Finding our way in the world

Our ninth support group meeting brought four of us together. As always, the conversation wandered gently from one person's experience to another, eventually revealing a theme that connected us all: how do we remain engaged with the world without becoming overwhelmed by it? One member shared that they had been unwell with a fever during the week. At the same time, they found themselves overwhelmed by the constant stream of news and social media. The suffering, conflict, and endless information felt impossible to digest. It reminded them of an earlier period in their life when they would become absorbed in trying to understand the world's problems until their thoughts began to spiral. They spoke about the fear that perhaps they were "losing their mind" again. As we listened together, we recognised how difficult it can be to distinguish between being deeply affected by the world and becoming overwhelmed by it. Many people living with psychosis carry a heightened sensitivity—not only to their own experiences, but also to the suffering they witness around them. Finding ways to stay informed while also protecting one's own wellbeing is a delicate balance. Another member shared happier news. They had recently attended a public protest, camera in hand, continuing a long-standing commitment to documenting social movements. They described a tense moment when they were briefly detained and asked to delete their photographs, before quietly revealing that they had safely preserved the most important images. As they spoke, there was a spark of satisfaction—not because of confrontation, but because photography continued to give them a way of participating in the world. They also shared that they had been called for a job interview and would soon be travelling again. After many months of disappointment and uncertainty, this felt like a small but meaningful step forward. Our conversation also returned to the difficult experiences many people face after receiving a diagnosis of schizophrenia. One participant reflected on losing employment after colleagues became aware of their illness. Another remembered how frightening it had been to experience panic while studying away from home, and how unsupported they had felt in that moment. These memories reminded us that, for many people, the greatest obstacles are not always the symptoms themselves, but the misunderstanding and stigma that continue to surround mental illness. Alongside these experiences, we also spoke about moments when care made a lasting difference. One member recalled a psychiatrist who, in a brief consultation, affirmed their ability to make their own decisions rather than allowing others to decide for them. Another shared that their psychiatrist had consistently encouraged them by saying, "You can do anything." Sometimes a few words of trust remain with us for years. Towards the end of the meeting, a seemingly ordinary question emerged: "Can we drive?" What followed was a surprisingly rich conversation. One person spoke about the extra care they needed while riding a motorcycle. Another described feeling disoriented while walking and the effort it sometimes took simply to move confidently through public spaces. I reflected on my own experience of driving carefully, at my own pace, and avoiding driving at night whenever possible. It struck me that recovery is often found in these ordinary negotiations with everyday life. Learning to drive. Walking through a crowded street. Travelling for a job interview. Taking photographs again. These may seem like small achievements to others, but they often represent enormous acts of courage. Before we finished, we also looked ahead. We spoke about adjusting future meeting times so more people from different countries could join. We discussed inviting guest speakers later in the year and imagined creating local "crisis buddies"—trusted people within our own cities who might one day offer companionship during particularly difficult times. These conversations reminded me that our support group is slowly becoming more than a weekly meeting. It is becoming a community that imagines new ways of caring for one another. As we closed, I found myself reflecting on how recovery is rarely about withdrawing from the world. Instead, perhaps it is about discovering a way of living in the world that honours both our sensitivity and our strength. One careful step at a time

---

← Back to Community