*Trigger warning* for upsetting psychiatric experiences.
I have difficulty writing about this stage of my life so I apologize if this doesn't make sense.
When I was a teenager, I was suspected of having a psychotic disorder. My parents had good health insurance and even though I really didn't act psychotic, they got convinced of this by doctors who were ill-informed.
But in the end, I was given many different antipsychotic drugs which I tried to avoid, but in hospitals they have ways of making you take drugs apparently (though I don't remember that) and at home, I don't know what I was thinking. I had very bad side effects from them, extrapyramidal side-effects and other effects. None of them seemed to make me better, they made me worse. But the doctors and parents thought many of the side-effects were symptoms of me being psychotic. Finally I was given a dose of a new drug to try and I had an episode of what I now believe was neuroleptic malignant syndrome, a potentially life-threatening side effect. It nearly destroyed my life because when it was all over, I was really, really broken. My brain didn't work, my body was stiff, my kidney and liver were malfunctioning. I later was misdiagnosed with a neurodegenerative disease that I am pretty sure I don't have--it was just left-overs from that drug experience.
My parents thought the catatonic symptoms that began the moment I took my first dose were caused by my mental disorder, but I could feel myself and my ability to move or communicate slipping away. I tried to tell them that something terrible was happening and that I had a fever, but they ignored me. I lost two weeks of time. My mother told me that I wasn't able to go to the bathroom by myself, and I kept trying to pack my bags to run away, in between periods of just staring into space. I remember the moment I 'woke up'--I was propped up in a chair in the living room, and I saw a pilgrim girl suddenly walk in front of me, as though exiting an invisible envelope, and then disappear as if she had walked into another invisible place. I tried to speak to her in my mind but instead I spoke out loud, and the sound of my voice woke me up. This episode cemented in my parents' mind that I was hopelessly crazy, and they told me they had no idea how to help me, so they were giving up. So I didn't have to take any drugs after that.
A couple of years later I experienced a similar (but not so severe) bad reaction to anesthesia while getting my wisdom teeth surgically removed.
I wonder if anyone else has been through this kind of thing. It's very hard to find narratives of what neuroleptic malignant syndrome feels like from the inside, I guess because the people who tend to suffer it (people with psychotic disorders) are a very stigmatized and de-voiced population.
Last night I realized the pilgrim girl I saw as I was coming out of my drug episode might be an alter--she had that same feeling of "truth" I feel when I recognize alters, and as I was sinking into the episode, I wrote something (which I didn't remember writing) that seemed bizarre but could be seen as pilgrim related. Or maybe it was just drug side effect hallucinations.
Sorry this is so long. I can't really edit it properly.