Substance Use and Schizophrenia

***This post does not serve as medical advice. This is just my own experience with substance use with my mental health diagnoses. Please consult with your doctor before using substances of any kind.***

My family and I have a very long and storied history with mental health and substance use/abuse. Quite a few of my family members have similar mental health diagnoses as I have, and many others have histories of substance abuse. On my father’s side of the family, my great-grandfather ran and distilled liquor on an island across the slough from my grandparents’ current residence, using the blue herons as an early warning system to avoid the police. I grew up hearing the cautionary tales of other family members stirring rubbing alcohol into their coffee in the morning when they didn’t have any hard liquor. On my father’s mother’s side, her birth father was an abusive alcoholic, prompting my blind great-grandmother, “Nanny” to take my grandmother and her older sister and run away in the middle of the night to escape his abuse.

Although my grandmother refuses to talk about it, my cousin (who shares a similar diagnosis) and I believe that we get our mental health issues from her side of the family.

I bought my first weed pipe at the age of 17 shortly after graduating from high school. I asked my friends who regularly smoked weed to introduce me to it. It was love at first puff. Being that I was only 17 at the time, I did not have much access to weed. That is, until I started college a few months later. It started out as just smoking at parties on the weekends. Fairly innocuous, right? Then, after finishing my freshman year, I bought an ounce of weed and made a big tray of brownies, which I stored in the freezer section of my mini fridge in my private dorm, courtesy of my position as a resident assistant (RA). Soon enough, I was ending my days with a weed brownie. On the rare occasion that I procured some flower, I would walk from my dorm and smoke at the nearby river. It was so peaceful, listening to the running water and watching the sunset.

My journey with alcohol was similar. I had a plug, and eventually bought a fake ID with my friends. It didn’t work at the liquor store, but it did work at our local convenience store to buy beer and wine. I was a bit of a party animal, to say the least. We had “Wine Wednesday,” “Thirsty Thursday,” Friday, Saturday, and Sunday to “prepare” for the week. I was averaging about 10-15 drinks per week, if not more.

My relationship with alcohol changed in the fall of my junior year. My roommates and I threw a party, where they made a disgusting concoction of everclear, Burnetts (which we called “Burnasty’s), Sprite, and green and red Hawaiian Punch. Needless to say, I drank A LOT. The party ended before 2 am, and I went to sleep. I woke up violently ill at around 5 am, clinging for dear life to the toilet, throwing up. I had my roommate drive me to the hospital, where they diagnosed me with alcohol poisoning. I had already thrown up so much that they didn’t even have to pump my stomach. They just loaded me up with electrolytes, water, and zofran, and sent me home after giving me a very stern talking to. I have never been able to drink like that again. Needless to say, I learned my lesson, and now I am averaging about three drinks per week.

This was about a year before being diagnosed with schizophrenia.

Later in the year, I got into a very ill-fated and unhealthy relationship with someone who also just so happened to have schizophrenia. They, to say the least, were a stoner. Never in my life have I met someone who smoked as much weed as them. I was curious about their condition, having not been diagnosed myself yet. Every website I visited warned about the danger of using cannabis and having a schizophrenia diagnosis. I brought this to their attention and was met with denial, outrage, and dismissal. Keeping this in the back of my mind, I let it go. None of my business, right?

Flash forward another year, long after we broke up. I was sitting in my new psychiatrist’s office, and he asked me if I smoked cannabis. I said I did. He confirmed what I learned a year ago. It is not a good idea to smoke weed when you have schizophrenia. I don’t know the mechanics of it all, but cannabis has been proven to increase the frequency and severity of psychotic symptoms.

Despite my doctor and therapists’ concerns, I continued to smoke. Five years later, I found myself needing to get a job for the summer. So I quit smoking. The mental clarity I immediately found was astounding. Not only had the hallucinations lessened, but the disorganized speech and thought I had been experiencing for so long had abated. Not to mention my wallet was thanking me, too.

Now, I’m not saying that everyone with schizophrenia needs to stop smoking weed for good. Not at all. What I am saying, however is that taking breaks, practicing moderation, and being mindful of your substance use can and will do wonders for your mental health. This doesn’t just go for weed. This piece of advice goes for all substances. Humans are so, so, smart. We put a man on the moon. We developed vaccines and nearly eradicated so many diseases. We are beyond smart enough to put down the bottle, to put down the joint, every once in a while.

I am trying to monetize this website, but I don’t really know how to, being famously bad with computers. So I’m going to plug my venmo and paypal. Any gifts I get from you all will be met with the utmost gratitude. I’ve got bills to pay, and pets to feed!

Paypal: @RyanYounker

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