder. I often look back at this moment as a potential turning point in my story.
They called in a psychiatrist, but he was rather curious about why I thought I was the Antichrist, so I became very suspicious of him and shut down. They let me go home with some pills (which I figured were cyanide) and with instructions to stop smoking weed (you can’t tell an addict to stop using and just hope for the best). A few days later, I’d slit my wrist in my bathtub in an effort to kill the Antichrist.
Antichrist delusions and religious themes are very common in psychosis. Any doctor, especially a psychiatrist, should have spotted this pattern right away. I wanted help and was ready to be committed to a psych ward if the doctor had agreed that this could be schizophrenia.
Church
The third time I sought help was a few days later at a church. I wasn’t exactly seeking help, but it was an opportunity for me to have received it. I was again at work one morning (I managed to hold down my job for a whole month while insane) when I decided that all these Antichrist delusions were a trick by Satan to interfere with my mission. I was now the Second Coming of Jesus Christ. It all made sense, with Ash Wednesday right around the corner.
I went to a Catholic church nearby to announce my arrival. The priest, however, wasn’t buying my story- he just argued with me that Jesus Christ is Catholic, which I’m not. I also told him that Pope Francis was the real Antichrist and he had to help me persecute him. I walked away frustrated, thinking that I had failed my mission as the Messiah- which would play a role in my next suicide attempt.
Considering that Messianic delusions are one of the most frequent themes in psychotic episodes, religious leaders should absolutely be more aware of this condition. They do say that a schizophrenic is more likely to see a priest than a doctor. Furthermore, certain religious beliefs, such as “demonic possession,” can be very harmful to those with mental illnesses, so there needs to be education here.
Police, part 2
The fourth time I sought help was with the police officer that picked me up in the desert, as told in my first article. I was crying when he found me; I desperately wanted help. But of course, I had no idea what was going on with me, so I couldn’t exactly ask for it.
He asked me why I crashed my car and I told him it was to “pay for my sins” because it was Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent. He also asked me about my drug use, and again, if he had been more aware that marijuana could trigger psychosis, he would have taken me to a hospital. Instead, he dropped me off at an unknown town, where two days later I’d throw myself naked in front of a truck.
I suppose I should count myself lucky. Encounters between police and psychotic patients can turn out deadly. It is imperative that first responders become more aware of the symptoms of psychosis so that they do not end up escalating a situation. More often than not, a person wants help, they just don’t know how to ask for it, or are under the influence of a powerful delusion (“the police are the Illuminati trying to kidnap me”).
Hospital, part 2
Finally, the fifth time I sought help was after my suicide attempt. I was taken to the ER in full blown psychosis, hallucinating nightmarish things and believing that the people keeping watch over me were agents of a secret organization. But the following morning I felt somewhat better and figured it was all just a bad dream. They gave me an option to check myself into a clinic and get help. I gladly accepted- I thought this was all going to be over now!
But I was tricked. They took me to a crisis center which is essentially a jail, only worse. The other “inmates” there constantly yelled gibberish and the lights were on at all times, making it impossible to sleep. I was treated like a criminal, like a heretic in the Middle Ages. If there’s a hell, this is what it looks like. My condition became much worse because of this traumatic experience. I ended up becoming violent.
Despite being immensely traumatized and suspicious, I was actually coherent and able to communicate normally. I believe that this treatment was unwarranted. This is not how psychiatric patients should be handled in our day and age, like rabid animals. I was again ready to receive help here, but the system failed me.
Too late
By the time they took me to a proper psych ward, it was too late. I couldn’t tell what was a hallucination and what was reality anymore. I was living in a parallel universe where nurses were Illuminati agents and the psych ward was their headquarters. I was both Jesus Christ and the Antichrist at once. Other patients were actors fooling me into believing that this was a hospital. Everyone could read my mind and there was a massive conspiracy revolving around me and my family. My mother was possessed by the Devil and was an impostor. The doctors and nurses lost patience with me and yelled at me many times. But they of all people should have understood that being overly paranoid and suspicious of medicine is a classic symptom of psychosis.
With all that being said, I do not blame anyone for what happened to me. Psychosis is a terrible condition and notoriously hard to treat. Even if I had been offered the help I sought early on, my mind would have probably come up with all sorts of conspiracy theories to sabotage it. But I do believe that I could have received better help.
It’s a miracle I recovered, but I will always carry the trauma with me. My mission in life is to raise awareness about psychosis so that others don’t have to go through what I went through. I hope to accomplish that by publishing my memoir which gives a very detailed account of my descent into madness.
My name is Raphael and I am UNCrushed.
