Jordan's Story

 I share my story not for attention or sympathy, but to offer hope. My journey has been shaped by addiction, mental illness, and a near-death experience that redefined my understanding of grace. Through the darkest valleys, I found healing and purpose. No matter how deep the pain, there is always a way forward. If my story can encourage even one person, then my struggles have not been in vain.

From an early age, I carried the emotional weight of those around me. My parents’ divorce left me torn between them, internalizing pain I didn’t know how to process. Moving to a new town made things worse. Social anxiety and bullying pushed me into isolation, laying the foundation for the mental health struggles that followed.

As a teen, I found escape in music festivals and the PLUR culture, but what seemed like freedom quickly became entrapment. Drugs, which I once viewed as harmless, led me down a dangerous path. My first experience with what doctors called drug-induced psychosis shattered my sense of reality. Fear and paranoia consumed me, yet I had kept silent for months battling on my own, afraid of being labeled "crazy."

Seeking help was both a lifeline and a battle. At least one psychiatrist insisted I needed medication for life, dismissing my concerns about severe side effects—including a gambling addiction seemingly triggered by the meds themselves. When I pushed for a careful tapering process, he smirked and said, “Stop if you want. I’ll see you back here in three months when your symptoms return.” When I inevitably did return, he seemed to use it as proof of his authority, ignoring my experience and, in my belief, overmedicating me to the point of absurdity.

Before my first hospitalization, I attempted suicide by jumping into the Niagara River above the Falls. As I was tossed by the rapids, I exhaled underwater, ready to drown—until I experienced something indescribable by words. Human intellect and the English language can only explain it as a blinding white light appearing. I felt my soul being pulled from my body, saw myself in 3rd person tumbling about the rapids, and in that moment, I encountered what I believe to be God. A calm, powerful voice that sounded like my thoughts told me, “It’s not your time to die.” Suddenly, I was thrown out of the rapids and was able to locate a rock, 400 meters from the edge of the Falls, where I clung to life for over eight hours before being rescued.

That moment changed everything. I had faced death and lived. I realized my life had purpose, and that healing—while never linear—is possible.

Today, I fight for those navigating a broken mental health system. Schizophrenics and those who experience psychosis or mania are widely misunderstood—if that's how the doctor's insist on describing me, I must advocate for the community in saying that we are far more likely to be victims of violence than perpetrators. Patients deserve more than rigid, medication-first treatment. They deserve holistic care, respect, and autonomy. Psychiatry must evolve beyond coercion and fear-based compliance.

To those still in the dark: You are not alone. Healing is possible.

As for me—I believe I am not psychotic. I am not manic. What I experience aligns far more with high-functioning autism (HFA) than with the labels I have been given. I believe it to be a Blessing, and not a curse or deficiency that requires medication. I am currently (as of 2025) in a productive but challenging dialogue with my care team, fighting for an accurate and fair resolution.