I've recently been diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder(Depressive type) after 3 years of hell. Its hit me hard as i always thought things would turn out better , if you get me. Ive had bad days alot. And some good days. Im on medication , abilfy 15mg , fluxotine 30mg a day and i feel that it just works for a bit then stops. In the past i had taken seroquel which didnt work at all and risperidone which did work but i had bad side effects and had to change drug. Its doing my head in. I just want to get better ! I wish there was a mircle drug or something , something that would take the voices away. The voices are loud and agressive, they tell me to do things that i shouldnt do. Things got so bad i was admitted to a mental health unit for 3 months. I was in a safe place but i got no help with coping and my medication was removed in the process which added insult to injury.

I feel very alone as i have no one to talk to who has the same diagnoses as me, understands me, or understands what i am going through.
I would like to be able to use this forum to meet people who are similarly affected and able to understand and offer support as id like to do the same.

I was doing pretty well for a while. My coping skill was eating(more of a mechanism) and it was helping me a lot. Now, I can't even stomach anything. The closer the trial is getting, the more my depression is hitting me. It feels like I can't distract anymore. I can't even look at anything with a razor any more. I feel so sick. Some one please help me.

At the age of eleven, five years ago, I recall calling a voice in my head the narrator, because he would refer to my life in third person, always negatively, constantly talking, and arguing with me, To this day. As far back as I can remember I have had a want to become female, purely for physical reasons, however, this need was intermittent, usually I had the standardly accepted gender identity, I even imagine being a father- not a parent or mother, a father- and now at sixteen my gender identity feels as if it has split into two, transgendered and 'normal,' while I am now 'turned on' by material of transgendered nature at times, but usually am not. The narrator has also evolved, triggering bouts of sudden uncharacteristic anger, while I am usually calm and cheerful. I sometimes find that my face is curling into a look of anger or contempt, or that I have sudden images of badly hurting people who do something I dislike, that may have been an acceptable thing to do, but for whatever reason I just feel foreign satisfaction in imagining pain.

I began looking through myself, basically just trying to figure out what the hell is wrong, and the following are the results:

At the age of six I had a crush on a girl in my primary school class, she left that year, for other reasons. This is the most definite starting point I can place for my tgism. then, at eleven, I had my second crush, on another classmate, and she walked up to me and told me to stay away from her shortly after the two friends I told this secret to went and told everyone. My theory is that my subconscious took these rejections, and the stereotypical views on geeks and indians, and sculpted from them the idea that I was so repulsive that the only way I could ever have a girl in my life was to be a girl, and so that shard of my gender identity broke away, and from this information I called that shard Lust. Lust doesn't seem to be as conscious as the narrator (who is now named Anger), though she has on two occasions exclaimed on how 'hot' a guy was, though this may be because of nightly masturbation to the idea of being a girl, leading to lust already being expressed. Anger, however, is kept under lock and key, and so usually has a voice. There are other signs as well. I used to use electronic devices excessively, even when supposed to be sleeping, but I voluntarily stopped, and recently I've started feeling tired after 11am, as if I hadn't gotten the sleep that I obviously did. Occasionally, when writing, my hand forms a squiggle instead of a letter, and my handwriting has deteriorated, and today when trying to write while holding the pen loosely, I could only make squiggles.

There may be other voices, occasionally when playing a sport I become giddy, speaking without thinking, and really jumpy, and sometimes I hear a crowd, but that may be Anger messing with me.
There's a chance I am only imagining all of this, but I don't want to take that risk.
Help me please.

Ok, so I've been up for about a half an hour since this "nightmare" that I had. I don't remember the beginning but, it was short, extremely vivid and has me a little shooken up.
Ok, so I was at my ex boyfriends house. His mom had this extremely amazing camera which she let me use to take some quick pictures of. So I proceed to the back door, snap a picture of the sky from the back porch. Then I end up towards the end of the back yard by the fence while holding the camera on an angle. I take a picture of the backyard and the back of his house and review the picture. There, I see a little girl, in a purple dress with curly long brown hair bending over picking a dandelion. I look away from the camera in awe checking to make sure I'm not seeing anything, but low and behold I am, I just captured a ghost on camera. She was freakishly see through but yet so bold. I then run around to the front of the house avoiding her area. I run in the house and show the picture to my ex boyfriend telling him "do you see anything wrong in this picture!?" He then says, no. Then I zoom in on her, and he says "wow that's insane" and calls his mom over. I then show her, and it begins to get darker and darker in the house while she just has a blank stare on her face. She runs upstairs disappearing saying, "someone turn some lights on in this house" meanwhile, I literally cannot breathe, I am literally having a panic attack in my dream as my ex boyfriend picks me up and holds me. I then awaken from this physically terrifying "dream" with my mouth open, and I'm stuck. Literally stuck for twenty minutes in a daze and I cannot move. After I actually come to my senses I'm scared, terrified and in a lot of pain. As of right now, about an hour after my dream, my legs hurt really bad. Like they got ran over or something. A very dull pain shooting from my hip down to my big toe. I have never EVER experienced a "dream" like this before, and if anyone has any insight, or opinion as to why I woke up in pain from this, it would be appreciated. I'm honestly still in shock from how vivid this little girl was. I'm too afraid to go back to bed and rest peacefully.

From what I have been told, I was talking and walking by 9 months old. Perhaps it is an exaggeration, but I can attest to the ease I have experienced in school, with dealing with problems, and assessing the “right” behavior in situations.

I have had one imaginary friend, from what I can remember, since I was about two years old. I remember when he first knocked on the door, a back door with a mud room in my house, and I let him in. I would tease my Dad that he was my boy friend. He kept me wonderful company and was an enlightening, safe harbor. I remember another time when someone entered through this same door. I remember that I was handed a stuffed animal by this man, but I cannot recall any more.

When I was seven, I remember feeling sure that I could survive on my own, if only my parents would let me alone. In kindergarten, I could read chapter books and would forge my mother’s signature on the homework list each week. I remember wanting the independence from my mother to moderate my own life.

My favorite thing to do at that time was read. I had a children’s encyclopedia and learned about sexual reproduction in this fashion. I discovered an obsession with looking at Michael Angelo’s “David” sculpture. I would sit and look at it for different durations each day.

Between seven and nine, my parents split up (though, I had suspected it for over a year). At this time I began having very sexual, very vivid dreams. One dream I remember was of my self in a hotel room, seducing a much older, ugly man. I believe between six and seven I was sexually abused again, by the same close friend of my family that had been in my life much earlier, and that I had let into my home through the mud room door. I cannot remember it happening, but I have returned to a certain event when I remember I was alone with this person, and there are blank spots in my memory.

I started touching my self with my dolls or stuffed animals around this time, I don’t really understand why. I would “tell” my sister’s fortune by looking into my crystal ball. Around the same time I stopped feeling normal. When I saw myself in the mirror, I felt an intense, unnatural feeling. It was almost disgust. It increased when I had on feminine clothing. I still feel it, sometimes seemingly random and sometimes by noticeable triggers, to this day.

When I was nine, I realized that my father was not scary. I saw that he would raise his voice to intimidate me- and, I saw that it was just that- and that I was capable of it too. This led me to a strange relationship with aggression. I began to “dominate” my siblings, feel an anger that was confusing and overwhelming. I felt as if something in me was red fire hot, and I had no control over it, nor the ability to stop it, nor the knowledge of how it started. I felt like a victim while I victimized other people. And still, though less frequently and with more control to mask it, I have this sensation of being a puppet. At this time I also began trying to study witch craft and wanted to be a vampire. I would mediate and attempt to make spells.

By the time I was eleven, I was not only participating in on-line sex and wishing to be kissed by a boy at school, but I was finding attendance at school more difficult, as well as having increased bouts with anxiety and depression. This only worsened as I got older. And by fourteen, I was full blown suicidal. My parents attempted to get me help, but the doctors, therapists, teachers, and medication were so easily manipulated that no one could touch me.

I would get into these crazed, raging fits of frustration and aggression. I would yell, scream, shake, cry, weep, sob; I was frightening. I started “cutting” which was mostly scratching. I started messing around with older guys. I started lying and going out and trying to drink/party as much as possible. When my father would have a chance to sit and talk to me, he would try to hug me, but I would yell insults until he would give up. I remember ...

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