Today’s Our Land author has elected to remain anonymous. She’s amazing, lovely, talented, and is bringing this series a new perspective about something I hadn’t previously heard of – Schizotypal Personality Disorder. I thank her for sharing her story with us today. I think you will, too. Today’s Our Land – Schizotypal Personality Disorder.
Our Land, Our Magical Land
I appreciate the chance to write this post anonymously. The desire for keeping my identity unknown comes not from my own discomfort, but rather from respect of my child. The diagnosis is hers, and the sharing of that diagnosis should be hers, as well. However, I will introduce you to our land of schizotypal personality disorder. If you live in the land of SPD, maybe by reading this, you can feel less isolated. If you are a visitor to our land, hopefully you can understand the locals a bit better.
Our land is truly a magical land. Creativity abounds, and anything is possible. My daughter easily taps into her artistic side, whether that is in arts, music, or poetic prose. She can throw together clothing items I would never consider, and come out with a cute outfit.
Schizotypal personality disorder is not usually diagnosed until the late teen or early adult years. The magical thinking of my daughter makes her seem much younger than her years, though. My heart aches for her when she answers well-meaning questions about her future. She wants to attend a college that resembles Hogwarts, or that is located near hobbits or dwarfs. The shoe that Mother Goose’s Little Old Woman lives in provides a blue-print for my daughter’s dream home.
All is not unicorns and rainbows in our land, however. If my daughter can imagine it, it is possible—however unlikely “it” might be. She fears she has cancer. If a dog is barking in the neighborhood, she is convinced it is being tortured. She frequently notices CIA and FBI agents driving around in unmarked cars. We must sometimes speak in whispers, so “they” can’t hear us.
Though she does have friends, they are sometimes confused or hurt by her actions. She “has a gift” of being able to read the thoughts and intentions of others, and unfortunately, she reads those thoughts and intentions as being negative towards her. As a result, social interactions often cause her much anxiety and stress.
Fortunately, medication helps control the most severe symptoms. She no longer hallucinates. Her bedroom walls, once torn up in her quest to check for hidden cameras, have been repaired and remain so.
She realizes that I am real.
My dream is for understanding. My child is not her symptoms. She is a tender-hearted, kind person who needs reassurance. I appreciate her friends’ continued efforts to involve her in social activities. I appreciate adults who have also befriended her, and have invited her to help them with various projects. I appreciate my friends who do not judge my parenting choices—I might seem like an unusually strict parent for limiting TV and computer time for a late-teen child, but by limiting her access, her paranoia also decreases. My daughter is aware of how she is “different.” I appreciate everyone who sees beyond the idiosyncrasies and notices her heart. She has a lovely spirit, and I’m so lucky to be her mom.