In my mid-teens, I was diagnosed with schizophrenia, and put on medication. I never really had typical schizophrenic symptoms, and I felt like my illness was really more, but the doctors told me that I had it, and I accepted it. It runs in my family, after all.
I had gone to many other doctors, both before and after my diagnosis, and none told me that I have schizophrenia, just the opposite. But since the schizophrenia doctors were personal friends of my mother, we didn't doubt them.
Most of my recent life was painful, because I had lost all my academic skills. It was difficult for me to learn anything, or to do math.
I failed exams regularly -- in fact, I'm now 21 and still not out of 12th grade. (I was homeschooled after illness made it too unbearable to go to school.)
My parents lost all confidence that I could do anything, and I became increasingly isolated from the world outside my room. They distrusted me even more when the shrinks told them I was intentionally failing exams. The internet was the only salvation for me.
...but recently, I stopped one of my schizophrenia medicines. And I found out that I was capable of doing math again. Capable of learning whatever I wanted to learn.
And then it hit me. I wasn't dumb, the medicines made me dumb. The very things that were supposed to make me better had in fact been the cause of my life being so miserable.
I was angry, and I still am. This is the first time I realized what it meant to be truly not responsible for the world you live in.
I don't believe I have schizophrenia anymore. I hope I can get my life back on track now. Wish me luck.