“I found freedom in my diagnosis. I found a map to myself.”

Schizoids are known for having quite a monotone voice and an expressionless face. Whilst I was taught by my parents how to mask in social situations, going to this state of flatness is inevitable. It affects relationships, especially those moments when I first talk to someone and they find me odd, frown and go away.

Another thing that can be severe for me is the lack of empathy. If someone is experiencing something generally considered severe, I manage to understand that and I know what is socially acceptable to say. But for ‘little’ things I just don’t understand other people’s big feelings. That gets me the ‘insensitive’ title right away.

As a schizoid, I don’t experience happiness. I am capable of getting excited, but not really happy. We live in a constant mild depression, which is why a major depressive episode comes with an extreme low mood- almost unbearable. I started to experience all of this since my teenage years, as far back as 14-15 years old.

In terms of relationships and education, I remember this particular period when I went to high school. It was my first year, and none of classmates previously knew me. Most of them seemed afraid to approach me. They avoided me for a long time, therefore making friends was very difficult.

At the same time, a bunch of boys told me I’m arrogant and that I believe I’m better than anyone else. That’s why I wouldn’t try to fit in, hang out with them and laugh at their jokes. Truth is I never had terrible opinions about them, rather the solitude never bothered me anyway. I also didn’t want to bother them and many of their jokes were really, really puerile and I truly didn’t find them funny. It took me five years to befriend more than one person. That should say something.

In the meantime all of the teachers told me I’m mature and they liked that. They hated to see me dissociated all the time and would chalk it up to lack of attention or sleepiness. It’s incredible how in this era people still don’t know what dissociation is.

In friendships I can easily be called insensitive or accused of not paying attention. I don’t care. Dissociation makes me hear things and perceive them later than it’s socially acceptable. So yeah, I heard the phrase, “You really don’t care, don’t you?” way too many times. Funny, when they’re saying it in a serious tone, it’s not true. Whilst they’re joking, yes, there are plenty of things I truly don’t care about. My closest friends tend -still- to not believe it.

About two years ago I found a therapist, a young one, someone that I could just go to and tell her, “Look, I’m weird. I have no name for what I’m experiencing, but maybe you can figure it out. I am for sure not normal and I need a name for it to at least start to understand myself and stop hating myself for all of this.” And I told her how I was feeling, bits about childhood and friendships and at some point she told me that she wants to test me for all personality disorders. That’s when I scored highly for SZPD.

When she told me about it, I had very little understanding about PDs so I viewed it as a bad word, one step away from asking if she’s actually telling me that I have schizophrenia. She reassured me with facts and research that these are two different things and I started to learn about it. I found freedom in my diagnosis. I found a map to myself. We then started DBT therapy with mindfulness and the first lessons (observe, describe, be non-judgemental) helped me a lot.

It was even visible to those around me. I’ve been able to ground myself when dissociated a lot more easily since then and it also reduced my anxiety quite a lot. I still have a long way to go, but these results made me trust the process a lot more and made me open up to the therapist a bit more. I haven’t taken meds so far and I don’t intend to.

I did speak to people about my SZPD. Online seems to be easier- people give you time to say more about it, or they’re wondering what it’s about, so I can actually explain what it is. In real life or face to face, it is a lot more difficult. I noticed that if I say something like, “I have SPD, it makes me a bit of a lone wolf, and it’s not schizophrenia,” I might actually get the chance to talk about it and raise awareness.

If I don’t add anything to it, first I must face their stares. They literally make faces. Then they either ask me if I’m schizophrenic or they tell me that I’m making it up, that I am normal and I should stop with this nonsense. In conclusion, the faster I am to explain, the better. It’s sad if we think that globally about 10% of the population have a personality disorder, yet people generally know nothing about them. Believe me, when you do the math, 10% is not a small number at all.

I wish people knew about personality disorders. I wish they would take them seriously, like actual impairing disorders, not like a personality type like MBTIs or zodiac signs. I wish they would understand that when personality traits are part of a disorder, you can’t just stop being like that. There is, “If you want to, you can change!” There is a serious need for a professional help. You can’t “Just smile!” or, “Just be positive!” These phrases simply make no sense in a brain like mine.

For me SZPD can be either a peaceful flatness or an anxious battle with myself. Some days I’m content with the void inside. Nothing matters, nothing has meaning and it’s okay. Other days I realize I need to make connections with other people, I feel an urge to mask, to smile and it can all crumble in the second I’m seeing another human being and my brain says nope, back to being alone.

It’s really a continuous battle. Honestly, I’m so lucky that my partner understands all of this and they don’t ask me to mask, they don’t get angry if I don’t smile. I’m finally allowed to be myself and it is a relief.

In the future I know I’ll meet more people who will find me odd and will want me to mask, but as long as my partner accepts me just the way I am, and as long as I keep working on myself, I’ll be okay. I know I’ll be okay.