Diary Writing

I composed this text during a time of profound distress and turmoil in my life—a period marked by perplexity, disillusionment, and revelation. I find myself grappling with a sense of limitation in my abilities, prompting introspection: will this state persist indefinitely? Might I be rendered incapable of meaningful work, and enduring relationships, and face a perpetual disability? Reflecting on my journey, I discern incremental growth: ascending from depths, I’ve gradually reached a stable point, sensing incremental progress each day. Will I return to my former heights? Is that truly the aspiration? It occurs to me that trials may serve as catalysts for personal growth, steering us onto novel paths. They challenge us with adversity, fostering self-awareness and encouraging fresh perspectives on life. At times, our complacency is disrupted, forcing us to confront life’s uncertainties and absorb its teachings. I write to impart my narrative, hoping it might benefit others as the act of writing has aided me.
Amidst the most daunting moments of my life, these trials ushered forth a realisation of my inner truth. It became evident that an internal imbalance necessitated change—a revelation gleaned from my past. Unbeknownst to me, navigating through the chaos was imperative to rectify my discordance and embark on a journey of self-discovery. Preceding the onset of psychosis, my internal and external realms were at odds: a constant clash between academic pursuits, sleep deprivation, and inadequate nourishment. Compounded by the continual challenge to my identity posed by diverse environments and individuals, subtle symptoms surfaced, yet I persistently disregarded these warning signs. Ultimately, my mind revolted, initiating a sequence from panic to breakdown.
I found myself thrust into the unknown, grappling with delusions, and hallucinations, and succumbing to paranoia, convinced I could intercept others’ thoughts. Life appeared starkly binary—defined by good and evil. Both the positive and negative symptoms proved equally debilitating. In the aftermath, I pondered, ‘How did this occur?’—an event seemingly random and unforeseen. Yet, upon deeper contemplation, its inevitability became apparent. Post-hospitalisation, I endeavoured to organise my thoughts. Following my brother’s suggestion, I employed a tool crafted by a distinguished psychology professor, parsing my life into epochs and scrutinising events shaping my core beliefs. I probed questions such as, ‘How has this experience sculpted my life and contributed to my current identity?’ ‘What led to this experience?’ ‘What impact did this have on my trust in others?’
During a phase of disarray, the tool offered a structured conduit for my thoughts, affording me a means to methodically channel my reflections. This process of mental organisation involved recording thoughts within the framework, prompting my subconscious to seek solutions. In the course of recovery, as I engrossed myself in writing, a sense of potentiality emerged from my work. This glimmer of hope, coupled with motivation, spurred me to transform my experience into a book—an instrument for personal development. The act of writing fostered contemplation, gradually unveiling solutions. Crafting the book demanded considerable time as I continually refined and revised the manuscript, observing incremental enhancements with each iteration. Yet, its true significance lies in the recuperative process—unearthing patterns and seeking answers.
Throughout this introspective journey, I came to recognise how we construct belief systems about the world, people, and ourselves. In states of resilience, we foster a grounded worldview, resilient against external challenges to our identity. However, susceptibility to mental health challenges exposes us to internalisation of external impacts. A complex interplay between genetics and environment engenders conflicts with the world. Our emotional threshold is tested, leading to symptomatic manifestations when the strain exceeds our emotional resilience.