Jonathan Clemente

Overcoming Schizophrenia: Jonathan Clemente

Read the condensed version on page two of our Newsletter.

I was born on the west side of Cleveland, Ohio, in 1981.  My father was a healthcare worker who immigrated to the United States from South America, and my parents met while working together at a hospital in Boston.  They went on to raise five children, of which I am the fourth, with three other brothers and a sister.  As a child, I have many fond memories of us celebrating birthdays, riding bikes, playing video games, and enjoying back yard football with the other kids in the neighborhood.  We almost always ate dinner together as a family, and my parents worked hard to ensure that our needs were met and that we were loved.

As a child, I generally enjoyed going to school and felt a pull in my classes towards science, art, and religion.  As practicing Catholics, we went to church every week, and I felt inspired by the spirituality of our church.  Around this age, I also looked up to my uncle who was an artist and I imagined myself becoming either an artist or a priest.  However, at about the age of twelve, I began to struggle with complex emotions that were difficult to process and I felt socially marginalized from my peers.  There were times where I questioned my Latinx identity and felt discrimination from my peer group for my ethnicity.  Feelings of being apart gained momentum and despite the integrity of our family, life sometimes seemed burdensome.  Around this age I remember having childish thoughts of self-harm, such as a plan to hold my breath until I passed out.

During my childhood and adolescence, I generally performed well academically. While a sophomore in high school, I speculated that I might apply to top-notch schools such as Notre Dame or Boston College.  However, around the age of sixteen, because I felt socially isolated and desired to be a part of the popular crowd, I began to experiment with drugs and alcohol.   Looking for social acceptance, I indulged in a variety of substances including alcohol, hallucinogens, ecstasy, and cannabis.  In hindsight, I often wonder whether the development of my mental disorder may have partly resulted from my experimentation with these substances.

Despite serving as a social lubricant, the use of substances came with negative consequences.  For example, I found it challenging to maintain my previous level of excellence in my academic studies and dropped my AP and honors classes.  During these years of late adolescence, I engaged in risky behaviors such as selling drugs, driving under the influence, and being in cars with other drunk drivers.  During my senior year, I began to have thoughts of ending my life, but I wasn’t sure who to talk to about it with.

In 1999, following my high school graduation, I left Cleveland to attend Skidmore College in Saratoga Springs, New York.  At that time I planned to pursue a career in psychology and considered becoming a psychiatrist.  Here, I also hoped to take advantage of the well-respected art department on campus, explore the extensive outdoor hiking trails, and distance myself from my Midwest roots.  During my first semester at Skidmore, I tried to limit my substance use to mostly weekends, and did well in my classes.   However, within a short time, I found it difficult to make friends without the social crutch of alcohol and returned to my old pattern of indulgence.  My GPA soon fell significantly.  During this time, I can recall moments where I felt as though I had blown a fuse in my brain.  Thoughts of paranoia and feeling that the world was turning on me also began to surface.

My professors observed something was awry and expressed their trepidations.  Soon I began seeing a college counselor who started me on an antidepressant, but my substance use nullified its potential effect.  My increasing incidents of antisocial behavior while under the influence unsettled my conscience.  After the first semester of my sophomore year, I left Skidmore College to return to Cleveland, seeking the security of my parents’ home.  In the year of 2001, I enrolled as a commuter at the Cleveland Institute of Art, which offered a five-year undergraduate program in the visual arts.

At the Cleveland Institute of Art, I began again to see a new counselor who expressed her concern about my pattern of substance use.  She facilitated therapy groups where I met with other students with similar struggles.  However, reluctant to change my habits, I went on a series of alcoholic benders.  In the fall of 2003, during my fourth year at the Cleveland Institute of Art, I behaved recklessly while intoxicated, leading to adverse events within my life.  Within a short period of time, I managed to disturb the peace of the student body at the Cleveland Institute of Art, and it was only the mercy of my peers that kept me from legal charges.  I was also fired from a job I had held for inappropriate conduct while intoxicated.

After these periods of heavy bingeing, my first psychotic hallucinations and delusions began.  For example, my mind told me that I had been on the evening news for my misconduct, and I feared pending legal action against me for my behaviors while under the influence.  In one class, I remember struggling to differentiate whether I was hearing voices in my head or if students were actively gossiping about me.  With the resultant chaos, the consequences of my substance use finally began to set in, and I began to realize that if I did not quit drinking and drugging both my mental stability and my future would be in jeopardy.

While riding home from a binge episode in December of 2003, I began to feel the pangs of whatever moral compass I still had intact.  The rich spiritual integrity my parents had instilled within me as a young person began to prompt my conscience.   An awareness that my reckless choices had wasted their sacrifices rattled my inner spirit.  At this moment, I experienced authentic shame for the way I had been living my life, and I desired to make a change.  After this metanoia, I called one of my friends who had been treated for alcoholism and asked him for help.  Today, I look back on the date of December 14, 2003, as my sobriety date.  Since this date, one day at a time, I have yet to use alcohol or drugs.

Shortly thereafter I began an intensive outpatient treatment program for chemical dependency.  I also began to work with a psychiatrist and therapist.  Through the work of my 12 step sponsor and my parish priest I became inspired to be active again in the Catholic Church.  While many blessings have come about as the result of my sobriety, today I concede to the reality that putting the bottle down was just the beginning of my recovery, and that a more important demonstration lies in the choices I make with each new day.

In 2005, I graduated from the Cleveland Institute of Art.  Despite having a college diploma, I was forced to recognize that I had neglected the development of practical job skills during my education.  With this, the stress of confronting a challenging job market peaked my anxiety and, I was briefly hospitalized for suicidal thoughts.  While at the hospital, I was encouraged to take an antidepressant, which I stayed on for the next four years.  During this time, I worked different entry level jobs, everything from waiting tables, to printing, to customer service.  Inspired by a God of my understanding and the implementation of the 12 steps, I worked through cravings and prevented a reversion back to active alcoholism.  With the help of my mental health team, I was able to overcome what were, at that time, a pattern of suicidal thoughts.  I also continued working with a psychiatrist until 2009.

During the next few years, I decided to return to school with the hope that math and science classes would be easier, since I was sober.  As I considered different career paths and despite performing well in most of my classes, I struggled to make a resolute decision about what direction to take with my studies.  My indecision came to a head while preparing for one of my final exams.  Challenged by the increase in stress over the demands of my coursework, I began to believe that God was communicating with me through license plate numbers on the back of motor vehicles.  In this, I imagined the license plate numbers giving me suggestions for how many hours I needed to study or mnemonic clues on how to succeed on the prospective exam.  My erratic thoughts also discouraged me from eating regular meals, and I was crippled with ambivalence even over simple choices.  My parents became concerned with my behavior and requested that I again seek the care of a psychiatrist.

In 2011, I met with this new psychiatrist who formally diagnosed me as having a psychotic disorder.  He started me on a slew of different antipsychotics, but I had intolerable side effects on almost all of them.  Some of the meds made me unbearably tired to the point where I almost fell asleep behind the wheel.  On another one, my muscles locked up in a severely rigid fashion, inhibiting my motion, and I became disoriented.  Eventually, I adhered to an antipsychotic which seemed to be the most effective medication with the least side effects.  However, this medication still gave me tremors, and I did not feel quite like myself on it.  Despite everything I had lived through at that time, I was still convinced that I did not have a psychotic disorder, and I also resented the idea of being dependent on psychotropic medicine.  To complicate things, internally I erroneously believed that taking the psych meds somehow conflicted with my sobriety from drugs and alcohol.  Despite my lack of insight into my mental illness, I regained my ability to concentrate and focus while on the antipsychotic.  For this reason, I was able to begin graduate work at Case Western Reserve University.

In 2012, about a year into this latest course of treatment, I approached my doctor with a request to discontinue the antipsychotic, which I still firmly believed I did not need. While my psychiatrist was opposed to the idea, he eventually consented to appease me.  However, when I abstained from the antipsychotic, my ability to concentrate diminished again, and I became unable to continue my graduate coursework.  Then I withdrew from my classes and slowly distanced myself further from the psychiatrist.  For the next five years, I worked in a print shop as an assistant.  Eventually, I worked up to being offered a position at the shop as the lead graphic artist.  While I truly enjoyed the opportunity to create original print art, without any medication to support me, I began to again have psychotic symptoms.

Finally in 2017, having been off all of my antipsychotic medication for five years, I had a full-blown psychotic episode.  I believed that my boss had put tracking devices underneath my car, and I thought I had supernatural abilities.  For example, I imagined I could hear conversations through walls and somehow neurologically intercept communication signals over the internet.  My delusions became so pronounced that I imagined my loving father actually had ties to the mafia.  In my paranoid state, I was convinced that he had been responsible for different murders in the community and that he actually had plans to murder me as well.  Under the pressure of my delusions, I professed these paranoid thoughts to certain members of the local community, telling them that my father was responsible for the death of a young girl whose murder mystery had plagued the town.  Shortly thereafter, the police intervened, and I was transported by EMS to a nearby emergency room.  I was then transferred to a psychiatric ward for my longest hospitalization, two and a half weeks.

Following my discharge, I consented to follow the advice of my doctor and my parents to travel to Hopewell Therapeutic Farm, in Middlefield, Ohio, a residential treatment center for people with serious mental illness.  I stayed there for the next ten months.  The farm was a godsend and a light amidst a period of darkness.  The staff and residents offered me insight into my condition as well as a spirit of warmth and compassion.  During my stay, I resumed medication trials and was able to discover a series of medications with a lower side effect profile.  My treatment team at Hopewell also helped me to search for suitable employment in light of my disability.

During my employment search, I applied for different positions and struggled to find my niche.  Finally I came upon a job posting within Catholic Charities who listed having a mental or substance use disorder as one of the desired qualifications for employment.  Reading these qualifications, immediately I thought to myself “that’s me!”  I interviewed for the position and in the interview openly shared about my psychotic episode.  They decided to hire me and within a few months I became certified by the state of Ohio to serve as a Peer Support Specialist.

Focusing on Catholic Charities FIRST Episode Psychosis program, I now work with young people who have recently had an episode of psychosis, and I serve as a mentor to advance their recovery goals.   Together, we collaborate to rebuild their lives by fostering independence and advancing personal goals.  Since recovering from my last episode, I have enjoyed a busy and stable life as a Peer Support Specialist.  In 2019, I also began consulting work with Northeast Ohio Medical University (NEOMED) and here I utilize my lived experience in recovery to advise mental health teams throughout the state of Ohio on the best treatment practices for people living with schizophrenia and other psychosis-related conditions.  In my spare time, I also work as a freelance artist.

Today, I recognize that the recklessness I have exhibited in my life has done significant damage to my community and those who love me.  Though I respect that my mental and substance use disorders have influenced my decision making, today I strive to accept full responsibility for all my actions, make amends where appropriate, and give back to those in need.  For the last twenty years, I have abstained from the use of any drugs or alcohol.  I am still heavily involved in 12 step groups and continue to enjoy being an active member of the Catholic Church.  My faith is one of the principle sources of strength that has encouraged me throughout the challenges of my mental health journey.  I am blessed to also have a supportive network of family and friends.

In 2022, I was awarded the Scott Adamson Memorial Peer Award from the Greater Cleveland Chapter of the National Alliance for Mental Illness.  This honor was bestowed upon me in recognition for my outstanding efforts to share my lived experience with psychosis to help others discover their own path to recovery.  For the last two years, I have been in a serious romantic relationship and married this past May of 2024.  We look forward to spending our lives together.  Later this year, I plan to visit Hopewell Therapeutic Farm, this time as a guest artist to help residents develop their creative talents and better learn art as a medium of personal expression.  I am very grateful to the many individuals who have extended their hand of help to me along my journey.  In the future, I aspire to continue living my best life advocating for those affected by psychosis and sharing hope to the reality that we can and do recover.