From the time I started receiving treatment for paranoid schizophrenia up until recently, my motto has always been to strike when the iron is hot. The significance in my life of that old adage is that I never know for how long I will stay healthy (the course of this illness is undulating), so I better get as much productive work and play in while I’m feeling well; however, this has not been working out very well. Instead, I have come to realize my need to play it smart and pace myself. Pacing is the key to surviving schizophrenia.

After a lot of deliberation and self-analysis, I found that I’m disabled from some things but not everything. While it might be incredibly difficult to do manual labor or repetitive tasks, I can think on a deep and creative level quite easily. It seems I’m most disabled from entry level jobs, but I could possibly do the work at a higher up level, where there is more contemplation. Of course, no one starts at the top, so I find myself in a difficult position. But I reasoned that if I could get through college and finish up my degree, perhaps I would be able to do the entry level work after all (I am healthier than I was years ago, though it looks like I’ve reached a plateau). Accordingly, this fall I enrolled at the University of Minnesota to finish up my undergraduate degree in hope that the degree would springboard me into a career. I went into school guns blazing, but I ended up shooting myself in the foot.

            You see, I was healthy at the time I started school, and because of my newly improved health, I decided to strike when the iron was hot. I went for too much too fast . . . and that was only taking one course (okay, so I had originally enrolled in two courses, but dropped one before even going to a single class). I pretty much knew immediately that it was too much for me to handle, but because I wanted it so desperately I continued to attend longer than I should have. Even after the very first day of school I had started to hallucinate, which I hadn’t done in about a year prior – not a good sign. While I was in school, I was having a terribly difficult time sustaining my attention and concentrating. It made sitting through class feel like a living hell. Many have said I could have just tuned out the professor and sat through class, but that wasn’t a possibility. For whatever reason, it is impossible for me not to pay attention to what is going on . . . it might be that my brain is structured that way, or else it could be because I’m generally on “high alert”, or both. I don’t know what it was, but the cognitive problems I was having in class made it impossible for me to go to class, and the stress of the deadlines was enough to cause me to have increased positive symptoms. So I had to drop out of college once again. I tried to strike when the iron was hot and I refused to pace myself.

But attempting to go back to school wasn’t a waste. I now have a better understanding of my limitations. What this means is that even when I’m feeling great, when I’m healthy, etc, I am not going to over-expose myself to higher stress levels than normal; the setbacks I get from over-exposure to stress are just too harmful to my wellbeing. This is especially true because I have a tendency to have suicidal thoughts after setbacks.

            There is one problem though: because I’m trying to live my life with slow improvements that are sustainable over the long term, people look at me and my life and assume I’m taking no actions to better my situation—such just isn’t the case. If I’m unhealthy and doing little to nothing, no one bothers me about not achieving, but when I’m healthy and doing little to nothing, everyone seems to have to point out to me how lazy I have become (FYI: it isn’t laziness anyway, it is a negative symptom of my illness that is experienced as a lack of motivation). It is the long term that concerns me and overall I have been making some slow progress; in the beginning of my treatment I had done nothing, and now, about five years after the diagnosis, I have written a book, given many speeches, started a church ministry, and helped numerous people. It only appears I’m not making progress because it is slow progress. In the past I was dismayed about the slow pace of things, but now I’m realizing that is absolutely necessary.

The best advice I can give someone right now is to take your time. Just relax and take it easy. There is no point in rushing because it will only backfire on you as the stress mounts and the symptoms come cascading back again. Relax. You will be able to do something purposeful. You will have a meaningful life. It will just take time. Be the tortoise and not the hare—slow and steady wins the race. And who knows, maybe after years and years of struggling through the long race, you will find yourself an “overnight” success.