I was in college. I grew up in a fairly hellfire and brimstone type of environment. The Image of the Beast films were a considerable part of my childhood as a young christian. I went to christian school and finally met some 'normal' christians, it was nice. I got into psychology & theology, philosophy, early christian history it was a blast for a while. I kind of settled into it a bit, then I got news that my folks may divorce, I was also taking abnormal psych and research methods that semester.
I had a bit of med student syndrome for a while, and eventually a student counselor suggested I may have the early stages of schizophrenia. I was floored. I was falling apart, yeah, but it just hadn't occurred to me. I left on greased marble tears and hid in my dorm for a few days. A friend of mine heard me crying from the parking lot, and thought the idea was a bit off. I soon went back to the counseling office and spoke to a different counselor. She agreed that i was definitely having a bout of depression with some psychotic features but didn't see much reason to speculate further. Her quick dismissal felt cold, at the time, but I came to know her a bit more and realized she was actually really trying, quite hard actually, at keeping me in a safe place. She gave me the names of a few people I could talk to.

I always wished that the content of was different, that I could perseverate on something else, so that I could have parts of that life back, but it's like having certain colors always mean something, it's like being a pilot who doesn't like blue.