My First Psychotic Episode, Anxiety, and the Holidays

One of my favorite memes on social media says something like,

“It’s almost time for me to put away my normal anxiety and put on my fancy Christmas anxiety.”

Christmas is a very anxious--even manic--time of year for many people. But I have a special reason why my anxiety skyrockets around the holidays.

My First Schizoaffective Psychotic Episode Was During the Holidays

I had my first schizoaffective psychotic episode right around Thanksgiving of 1998. It escalated from Thanksgiving through the New Year. It changed my life forever.

Here’s how the world existed during my psychotic episode. I was at the Rhode Island School of Design (RISD), which is really a pretty manic place. There are a lot of celebrity offspring, celebrity alums, and big-name artists at RISD and Brown University, a campus that overlaps RISD’s. I met Ted Turner’s son, who graduated from RISD a year or so before I started there. And George Harrison’s son, Dhani, was at Brown when I was a student. This put me in a pickle because I was obsessed with the Beatles. I didn’t know if I should approach him, knowing nothing about him except for his father’s band years before either of us was born.

When my schizoaffective psychotic episode began, it latched onto all this star-studded fervor. I called my Mom up and told her George Harrison was following me. My brother later asked me if it was good that George Harrison was following me since I was such a big Beatles fan. It wasn’t good. I was scared at the thought of a man I didn’t really know following me, Beatle or not.

My Mom flew from Chicago to Providence, Rhode Island, to be with me while I tried to finish the semester. I went on antipsychotic medication but crushing psychotic symptoms lingered. My Mom took me back to Chicago in time for Christmas, and I transferred to The School of the Art Institute of Chicago a few months later.

This Schizoaffective Sometimes Wonders, ‘Why Me?’

I broke down and started crying while I was writing this. I wonder, “Why me?” But then I think of the dialectical behavior therapy (DBT) coping thought, “Why not me?”

Many people--well, most middle-aged people--say they’ve grown up a lot since college. I feel that I’ve healed a lot since college. I’m happy to say that I’m on a good cocktail of medications and that I no longer hear voices, a symptom that triggered my psychotic episode back in 1998. Anniversaries of bad events are hard for everyone, though. That’s why my anxiety and depression amp up around this time of year. But my support system of family, friends, and doctors help me get through it.