Stories never really appealed to me as a child, my mind was always the more magical and attractive fairground. But it wasn't until my mid twenties when my mind would really take control of my reality and the stories I once knew and loved would become all I knew.
It was 2019 and my drug dealing neighbours were stalking me. They had been disguising themselves and following me around my hometown, wherever I went. They were breaking into myhouse and stealing random belongings of mine on a frequent basis. I had contacted the police, they would eventually put this down as stalking due to the volume of distressed calls I made but there would be no further action. I wasn't just distressed, I was absolutely terrified. I confided in a small group at the beginning but as this torturous couple would chase me and shout at me down the street it was hard to keep my fears to myself.
As my reality churned, my presentation deteriorated. I stopped eating because I believed my food was poisoned or swapped and the sheer stench coming from the fridge of horrifying. It just shows how psychosis messes with each of your senses so deeply because I could smell each and every food note, even from within its packaging.
Psychosis is literally like your on a really bad trip for a really long time. It's so scary unless you experience it you could never understand and if you see it first hand you can only imagine what the psychotic individual is going through deep within.
At points I even stopped washing because I believed I was getting drugged through the water in the shower, and the times I did wash I believed - with certainty - that the shower was hacked, and there were cameras in there. I believed there were cameras in the whole house, watching me wherever I went. As soon as the voices started, it was like I was on The Truman Show. I didn't think I could get any more sick, but then I did.
I knew the Queen of England and Prince Phillip too. I was going on escapades with Phillip in the jungle. Meeting monkeys and tigers, climbing trees. I felt so free yet in reality I was the exact opposite. I wasn't leaving the house at all and I had lost contact with people who I used to know. I didn't have time to think about day to day things like eating, drinking, socialising or attending to appointments because I was forging royal scrolls from thin air and reading ancient text from the paving slabs of my back garden. I thought I was decoding something in order to become a Queen myself. It was all so thrilling to me. I felt I was finally living up to my potential and nobody could stop me.
My bedroom became my sanctuary where I really could get into my visions, uninterrupted, mostly. Here is where I would wait for my call up to be Wonder Woman, truly believing it would happen. Believing that I would get that knock on the door. My mind was going as fast as the speed of light and I was keeping up, but as fast as I was keeping up I was quickly moving onto the next script. Here is where I would plan my wedding to a field of footballers, intrinsically and meticulously. With harps and pianos, I was creating sheets of music out of the air and it was just fascinating. Then out of nowhere, Lionel Messi proposed to me in the sky and the build up of it all came down and the glass shattered me in real time. In this room I even sent my stalkers to a Russian prison and agreed to press Kim Jong-un's nuke button should they try and escape. It was all so real. But only to me. That is why those memories are so precious and tender.
I went back to my childhood but in a different era. I was a maniac child, and was in Nazi Germany with my mother who was also living on the edge. We would fly helicopters over the camps and "lift spirits up" as we built Pizza Huts and MacDonalds etc. across the land. I came intro contact with my old next door neighbour who used to look after me and my brother when we were really little. We would watch Tom and Jerry together and that's what we did in my mind. However, all of the episodes were about war and terrorism and bombings.
I could go on and on about my hallucinations and delusions and how I was under the sea with all the fishies and the mermaids and the colours were beautiful and intense and amazing, out of this world. I was sectioned four times in eighteen months, living with pyschosis for two years so have lots of stories but whenever I talk about it I seem to scare people and make them uncomfortable.
On my last hospitalization I thought there were army studies going on inside the hospital and my life was being threaten there. My psychosis got so bad I wanted to disown my family and friends and move to Saudi Arabia. I refused to leave hospital until I got to go there. This was because I truly believed my mother was a murderer and had buried bodies in our back garden.
So much has gone on and I think people think that I have forgotten about - but I can't and I won't. I need to process what happened to me somehow and it's hard doing it alone.
Even though I am in recovery from psychosis and am what the doctors class as "well", life has seemed so jaded and I don't feel like I can do anything like I did before. Everyday and everything feels like a new challenge.
Before I experience psychosis I had a long term partner, a caring group of friends, a decent job, hobbies and interests I enjoyed, a lovely home, a supportive family and the most loving dog. All in all, I didn't have much to worry about.
Since having psychosis most of that has been stripped away from me. Me and my partner split, most of my old friends don't speak to me anymore and if/when they do it's like pulling teeth or usually to satisfy their needs, I lost my job due to poor mental health, I was even made homeless a couple times during my psychosis which made me feel like my world was imploding. Luckily I had a good support network so I didn't go without a place to stay, but knowing that you are too much for your own family is one thing and also knowing that things could have been alot worse if a friend hadn't of stepped in is another. It still breaks my heart and is difficult to comprehend today.
I know I was out of control, but it wasn't my fault. I was put on ADHD medication when I had Bipolar aswell. That sent me into a spin and even though the doctors took me off the ADHD meds during my first hospital stint, the amphetamine had already taken control of my brain and the effects were long lasting.
Despite having so much viciously taken away from me, I still feel I have a lot to live for. I know recovery is possible. This time two years ago I didn't know if I would make it home for Christmas. Now I'm about to put my Christmas decorations up with my mother. I have come full circle.
Recovery is not linear. You will have good days and bad days, but as long as you find a life that works for you then that's a life worth living. Just remember that the comeback is always stronger than the setback, so be prepared to leave behind the life you lived pre-psychosis. Bigger things are coming, just wait and see. #Psychosis #MentalHealth