In 2007 I was given risperidone to help with my autistic meltdowns. Every time I'd go to school, I'd get severe bullied and it never stopped. Teachers wouldn't do anything and at the time were fighting the idea I was autistic. My parents were trying to get me diagnosed, but they saw me as a naughty child.
When I did get diagnosed, the support never came. I used to have a teacher knock on my door and drag me to school, at one point she had a go at me. We were in broad daylight in the street, when I shut down she didn't care.
Kids would pick on me for everything, the bullying was extensive. It was traumatic.
In 2008 I stopped medication and this was meant to be it. I remember my last imaginative thought, every night I used to lay in bed and see pictures behind my eyes. To get cosy, I'd imagine myself in Bikini Bottom along with SpongeBob and all his friends.
My last thought was me being in his Pineapple waiting to go jellyfishing... then my imagination went hazy.
In 2011 was when the abuse began, they took me in and diagnosed me with depression. Only depression, despite the countless abuse in schools. Despite being surrounded by violent criminals. Despite watching my mum get kidnapped and r@ped.
CAMHS started me on some medication, citalopram being one, fluoxteine being another. At the time, they were observing me because they believed my parents were starving me. I was being given unfair treatment, every doctors appointment. They thought my BMI was too low and that I was anorexic.
Meanwhile they didn't understand why the medication never helped me. Well, I guess because trauma can't be medicated alone.
I remember when I was given an adult dose of an antipsychotic, it would knock me out for hours.
I never had any chance to go off cold turkey. Nobody tapered me. I remember having a book full of pictures, fan art of Phineas and Ferb, I was learning how to draw and creating things. Like those frames? I can't remember what they're called, but I was trying anatomy and stuff.
I remember that slowly fading after every single dose.
It reached a point where I was no longer able to see a single thing in my head. Any small traces of my creativity were wiped out and it hurt so much. I remember writing in my diary "I used to be able to draw now it's gone."
I remember the amount of hours I'd spent frustratingly trying to create a fanfic, only to come out with nothing. I tried to relax. Tried to visualise. Yet nothing happened. My brain remained blank. And every single attempt left me in tears.
Whenever I wanted to hear a characters voice I just couldn't. Do you know how frustrating it is to strain and strain just to hear anything?
I couldn't see hugs, I couldn't see anything. And whenever I look at artists being able to share things, I look back at myself as a child and wish things were different.
I may use AI, but that's my only way to see things now. It gives me a choice. It means no longer do I have to suffer and not be able to hear a character speak. It gives me something. And when I share those tiny pictures of Wallace kissing Willard. It's to say "hey I was thinking of this". Because that's all I can do.
And when someone showed me their sketch because my picture was a small contribution. A small way to say "hey isn't this a great idea?" it made my day. I got to see someone draw Wallace in glasses.
It isn't the same as those who use AI to be lazy. It isn't the same as someone with aphantasia yet has their imagination. If I had my imagination, I'd use writing. I'd create little head canons. I'd write stories.
It isn't the same as those who want to hurt others. It isn't the same as those who can learn to draw but don't want to. If I tried to draw and god knows I've tried for years, there wouldn't be anything behind it. There's no creativity or imagination. It's painful. It's agonising. I don't get the freedom to suffer while being able to enjoy. I can't just visualise what I want to. My brain is as empty as CHATGPT is.
All because of medication.
Hence why I don't draw often. Because that took me years to learn, and it was chemically destroyed.
If my imagination and creativity could come back I'd be happy.
