At twenty one I intuitively knew that my first relationship was about to end, and I was becoming more depressed than I'd ever been before, so depressed that I could hardly physically move. I didn't know at that point that I was about to lose my first love, my career and my mind, in one fell swoop.

I'd been depressed before though I didn't know it, at twelve years of age, and though a change of schools, and making new friends did help at that age, I remained somewhat depressed until I turned seventeen. 

But this was different, my partner and I had been smoking marijuana, on my days off, I was a third year student nurse at a major Brisbane hospital, he was an Olympic athlete. We'd also used cocaine a few times in our year together, but I never liked it. I wasn't into drugs until I met my partner, I was swimming a kilometre a day, I was fit and healthy and thought I'd met someone similar, since he was an elite athlete. The marijuana was really strong stuff, I'd wake up in the morning with no memory of how I'd gotten to bed. Considering I was only smoking a very small amount, the marijuana was not the only cause of my first psychotic breakdown.

That year of the relationship, was immensely stressful for me, my partners friends and family really gave me a hard time, as when I met him he had a girlfriend, which of course I didn't know about. When I found out we'd not been intimate, I was prepared to end it right then and there, however he told me that he wanted to end his relationship, that they'd not been intimate for a long time, and he was so upset, he was crying. So I decided to continue with the relationship and support him through his breakup. Big mistake.

During the whole year of the relationship, I was basically abused emotionally, by his mother, friends and ex girlfriend. 

I was also sitting for my hospitals exam just prior to getting sick, an exam including three years of work, which needed to be passed to qualify sitting for the state exam, which would have been my final exam to become a registered nurse.

I first noticed something was wrong with me when I woke one morning to go to work, and noticed that I felt paranoid like I normally would after smoking pot. I'd never woken up with that symptom before, didn't even realise it was a symptom at the time. I did however ask a male nurse friend of mine, who I knew smoked, 'Have you ever felt paranoid without smoking pot', he said, 'no'.

I would have gone to the doctor right then and there, except my doctor was a staff doctor at the hospital where I worked and I was too afraid to tell him I'd been smoking marijuana in case I lost my job. I was so worried I didn't think about the Hippocratic oath and that he wouldn't be able to say anything, also I was paranoid.

Right here at this moment in time, I had a small window of opportunity, where if something was done, I'd seen a doctor, been given anti psychotic medication, even being put in a psyche hospital at this point, I would have been fine in a couple of weeks to a month, I'd say.

But that didn't happen, what did happen, was a tragedy, a life altering experience, which nearly destroyed me and which was the beginning of a lengthy journey towards recovery.

Very quickly I went from being aware of the paranoia symptoms of psychosis, which initially was the only symptom I had, to losing insight and not knowing I was having these symptoms, or being able to articulate them. When you're paranoid you don't trust anybody, you become very fearful of being around people you don't know, thinking that harm will come to you.

After not talking to my partner, who I was living with, which he must have found very strange. I rang my sister, asked her to come over as I needed to talk. I'd not asked her over before, she was also a nurse working shift work, we only really saw each other on a Sunday when our cousin would have us over for afternoon tea. She was always the only person I trusted when psychotic.

The only thing I remember saying to her was that I thought our father had interfered with me as a child. Which was a false statement that I made two more times when psychotic but the perpetrater changed each time. The bad thing was that my sister told my mother, (my parents had been divorced since I was six), in the earshot of a family friend and he told my father. My poor father, after a year had gone by, at a family barbecue he took me aside and just started crying and told me that when I was little he didn't even pick me up he was worried he'd hurt me with his big hands. It was the first time I'd seen my father cry, and I'd never felt so guilty. I told him, 'I know dad, It's alright I'm sorry I wasn't in my right mind'

Not long after talking to my sister I called my mother and asked her to come and get me, she knew about the pot smoking and came straight away and took me home. She blamed my partner, as she knew I was easily led and that I'd not been using before I met him. She could always tell if we were visiting her place and had had a smoke, no one else ever could tell, she said to me, 'when you were little you were so sick with your asthma I used to watch you sleep, and also I could tell how sick you were by looking into your eyes, I know your eyes.'

The next thing I knew, to my surprise my partner turned up, by this time I'd stopped talking completely, I was just sitting and staring at the clock on the wall watching the second hand tick over. My mother had tried everything to make me talk, she tried kindness and understanding at first, when that didn't work she tried yelling at me to talk.

My partner spent the night, he slept quite well, I on the other hand just looked at him not sleeping at all, not talking either, trying not to touch him in the single bed. The next day he left and I didn't see him again until I was in the psyche unit.

My not talking at my mothers place went on for a week, she took me to her psychologist, who I'd seen just the once, I refused to go in. The psychologist came out, we were actually at her home, she said to me, ' if you don't talk now things are only going to get worse' and she was right, however I couldn't say anything. I remember it was like I was regressing, in my mind, getting younger and younger, until I was around one year old, then I couldn't possibly speak. My mother rang my sister as I wouldn't come out of my room and was sitting up against the door, not letting anyone in. My sister just pushed the door open slowly until she could squeeze in and I started giggling like a young child, my sister also stared giggling, though, I don't know what her excuse was. 

My mother decided to take me to her G.P the one I'd had growing up. This Doctor was a very sober doctor not one for making jokes or being friendly, but he was a good doctor. While I was sitting in his office with my mother I had my first hallucination, I swear to God that doctor was wearing a Daffy Duck mask, I knew he wasn't Daffy Duck, but he was wearing the face of DD with thin elastic around his head holding it in place. Then I knew something was seriously wrong, another thing that happened in that office was as I was sitting there I thought that nurses from the hospital I worked at and girls from my Catholic girls school, were walking passed the office, talking and laughing, at me. I'm sure it was the staff at the surgery, probably other patients as well, but the paranoia made me think that was what was happening.

After that experience in his surgery, I refused to leave the Doctors office, I certainly didn't want to go back home, to my mothers, I knew where I had to go. So the Doctor called the police and my mother and I were taken to my hospital where I worked, twenty five kilometres away in the back of a police car with lights flashing and sirens blaring, how embarrassing, I lay down and put my head in my mothers lap. All I could think was please, don't let me see anyone I know.