Allison Marshall

I am diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder, which basically means I have a mood disorder (in my case, major depression) and I suffer symptoms of psychosis like delusions and paranoia. In May of 2016, I suffered my first psychotic break with reality. My psychotic breaks feel like dreaming while I'm awake. Elaborate plotlines and scenarios overtake my conscious and I react to the real world as if these dreams were real. It's not hallucinating per say, because I don't literally see these images in front of me, but I see them quite vividly in my mind. In January of this year, I did something very foolish. I quit taking my medication. I was just so sick of pills, and disgusted by the weight gain my anti-psychotics had caused. I'd gone from 115 lbs to 150 lbs, and I know that 150 lbs is by no means fat for my height but I felt so uncomfortable. I wanted my body back. Depression seemed like a manageable monster. I was better, having graduated college and found a fu...

There's no such thing as soulmates. And yet, by the time they reach puberty, every citizen in the underground world of the Terraverse cries out a name in their sleep. The name of a person they feel intensely connected to, someone they dream of and long for. But no one finds their soulmate in the Terraverse and the people who believe too hard, miss too much, suffer the Flash-Out. Their blood glows white, and then they die. Natalie's sister just flashed out. She knows better than anyone that soulmates are no more than personal angels of death. Everyday, she fights to help others hang on to the Terraverse and the ones they love in the real world. Then, at a concert one night, she receives a phone call from a boy who claims he's David, her soulmate. He knows things he shouldn't know and his words touch the deepest part of her soul. As the Terraverse tumbles deeper and deeper into chaos, Natalie realizes that she needs to risk everything to find David. But flashing...

This is going to sound crazy. Because it is crazy. And you can't reassure me that I'm not crazy, I am diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder. This is crazy. And yet... I have tell this story. I have to put it out there. Because part of me is still hoping that somewhere out there... somebody's going to get it. It was March 14th, 2015, I was twenty-three. I had not slept in over 48 hours and it would be another three days and a trip to the ER before I would be able to. Wicked bad insomnia. All night long for two days in a row, I'd been mulling over everything I'd been through, everything I hoped the future would hold, and everything I needed to do to become the woman I wanted to be. So it happened, this Saturday in March, that I was pacing the empty office of the storage lot where I worked, walking around in circles with my finger pressed up against my lips, and all of my thoughts centered in on how much I'd changed. Then, it was like I recognized ...