Family and Caregiver Schizophrenia Discussion Forum

Toni in a state hospital

toni went into a mental state hospital and have written her and she has done the same, she is doing better , but she stops her meds and gets nuts again… and then she goes back on, and she talks right and says things ok… i dont think she remembers to much. as she asked me what happened to the two years ago before i went into the hospital… ??? i worry about her getting out again and being reamitted again and again… but we parents keep on being there for them we love them and continue to cry and try and try again. that is strength that god gave us… and there is a place in heaven for us caregivers, and may god grant you all a peace of heart…


I’m sorry for what you are going through. I am looking to get my brother in a state hospital at least to get him to sort out his medications since he refuses to take them and we practically had to force him to take his shot last week. How difficult was it to get her in that hospital? Right now we are being told my brother would not qualify but maybe he will if he is evaluated again but he doesn’t want to go to psychiatrist neither. How long do they keep her there?

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Mine served 3 months for aggravated assault and battery, only time and age fixed her violence…

One thing I can suggest is to keep a written detailed record of your loved one’s mental health history including dates (hospitalizations, doctors, meds, arrests, 911 calls, incidents that show harm to self or others including debilitating lack of self-care). If you can document these things and provide it at an opportune time when she is spiraling downward and needs hospitalization or you have concerns for hers or anyone else’s safety, this will help you get her detained and kept inpatient to get some help. Being “readmitted” is how they get help when we can’t make them take meds. But in the U.S., it is hard to keep someone against their will for very long, even if it is for their best interest. I met another mom recently who insisted over and over again that her adult child get ACT…which is Assertive Community Treatment…which includes wrap-around services in the community…and that their child could NOT come home. NOW, their child is getting longer term HELP in a group home and the parents, for once, have some peace of mind. The love their child but this is what it takes sometimes to truly help our loved ones. Compassion can sometimes mean doing the hard things.



Im curious if anybody dealing with a Catatonic SZ loved one ever experienced any aggressive behaviors?

My very first encounter with SZ when I was in my teens and it was a very close childhood friend. I had already left “the nest” and about a year and a half later had gotten a call from another close childhood friend saying ‘something happened. Something happened to ****. You should really come back. We need help and we’re not sure what to do. It’s bad…’
I made the effort and the trip.
My first impression was this:
My old friend was there, in body, non responsive for the most part. His body was there, I could see that he was in his body, but his mind and body didn’t seem to be in tandem. And, he didn’t speak…
His body moved so slowly and rigid when he actuated a movement that it looked as if he was living in his own molasses bubble. His joints seemed locked, down to even his fingertips, hands locked into a perpetual state of fused ‘fins’.
His eyes never moved. Dark. Black. Vacant…

I played it off… I acted like nothing at all was happening and we were just ‘hanging out’. I talked to him about my thoughts and where I’d been and what I’d seen and asked questions just as you’d do as if you were sitting with anybody else you hadn’t seen in awhile. Yes, it was one sided, there was never any verbal response, my questions were answered with silence, not even an acknowledgment… just a vacant strait stare at the space between the coffee table in front of him and infinity…occasionally an almost indistinct nod to my dialogue.
I spent five hours doing this.
At one point, slowly, very slowly, he turned his head and said in an odd sing-song way “you gotta seeee this.”
Robotically, he put himself back into what I think of as ‘start position’ and slowly, very slowly, stood up. Calculated.
And waxy. That’s the best way to describe it. Waxy. When you watch a candle burn too deeply into itself and then you trim the wick so that the flame gets tall and it warms the whole top body of the candle again and the wax slowly rolls and folds it’s outside rims in on itself. Like that.
He stood and walked, calculated, waxy, down the hall to the next room.
He was in a sparse apartment, basic yet ‘homey’, livable but not clean, nothing but a random photo in a frame atop the tv. It was of a family. They looked happy. But not his. Like the ones that come with the frame when you buy it…
A chemistry book in a language I’m pretty sure he didn’t know fluently on the coffee table. Nothing else.
He’d been an academically brilliant kid. He’d been normal in that he engaged with friends, did what boys do. He had a family, siblings, a good life.
I followed him (excruciatingly slowly) down the hall. He opened a door to what I understood was his sleeping space. Three blankets layered on the floor, a dirty pillow, and the walls plastered with pages of artwork he’d drawn from who knows how many 8”x10” pages of who knows how many sketch books.
He slowly (not sure how common laws of gravity and physiological makeup allowed this to go so slowly) actually allowed is descent to sit on the floor. He started to speak… (my instantaneous brain: hey! Welcome back!) He spoke slowly with deliberation, pointing out random places in the murals of paper-book pages with drawing on them. “And this one… is you. And this one is is where I “fell””
And he actually slowly looked at me and expected me to understand his ‘“fall”.
Eventually, I told him I loved him, and if he ever needed anything to make sure that he called…
And I lived my life, and occasionally I’d get a call… and the other end of the line would be silent. Id say ‘ Hey **** ! How are you?! With cheer and smiles and love in my voice. The other end of the line would be … silence.
So I’d talk, about everything, and anything as if it were a normal conversation. To myself.
When I got tired, I’d say that I loved him and and that I was going to get off the line. And BAM I’d hear a desperate “don’t go yet”
So I’d sit. On the other end of a silent line, just talking to myself about what I was doing at that moment, wether it was lacing my boots or walking out to look at stars and I’d describe them or I’d take those same boots off and feel grass under my feet and how soothing the dew was between my toes in the grass (probably pissed on) and that was ok.
As far as I can tell, he just needed to hear and know some level of ‘normalcy’.
*when our loved ones trust, use that. Don’t abuse that.”
He always had the number to call… so I said.
I never picked up again.
This makes me an asshole.
To the question at hand…
Has anybody ever experienced aggression out of a CATATONIC SZ loved loved one?

I can’t imagine my old friend ever being aggressive. In that, as I’ve lived and worked with many degrees of folks over the years , catatonia by definition, is non-responsive.

It really is the toughest variety.
Such a bizarre brain disease.

To, everybody here:

MAKE IT ABOUT YOU, just for a moment!!!

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With my family member…Catonia, yes. Aggressiveness, no. Recovery, yes, but it took a lot of work and resources due to the initial anosognosia. I used this site when I wanted real medical research and details:

we have been writting each other, though she was doing ok… now talking to you on phone… she has lied and wants me to come and get her… she still wont sign a release paper saying i can talk to the nurses. so i called the business office,and she said, they arent going to release her as yet. and she hasnt been in a group therphy, wish i know she has,.for awhile i wont talk or write her for awhile… i just dont know about her… but still praying for her…

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I have never been on my knees so much as when our son with SZ was missing and homeless! But I also did all I could possibly do to LEARN about mental illness and what I CAN DO to help. I just want to let you know that there IS help and hope, there ARE resources that God gives us, to help us help our loved ones, as well as ourselves. We are not promised a life free of hardship, but there ARE things we can do. If you haven’t already read it elsewhere, I continue to encourage people to utilize the free resources from NAMI (National Alliance on Mental Illness) for starters.