The Quiet Room: A Journey Out of the Torment of Madness by Lori Schiller;Amanda Bennett

Author:Lori Schiller;Amanda Bennett
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Schizophrenics - United States - Biography, Psychopathology, Health & Fitness, Diseases, Schiller, Social Science, Schizophrenics, General, United States, Mental Illness, Schizophrenia, People With Disabilities, Biography, Biography & Autobiography, Lori - Mental Health, Psychology
ISBN: 9780446517775
Publisher: Hachette Digital, Inc.
Published: 1994-01-02T05:00:00+00:00

For the next several months, I felt better. It was as if in trying to kill myself, I had made an acceptable offering to the Voices. The volcano of their rage had erupted, and then subsided. I was more tranquil, more in control. So by spring, I decided to try to take another vacation.

I booked a trip with the Tufts alumni association. There would be people my own age there, from my school, my parents reasoned. I would meet people, make friends and have a good time. I picked a trip to Morocco. It was music that governed my choice. The Crosby, Stills & Nash song about riding on the Marrakesh Express had always fascinated me. Morocco seemed like an exciting, adventuresome place. I wanted to go someplace exotic where no one I knew had been.

But the trip was a disaster from the start. There were no Tufts alumni in the group, and no single young people. Everyone was old, or in pairs, or had young children. I felt alone and frightened the moment I stepped on the plane.

I hated Morocco. The people in the streets seemed so pitifully poor that I ended up giving away my meals to the little bug-eyed kids who looked so hungry. Mopeds were the vehicle of choice, and their buzzing about confused me.

But the worst thing was the sun. It was incredibly hot, beating down on the white buildings. It was so hot and so fiery that even in normal circumstances it was uncomfortable.and dangerous for people who weren't used to it to walk about. For me, it was even worse. After the suicide attempt with Mellaril, Dr. Rockland had switched me back to Thorazine. I was taking huge doses of it, and one side effect was to make me hypersensitive to the sun. I had a tough time dealing with ordinary daylight. The fierce Moroccan desert sun was murder.

I used lotion on my skin, and wore long-sleeved shirts. But I couldn't do anything about the part in my hair. I lathered the part up with sun-tanning lotion. I couldn't find a hat anywhere, so I put a towel over my head. Even that didn't work. The sun fried my scalp through everything. I came home from my first day walking and sightseeing in tears from the scalp burn.

So I decided to stop the Thorazine.

I arrived in Morocco on Sunday. By Wednesday, I was actively psychotic. People were wailing around me. My room was filled with candles, burning all day and all night, on the bed, on the floor, on the walls. When I showered, I heard my father's voice screaming at me out of the shower head. He was using words I didn't understand, speaking in a language I couldn't comprehend. Then his voice became many voices and I couldn't understand them either. I tried to figure it out. I was in a foreign country. Maybe the voices were speaking in some other language. I doubted it though. I was going crazy. That was it.

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