10 March 2025
Back when TV was still relevant, people under 50 watched it, and Rove Live was a thing. Rove McManus used to say, "If you can't spot the weirdo on the bus, you are the weirdo."
When I'd hear him say that, I'd get nervous because, on some level, for a long time, after first developing the symptoms of schizophrenia, I was that weird guy, not that I fully recognised it.
For some reason, I had no problem with the label of schizophrenic and was happy to wear it and tell people of my disorder.
Increasingly, over that time, for a little over ten years, I was the weirdo on the bus, reading into interactions things that weren't there, playing out weird rituals as I thought I was being watched, yelling at walls that I thought they were listening.
I was all up in my head, a head full of paranoia and delusions of grandeur while seeing signs at every turn and thinking things were happening for my sake rather than life just going on around me.
I occupied a heliocentric world where everything pivoted around me. I was a weirdo; most people didn't want anything to do with me and went out of their way to avoid me.
I was the weird guy on the bus.
It all came to a head in 2012 when I had a complete psychotic break and ended up in the psych ward, where I was held in a room where everything was nailed down.
I was held captive there with a lovely young lady who was also in there for mental health reasons, a girl I would marry in that same hospital the next year and am still married to.
After my psychotic break, I went through a dark period for about six months, where the medication I took for my illness was changed.
As I became more cognizant and self-aware, I had to confront how weird I had been as I abandoned my delusions and came to terms with the fact I was isolated and had real issues.
I could have very easily ended my life in that period, but instead, I chose to own all my problems and get better.
I did get better, and if anyone would be bold enough to call me a weirdo now, I'd be judging them and where their head was at, before I doubted myself.
I still have my illness, but thanks to that illness and hitting rock bottom, I had to reshape my entire faulty mental schema.
I consider myself lucky; I have learned the things most don't bother with because I had to; I have died and been reborn. I still have schizophrenia, but when I look around the bus, I can spot the weirdos, and I know that's no longer me.