Delusional Thinking in Schizophrenia

I’m usually solving some complex puzzle that doesn’t exist. Putting numbers and words together until I’ve cracked the code.

My name is a month. I wasn’t born in August, but my name is August. You were born in August. That must mean you’re special. Or am I special? Maybe we have a special mission. Maybe we should get married. Are you my clone?

2+7=9 right? So I was born in 1995. That’s two nines. What about the one and the five? The 2 and the 7? Maybe 9 8 7 6 5? What adds up to 8 though? I forgot more numbers.

Art by Kate Fenner

I’ve seen three spiders this week. No, four. What does that mean? Bad things come in fours? No threes. Will I die on the 4th? Were they omens? Four omens warning me of?

I’m exhausted. I exhaust me. It’s nothing. It’s all nothing. It’s nonsense. But I can’t stop. I can’t stop the carousel from turning and churning the delusions inside of me until I’m wearing a beekeeper suit to bed so the spiders can’t get me.

Black hair. Blue eyes. All my serious boyfriends have had black hair and blue eyes so the next one must. Are they demons? Why black hair and blue eyes? Am I attracting ghosts? What’s the message here? Are they robots? Are they all the same person? Is this a trick?

I twirl around and tell myself that I must not turn myself back around because I’m in a new universe and everyone is the same except off by one molecule. And so am I. It’s the new me, right?

I can’t take it anymore. I can’t stand the stupid thoughts that always lead me nowhere, tricking me into thinking I can travel through time and space when really I’ve just been staring at the ceiling for three hours. And I can’t take it when I’m screaming and you’re hiding from the mean words that come out of my mouth and my memory is filled with bright white spots so I don’t even remember what I’ve said to hurt you.

I take my medications that I thought make me normal enough. But I still scream and cry and solve the questions of the universe which is actually nothing at all except me writing in circles.

Art by Kate Fenner

I’m tired of being this girl, asking the same questions over and over. Tired of the confusion and memory loss, trying to explain my thought disorder, my obsessions and delusions. Tired of telling myself to step hard twice and then soft or the world will implode. I thought I wasn’t sick anymore. But schizoaffective disorder is not curable. I will always be a freak with my hands over my ears screaming at the loud noises and bright lights and strange people because deep down, most of all, I am scared.


August B Pfizenmayer is the founder of Survival is a Talent. She is a freelance writer, blogger, and student. A story about her life with a mental illness has been published in the next volume of The i’Mpossible Project. It is available for pre-order and will be in stores November 2017. You can connect with her on LinkedInTwitterInstagram, and Facebook.


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8 thoughts on “Delusional Thinking in Schizophrenia

      1. It feeds the fire that is my primary delusion and that is that demons are following me. I assume the ads are communications from a demon giving me a heads up. Once all I saw were bladder/cancer related ads: I believed that it was a sign that I had bladder cancer.

        Liked by 1 person

  1. The random and dis-jointed thoughts that you wrote are a very good insight into a world most do not understand. I, myself, haven’t had that courage yet.

    A freak? Every single person thinks that of themselves at least once in their lifetime, even if they’re in their 80s. You aren’t a freak…. just as I am not. It took me years to come to terms with that since most of my friends left me when I got the diagnosis of Schizoaffective Disorder. Apparently the term “Schizo” created fear in their minds… I have no idea.

    Those who stayed, though, became my advocates. Especially during psychotic episodes. I have this illness. Most would want to go back and erase it’s existence… but I wouldn’t. I don’t know who I would be without it, and I would almost certainly not know who to really trust.

    And being scared… is very common for people like us with thought disorders. I’m scared too.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you. I know you’re right. I’m not a freak, but when I’m venting I just let it all go, you know? It just feels like my mind is unraveling much of the time. Like I’m losing my thoughts too quick to catch them and sift the delusions out. My thought disorder has gotten progressively worse the past two years. And I don’t know why. It scares me.


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