Archive for the ‘hallucinations’ Category

And………………relax.

January 14, 2009

Looks like my mood has stabilized again thank goodness. I slept through the day and woke feeling refreshed and calm for the first time in days. I did have a rather strange dream though, which featured an old therapist, some ex friends and a large shopping centre! I argued with everyone, became violent and was dragged off by the police. A very strange dream, but it looks like I worked all the anger out in it because none spilled over into waking hours.

I received a letter from the pct today, asking me to take part in some research into bpd and psychotic symptoms. Naturally it has made me reflect on the last year, in particular the strange thoughts and voices I was experiencing in Summer. I’m in two minds as to whether I should participate in the research. Am I really psychotic? The seroquel has removed whatever symptoms I had and with hindsight I wonder if they were just the product of an over active imagination. They do seem very distant. I do definately experience paranoia when I’m stressed and perhaps I then imagine weird and wonderful things which become true. Shadows in mirrors etc. Are the voices I hear just my low self esteem talking to me? I guess that at the basis of these thoughts is the fact that I feel like a fake. A wannabee patient who receives extra attention for those extra symptoms? But then I do vaguely remember the mocking voice which followed me round for weeks, telling me I was deformed, or that I was going to be arrested. I did hear it. But I always knew deep down that it was just my insecurities voicing themselves. It’s been a while since I’ve had any of the visual hallucinations and I’m so happy about that. Again though, I think they were more the release of angry feelings than actual psychosis. I just don’t like that word. Psychosis. When I read my medical notes they said ”no sign of mental illness” so why hadn’t the symptoms been picked up on over the years? I suppose because I kept quiet about them, fearful of a schizophrenia diagnosis. But surely someone would have noticed if they were real?

Arrgghhh I hate this self doubt. I wish doctors could just see inside our brains and tell us what was wrong, because I sure as hell don’t know.

Anyway, today I am calm and relaxed and happy. I’ll enjoy this current mood and try not to tie myself up in knots with something I can’t solve.

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Hallucinations or angry feelings?

September 17, 2008

Yesterday a woman walked past me at Starbucks and threw her baby off the mezzanine onto the floor below.

Well that’s what I saw. Until I blinked and saw her continue on past me, with the baby safe in her arms.  For a split second I felt horrified at what I’d seen, but have to admit to a nagging wish that it had been true, rather than my mind playing dirty tricks on me again.

I’ve pushed people over, stabbed pensioners in the queue in front of me at the check out, punched my father in the face, seen passing cars explode into flames. Just split second glimpses of what feels almost like a parallel world, where my anger and aggression has real consequences on those around me.

I’ve never physically hurt anyone other than myself. A lot of the cutting is to do with my guilt at these images. They’ve been part of my life for so long, since early childhood, that they are almost normal to me now. I brush them away fairly easily when they are of strangers, but the frequent thoughts and visions of killing people close to me disturbs me. I feel like I’m keeping a secret from them. Don’t they realise they have a monster in their midst?

There are different types of hallucinations too. Some seem to appear from nowhere, at a time when I don’t feel particularly stressed. Others I can very easily link to feelings of frustration or anger at those around me. I have tons of horrible thoughts about people too. And voices / thoughts out loud in my head, saying bad things about them or me.

I guess the difference between myself and someone with real hallucinations is that after that split second, I know they are my imagination. But that doesn’t make them any less unpleasant.

Sometimes I feel like I’m just a tiny step away from losing my grip on reality. It would be so easy just to give into it and lose the responsibility of being well. I wish I’d been born decades earlier and could have spent my life in an institution, safe away from everyone. No need to put on this pretence of being normal. Is that just the bpd talking? I hate being so confused about who I am and what I feel. I see the pdoc tomorrow and don’t know how to explain this to her. When I asked for the referral I was agitated and hyper. This week I’ve been depressed. Previously I was detached. Now I’m anxious. I seem to go from one state of mind to another so quickly and as each one passes I discount it as a period of self indulgence.

Today I have a huge urge to self harm. However, I know that it’s down to the upcoming meeting and I am determined not to succumb to these feelings. So much is riding on this appointment. I’ve been stupid to build my hopes up like this. I’ll go in there and be all passive as usual, overawed by her authority, and agreeing with everything she sais. I won’t tell her about the visions or the voices. I never do. I need to make her understand how much I’m struggling on a day to day basis without her over reacting and not letting me leave the hospital. I can’t be sick right now. Dad needs me too much. I just need something to get me past the next few months whilst he has his op and recovers or dies. Whichever comes first.

Time to start building the ark

September 6, 2008

Will this rain never end? It’s hard enough to motivate myself off the settee without having to face the thought of finding my brolly too. I hate this sort of rain. The type which makes you wet, as Peter Kay would say. It’s definately not just spitting. On the plus side I can hide under my hoodie without receiving weird looks from passers by.

I often wonder how I am perceived when I go outside. You know how it is when you’re out. You walk past that person who looks a little off. Maybe it’s their slightly weird clothing (T-shirts in december etc) or the vacant smile on their face. It’s the person who catches your eye on the bus then spends the entire journey talking to you about their carer, or the woman at the bus stop who laughs out loud to herself every few seconds.

I’ve always made an effort with people like that because I know what it’s like to feel different. I make a good job of hiding my anxiety so you would never know, as you stand next to me, that I am counting to 100 over and over in my head before the bus comes, knowing that I can’t board the bus if I haven’t completed my count. You have no idea that seconds ago I saw you stab me, or that the car opposite us blew up, or that I killed everyone in the shopping centre with my newly bought Uzi. I can be stood in the queue at M&S and those visions flash before me. It’s like having my own personal cinema, except that I don’t get to choose the film and never get past the trailers.

They don’t scare me anymore. Hallucinations, if thats what they are, have been with me since childhood. Sometimes I quite enjoy them because they are mine and mine alone. As though I’m tuned into a secret channel which no one else can see.  The voices are much rarer and I hate them. They are accusatory and mocking. They don’t always talk to me, but often I hear them talking about me. Telling people I have died, or that I have been sent to prison, or that something horrible has happened to my face. I have to check my reflection in the shop window to make sure I’m not disfigured. I’ve always kept them secret from my doctor. I’m not sure why. Perhaps because I’m scared to be given the psychotic label.

But I’m straying off the point here. Going outside. That was it. Lately I feel that people have changed towards me. I receive sympathetic smiles a lot. Especially from older people on the bus. I make a passing comment to the person next to me and they look away without responding. The driver doesn’t look surprised when I show him my disabled travel card anymore. Have I become one of those weird people you see on the street? Is my mask finally slipping? And do I care? There’s a certain freedom to being weird after all. Richard, our local schizophrenic, talks out loud to himself as he strides down the street, usually wearing pyjamas. Everyone is used to him now but occasionally he gives a stranger a fright by giving the minutes of his last psychiatric consultation to them as he stands in the queue in the paper shop. I know Richard quite well from when I volunteered at our Mind shop. He confessed to me once that he occasionally talks out loud even when he’s feeling stable, just because everyone expects it now and it allows him to insult them and get away with it. Good for him. I’m still too shackled by the fear of public humiliation to be able to act so freely.

Sometimes I’d love to just be completely mad!

In the meantime I’m off to buy another hoodie. xx