The Mind That God Restored
I take three main medications to help me become less symptomatic of my condition.
My condition?
Schizoaffective Disorder.
If you know anything about this condition, it's a neurochemical condition that inhibits the role of dopamine through medication.
My brain makes too much dopamine, and this means that when unregulated, I become manic, delusional, and psychotic.
The good news is I take Lithium as a mood stabilizer, which affects dopamine in my mind; Trintellix, which is an antidepressant that helps lessen depression; and Invega, which is a dopamine inhibitor and blocks the D2 receptor.
How does this help me?
It stabilizes my mood, takes away the intrusive thoughts, and I can manage my moods better.
However...
Because my dopamine has been manipulated, I become flat, I don't experience emotions like joy, and I can become a dull zombie.
I still have my intelligence but don't experience the joy of discovery when I learn something.
I don't get that surge of dopamine when I am curious or find out something new because the medication is blocking it.
Although it may appear on the outside that I am unmotivated, lazy, or disconnected, the chemicals in my mind make me flat.
This is known as anhedonia, which is the idea that one loses pleasure because of the chemistry in the mind.
There are days when I solve a problem, learn something new, or hear a compliment, but I feel nothing.
It's like watching my life through a pane of glass.
I'm aware of what's happening, but I can't feel the impact.
That's what dopamine suppression does; it numbs not just the bad but also the good.
But here's where things started to shift, not through another pill, but through presence.
The presence of the Holy Spirit.
My mom said God was restoring my mind, and I believe her.
I used to think I had lost my mind, but now I see it differently.
God was holding it for me until I was ready to carry it again.
People tell me I'm brilliant, and I believe them. But brilliance without joy feels like a prison.
I can think clearly, but I can't feel clearly.
It's not that I don't care; I can't connect to the care.
In June, it will mark the fourth anniversary of my suicide attempt.
I ingested a bottle of Lithium and a bottle of Seroquel, hoping I would not wake up.
I've come a long way since then, and I am able to articulate my thoughts more than I ever have.
Each day is a journey. I navigate this world with the tools I have, both chemical and spiritual.
The path is not always clear, but there is movement, change, and hope that one day, the clarity I have in thought will also be present in my emotions.
The numbness is a challenge, but it is not the whole story. It is a chapter, not the entire book.
Anhedonia, as experienced here, presents as an emotional detachment, a muted response even to positive stimuli.
This lack of pleasure stems from dopamine suppression, a side effect of medication used to manage schizoaffective disorder.
Dopamine is crucial for the reward pathways in the brain, particularly involving the nucleus accumbens, which drives feelings of pleasure and motivation.
Reduced dopamine also affects the prefrontal cortex, potentially diminishing the emotional connection to decisions and the ventral tegmental area, the source of dopamine.
Even the amygdala, which is involved in processing emotions like pleasure, experiences diminished responses.
Overcoming this anhedonia involved not just medication adjustments but a significant element of personal belief and spiritual connection, highlighting the complex interplay between neurochemistry and subjective experience in mental well-being.
Overcoming this anhedonia hasn't been about a new prescription but a slow, sacred return.
Not just of feeling, but of faith.