Schizo and Spillin' Tea

I Went on a Mental Health Sabbatical (aka Hid In My Room For A While)

Hey friends,

So, you may have noticed I disappeared for a little while, and I owe you a little bit of honesty.

Truth is I took a break for my mental health. Not the glamorous kind of break where you get to run off into the mountains and journal in your cool pants (I wish). More like the kind where brushing your teeth feels like a victory and you start having deep meaningful conversations with your pets. Freyja, my husky, says hi.

I didn’t plan to disappear. I didn’t schedule this on the calendar like, “Block off next week: complete existential unraveling.” But sometimes, your brain pulls the emergency brake. And mine did, hard.

Let me be clear: I’m okay. I’m not writing this from the bottom of a pit with a haunted doll collection. But I was struggling. Anxiety, burnout, the occasional existential dread spiral—it all piled up like Tupperware in a drawer you’re afraid to open. I knew I needed to step back, breathe, and remember how to be a human again.

And honestly? I think that’s okay.

We’re told to hustle, to show up no matter what, to post through the panic. But mental health doesn’t run on a content calendar. Sometimes self-care isn’t a bubble bath—it’s hitting pause. It’s saying “no” when your brain is screaming “we should be productive.” It’s lying on the floor for an hour and calling it “restorative yoga.” (Which, by the way, I highly recommend.)

So, this is my way of saying I’m sorry for going dark—and thank you for your patience. I didn’t ghost you. I just had to ghost everything for a minute, myself included.

If you’re someone who’s also dealing with mental health stuff, or has in the past, or knows someone who is (so… basically, everyone), I want you to know this: It’s okay to not be okay. It’s okay to take breaks. You don’t need to earn rest. You don’t have to explain your exhaustion. You’re allowed to just… be.

And if you’re not in that place right now—amazing. Soak it up. Ride the wave. And also, please send snacks.

Going forward, I’m easing back into posting, but doing it in a way that’s gentler. More honest. More aligned with how I’m actually doing, not how I think I’m supposed to appear online. Because I don’t want to build something that requires me to be superhuman to maintain it. I just want to build something real.

So, here I am—less polished, a little scruffier around the edges, but still me. And I’m really glad you’re here.

Thanks for sticking around. Thanks for reading. And if you’re struggling, too—know that you’re not alone. (Also: Freyja sends hugs.)

With love and slightly frazzled brainwaves,

Oliver ❤
Is It Ever Okay to Joke About Mental Illness? Let’s Talk Boundaries, Babe.
I’ve got mental illnesses – not a humor deficiency. I laugh, I share memes, I spiral into existential dread and still send reaction photos. So yes, I joke about mental illness. But here’s the thing: there’s a difference between laughing with us and using us as the punchline.

Let’s settle this once and for all: Is it ever okay to joke about mental illness?

Short answer: yes – if you’re NOT being a jerk about it.

Long answer: buckle up, we’re diving in.

Sometimes, laughter is how we survive. I have literally said, “Hold on, the voices in my head are too loud, I can’t hear you.” That’s not just comedy – that’s coping. If I can laugh about my own brain being on Hard Mode, then maybe I can survive another random Thursday.

Humor can be healing, but like meds, dosage and ingredients matter. A joke from someone living it? Probably relatable. A joke from Chad in accounting who thinks that being schizophrenic means having “multiple personalities”? He can go sit in a corner and think about how unfunny his joke was.

Who Gets the Mic?

Here’s the golden rule: If it’s not your reality, maybe don’t turn it into your punchline.
- If you’ve lived through it? Joke away, legend.
- If you’ve watched one Netflix documentary and now think you’re an expert on “crazy people”? Absolutely not.
Your trauma = your material. Someone else’s trauma = not your open mic night. Heard?

Stay silly,

Oliver ❤
Just Me, My Dog, and a Full Blown Hallucination in the Middle of the Sidewalk

Yesterday I thought I was doing something good for myself. Y’know – fresh air, movement, spring vibes. I leashed up my dog, told myself “You got this, princess,” and headed for a walk. Harmless, right?

Wrong. VERY wrong.

I was 30 minutes in, in the middle of the sidewalk, trying to figure out if the voices and footsteps behind me were real, or if my brain wanted to play “Paranoia Olympics”. Spoiler alert: it was my brain. Full send. Hallucinations activated.

My dog, the sweet baby angel she is, was just vibing. Sniffing dirt, trying to eat rocks, dog things. Meanwhile, I am trying not to scream because I am 99% sure the trees are talking to me and there’s someone watching me. (No one was there. I checked. Six times.)

Cue panic attack.

My heart was racing like I had just run from the cops (I had not), my chest was tight, I felt like I was holding my breath and the world started caving in on me. It felt like a weird dream with bad lighting, and I couldn’t make any noise. My dog looked up at me like, “Babe, are you good?” I was not. She sat down and refused to move, which honestly saved me from running in front of one of the cars coming down the street.

I had to call my fiancé to come pick me up because I couldn’t make it home. I made it back inside. Barely. Sat on the couch, cried a little. Pet my dog a lot. Told myself, “Okay, that was horrible, but it’s over now.” And it was. Kind of.

Here’s the thing — mental illness doesn’t give a heads-up. It doesn’t say, “Hey Oliver, just a quick FYI, we’re gonna make reality blurry today!” It just hits. And some days, it hits hard.

I’m sharing this not for pity — but for honesty. Because these moments happen. To me. To others. To people you wouldn’t expect. And if my sidewalk spiral helps someone else feel less alone in their own struggle? Worth it.

Also: shoutout to my dog for being the emotional support queen she is. She didn’t stop the hallucinations, but she did keep me from walking into a mailbox, which honestly is enough.

Until next time —
Trying not to hallucinate in public,
Oliver ❤
Am I Getting a Service Dog or a Therapist with Four Legs and a Wet Nose?

So… big news (and no, I’m not having another manic episode and spending all my money…yet). I might be getting a psychiatric service dog! That’s a professionally trained, four-legged mental health support machine who won’t judge me for crying in bed and watching The Lorax for the 6th time in a row.

Let’s be real: living with my diagnoses is like being a lead character in a show I know absolutely nothing about. Some days are good and other days, like today, are kind of rough. It’s like chaos with a soundtrack. And as much as I love (that’s a strong word) my meds and my therapist, I need a companion who knows when to interrupt my spiral with a nudge on the chest, some deep pressure therapy, and a look that says, “Breathe, baby.”

I’ve done extensive research. These dogs are like other service dogs on steroids tbh. Trained to help with grounding, panic attacks, paranoia and reminding me that no, the government isn’t spying on me through my toaster. Plus, they can’t ghost me, trauma dump, or ask to borrow money. Win-win.

But there is a catch. They are EXPENSIVE. Like… sell my kidney AND arm (possibly a leg as well) on eBay expensive. So I have been looking into grants and putting some applications out there, because being broke AND mentally ill is a personality combo now. If all goes well, I’ll have a dog who is more emotionally intelligent than half the people I have dated.

Will I pick a cute name? Obviously. Will I cry the first time they bring me back to reality? Duh. Will I post way too many photos of them looking noble and lifesaving while I look like a ragdoll mid-episode? Right again.

Anyways, cross your fingers, toes, meds, and anything else you want to cross that this grant comes through for me – because I have never needed a therapist with paws more than I do right now.

One paw closer to sanity,

Oliver ❤
Top 5 Mental Illnesses – Because Apparently, Brains Don’t Come with a Manual

Welcome to the human experience, where your brain is basically a high-powered computer… with a few viruses, some mysterious glitches, and a tendency to start buffering at the worst possible times. Mental illness? Oh yeah, it’s more common than socks without a matching pair. Let’s dive into the five most common ones — and try not to cry-laugh in the process.

1. Anxiety Disorders – AKA “What If…?” on Steroids

Anxiety is that overachieving friend who plans for everything — including your funeral after you accidentally send a typo in a work email. It’s like your brain hired a full-time worry consultant who never takes a day off.

Types include Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Panic Disorder, and Social Anxiety — which is basically when your brain screams “DANGER!” because you made eye contact with the barista.

Common symptoms: Sweating like you’re in a sauna, constant overthinking, and rehearsing small talk like it’s a Broadway audition.

2. Depression – The Sadness That Won’t Ghost You

Depression is like that one friend who comes over “just for a bit” and ends up staying all week, eating all your snacks, and telling you life is meaningless.

It’s not just “feeling sad.” It’s more like your get-up-and-go got up and went… permanently.

Common symptoms: Sleeping too much or not at all, feeling like a human paperweight, and losing interest in hobbies — even binge-watching shows (and that’s saying something).

3. Bipolar Disorder – Mood Swings, But Make It Extreme

Imagine emotional rollercoasters, but instead of fun, you’re going from “I AM THE SUN GOD” to “life is a void” in less time than it takes to microwave popcorn.

Bipolar comes in types, like a menu no one asked for: Bipolar I, Bipolar II, and Cyclothymia. Each comes with a lovely mix of highs (mania) and lows (depression).

Common symptoms: Spending sprees you can’t afford, starting 16 projects at once, then disappearing into your blanket fort for three weeks.

4. OCD – The Brain’s Favorite Game: Control Freak Olympics

Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder isn’t just being “soooo organized.” It’s intrusive thoughts you didn’t invite, paired with compulsions you wish you didn’t need — like washing your hands 47 times because of a rogue crumb.

It’s less “quirky” and more “if I don’t do this ritual exactly right, something catastrophic might happen (even though I know it won’t… but what if it does?)”

Common symptoms: Repetitive behaviors, constant checking, and mentally arguing with your own brain like it’s a troll in the comments section.

5. PTSD – Trauma’s Unwanted Afterparty

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder is like your brain’s version of opening 600 tabs and not knowing which one is playing that scary music.

It doesn’t just affect veterans — it can develop after any traumatic event, and your brain likes to replay it like it’s stuck in a psychological loop of “America’s Most Unwanted Memories.”

Common symptoms: Flashbacks, nightmares, hypervigilance, and jumping at loud noises like you’re in an action movie — without the movie star paycheck.

Stay sane(ish), stay weird, and remember — if your brain throws a party, at least you get to DJ.
– Oliver, currently Googling “how to evict anxiety with sage and sarcasm”
How to Support Your Mentally Ill Loved One Without Accidentally Making It Worse (We Know You Mean Well)

I heard you have a friend, partner, sibling, or your cousins roommate’s dog’s ex who is living with a mental illness, and you want to be supportive. First off – two gold stars for caring. Second – welcome to the crash course on how to be there for your mentally spicy loved one without turning yourself into a walking red flag on accident. Sit down and buckle up, it’s a little chaotic but we can make it work.

Stop Saying “Just Think Positive” Before We Cry

This one is a classic. Trust me, we love a good motivational quote from Pinterest, but telling someone with a mental illness to “just be happy” is like telling someone who’s having an asthma attack to “just breathe”. Bad idea. Zero stars for effectiveness.

Don’t Be Weird About Our Medication

Yes, we take meds. No, it’s not “a lot”. We need it to live. It is just the right cocktail of brain meds to keep us from spiraling to hell and back. Literally. Asking if we “really need all of that” is not the supportive energy we’re looking for. Also: no, you cannot have one of our Xanax “just to try.”

Ask Real Questions

You don’t need a degree in psychology to ask us if we’re okay. Be normal about it though. There is zero reason to ask, “Are you manic or is that just your personality?”. Instead, you can try asking, “Hey, how are you feeling today?” Works wonders.

Learn Our Red Flags, Not Just Our Favorite Snacks (Though Those Are Important Too)

Sometimes supporting us means noticing changes we might not catch ourselves. If we go from texting non-stop to radio silence, or start 12 new projects and dye our hair neon pink at 3 a.m., maybe check in. With love. And snacks.

Please Respect Our Boundaries, Even If They’re Weird

If we say we need space, 9 times out of 10, we mean it. We still love you – we are just in the middle of the biggest mental plot twist of the day and need time to process it. Or nap. Or both. Don’t take it personally, we aren’t mad at you. We are just vibing through an episode and trying our best to be okay.

At the end of the day, supporting someone with a mental illness isn’t about fixing them — it’s about being there. With kindness. With patience. With memes, tea, and a little understanding that sometimes, our brains take the scenic route.

So thank you for showing up. Even if you don’t always get it right, we see you trying — and that matters more than you know.

Still mentally ill, still spillin’ tea,
Oliver
Bipolar I with Psychotic Features: It’s Giving Main Character Energy (and a Little Chaos)

So, let’s talk Bipolar I with Psychotic Features. Doesn’t it sound so dramatic? Thats because it is. It’s like your brain wakes up one day and says, “Let’s do EVERYTHING – fast, loud, and kind of terrifying.”

For all the newbies, Bipolar I means I get full-blown manic episodes – not just a little boost of energy or a cleaning spree at 3am. I am talking about grand plans, not a single ounce of sleep, thinking you are God and completely immortal, and enough ideas to start 10 business (all at once, not a single good idea). It feels like a game of Subway Surfers in my head if I’m being honest, I am getting the highest score ever and then I run right into the back of the train. Now, throw in a little psychosis – BAM – now you’re really cooking. Suddenly I’m not just hyped, I am also convinced that aliens are trying to send me secret messages through street signs and my microwave, and that birds are just government made cameras that are watching my every move.

The wild thing? In that moment, it all makes perfect sense. You don’t think you’re in an episode – you’re just chilling REALLY hard. Then days or weeks later, once the meds are back in your system and you’ve slept more than an hour, you’re going to look around and wonder why your credit card is maxed out and there’s stickers plastered all over my room (maybe that’s just a me thing, who knows anymore).

Psychosis is like turning your imagination volume all the way up and then putting the remote in a blender. Sometimes it’s really scary, other times it’s poetic, or even oddly productive (like the time I almost created my own cult).

It’s not always chaos though. I have learned to live with it. I got some new medication, I’m learning coping skills, I have a solid therapist, and I am self-aware enough to tell myself, “This is a manic episode, I am not God, if I do this dangerous activity, I will die” sometimes. I can laugh at it, because if I don’t, I’m going to cry – and honestly, I have cried enough in the store aisles and restrooms.

Living with this disorder is exhausting, comedic, intense, and sometimes beautiful in the most twisted way. I AM NOT BROKEN. My brain is just using a different version of Windows Mental Health and it’s kind of glitch. But I can make it work.

So, if you’re reading this and you’ve been there – the highs, lows, the what-the-fuck-was-that moments – I see you. We might be a little unstable, but damn we are entertaining.

Sending stable-ish vibes,

Oliver ❤
Schizophrenia: It’s Not Just Hearing Voices, Karen

So, let’s talk about schizophrenia – the big, scary diagnosis that people think means I am out here having a full-on Fight Club moments in my head, or I am trying to summon a demon in my kitchen. Spoiler alert: it’s not that deep (most of the time).

Yes, I live with schizophrenia. No, I am not secretly plotting world domination or talking to my cabinets. Though if they did start talking to me, I would honestly just roll with it at this point. The truth is that this disorder is complex. It isn’t just hearing voices or seeing things that aren’t there – it’s also brain fog, emotional rollercoasters, trying to get around the paranoia, and constantly asking myself: “was that real, or did my brain throw in an extra feature without asking?”

Let me paint you a picture: imagine you’re trying to live your life, but your brain is running its own episode of Bad Girls Club without your permission. One minute, you’re having a great time. The next minute, your thoughts are doing the most Olympic-level gymnastics, and you’re trying your best to convince yourself that the Amazon delivery man is not a part of an intricate government conspiracy and he is NOT going to kidnap you. It’s a good time.

I am trying to learn to just laugh at it. Because if I don’t laugh, I’m going to spiral into a dramatic meltdown and end up in the hospital again. Sometimes my delusions are oddly creative. I swear some of the stuff they say, they could be opening for John Mulaney. And sometimes, the best way to cope is to acknowledge the chaos, make a funny blog, and move on.

Living with schizophrenia is a trip, but it’s MY trip. And I am learning to manage it with my medication, therapy, dark humor, and a lot of Dunkin Donuts refreshers. If you’re here because you’re struggling too – or you’re just curious – just know that you aren’t alone. We may be a little unhinged, but we are still worthy of love and definitely fun at parties.

Stay medicated and mildly delusional,

Oliver ❤
Welcome to Schizo and Spillin’ Tea!

Hey there, and welcome to my blog — where the thoughts are loud, the moods are unpredictable, and the tea is ALWAYS hot (sometimes it’s chamomile, sometimes it’s chaos).

I am Oliver, and I am navigating life with a few disorders, but two that are going to be mainly talked about on here is my bipolar disorder with psychotic features and schizophrenia. Two diagnoses that can be tough, weird, extremely confusing, and even super funny at times.

This blog is my little corner of the internet where I get real about mental health, share personal stories, and hopefully make you laugh, think, or even just feel a little less alone.

Let’s be honest: mental health is fucking hard, and messy. It’s not always inspirational quotes and deep breathing — sometimes it’s forgetting your meds, crying in the snack aisle at walmart, or talking to your pet like it’s your therapist. I am here to talk about it all, unfiltered. The highs, lows, the delusions, the recovery and the setbacks, and even the moments of clarity in between.

Whether you’re someone who lives with a diagnosis, loves someone who does, or you’re just curious about what it’s really like behind the scenes — you’re welcome here. This space is about honesty, humor, and healing. Because sometimes, the best way to deal with the hard stuff is to talk about it openly… and maybe even laugh a little while we do it.

So grab a mug, settle in, and let’s spill some tea — brain edition. 🫖🧠

Who Gets the Mic?

My favorite quotes: