When I was thirteen, my dream was to become a member of the Cleveland Orchestra Youth Orchestra. After countless hours of practice and a successful audition, I received my letter of acceptance.

When I arrived at Severance Hall for my first rehearsal, I saw the marble floors and pillars, and I entered a new world of people. I found new friends who were competitive musicians, just like me. Violin coaches instructed, encouraged and challenged us to become the best musicians we could be.

Ten years later, when I was diagnosed with schizophrenia, the stigma hit me hard, and I began to wonder how people would see me. I thought about friends I made through violin studies, my years at the university, and throughout my life. Many of these friends seemed to know very little about mental illness. (I’ll admit that, prior to developing schizophrenia, I didn’t know much either.) At times, I heard friends characterize the mentally ill as dangerous. I wondered if my entire social life would end. I realized that many of my relationships were at risk and could drastically change.

When I disclosed that I had a schizophrenia diagnosis and had fully recovered from severe mental illness on medication, I lost many friends. Many simple walked away. Some of these friends were people I deeply cared about. But on my journey to recovery, I have met many new kind and accepting people. I see many of these new and deepened relationships as a valuable gift.

People in the church where my family attended were the first to take the initiative and be kind, following my diagnosis. At that time, I had a lethargic and drugged appearance, and was not able to read well. These people looked past my appearance and past the stigma, making me feel I was no different from anyone else. They invited me to music concerts and lunches, museums, bike riding outings, and parties. To look at my face, it was obvious that schizophrenia was holding me back. But despite this, I knew the people in my life cared about me.

I was reluctant at first to cooperate with my doctor, but today, our relationship feels like a partnership to promote my mental health. After one year trying several ineffective medications, a physician arranged my trial of the medication clozapine, which led to my full recovery. As the hallucinations disappeared, he helped me make plans to rebuild my life and return to college. In college, I met other honor students who had overcome serious mental illness. This compassionate and forward-thinking psychiatrist attended my graduation.

I am grateful that from the time when I was diagnosed and throughout my recovery, my parents never gave up on me. Our relationship actually deepened.

Today, I enjoy connecting with other people with mental health diagnoses and their families via the internet, and many have become treasured friends. They are from all walks of life. Many are beautiful, artistic, and fun.

As I share the details of my life with other people who have struggled with mental illness (those who have recovered, and not yet recovered) and hear their stories, I find it amazing how much I learn. I used to think that people with schizophrenia were just “crazy,” as though they lost their personhood, because I bought into the stigma. When I was diagnosed with schizophrenia, I still felt like a normal person, the same person who once carried a violin into Severance Hall and performed in the orchestra. I have encountered other people with schizophrenia who feel this– despite the illness, deep inside, we are the same people we have always been.

I am grateful for these caring and thoughtful people in my life who chose to look deeper. People like this are everywhere. You just have to find them.