Hearing voices

Those who don't hear voices might consider the experience frightening, or as evidence of madness. Some people associate it with religious zealotry or even criminality. However, my experience of hearing voices ranges from being ordinary and everyday, to being something of an ordeal.

The author Jeanette Winterson reminds us that in the past, voices were seen as respectable and desired. In her book 'Why be happy when you could be normal?,' she describes voice hearing as a phenomenon experienced by "the visionary, the prophet, the shaman and the wise-woman. And the poet, obviously." Others see voice hearing as a creative and ingenious survival strategy, a meaningful experience to be explored.

Long before I started hearing voices, I heard my own thoughts in audible form. I was shocked as a child when I discovered that not everybody hears their own thoughts. I wonder to this day what it might be like to have a quiet mind, since mine is often chaotic and messy, with thoughts being so simultaneous that I'm assaulted by a cacophony of noise. That's why regular peace and quiet is so important to me.

My experience of voice hearing is different to my audible thoughts. "Voices" sound as though somebody is standing by my side, speaking to me. I know that if I can't see anybody there, the voice is coming from inside my head. I can then choose to ignore the voice or take notice of it if it's telling me something useful! Voice hearing isn't always unpleasant you see; sometimes the voices are helpful, for example, reminding me of important things I need to do or think about. Occasionally my voices are humorous.

I recognise a range of different voices, but every so often an unfamiliar one joins the crowd. I usually hear the voices one at a time, but during periods of extreme stress, I hear multiple voices, sometimes talking between themselves or competing with one another for attention.

Sometimes, the tone of the voices changes from neutral to negative and they become hostile and critical. Occasionally the voices take on a sinister tone, urging me to take action which would be harmful. Music through headphones helps, as does distraction, but in rare cases, when the voices are commanding, I'm at risk of acting upon what they tell me to do. This is when I choose to take medication. The medication quietens things down but it does so at a significant cost. My intellect is dulled. I lose my sparkle, I'm sleepy and I gain weight. Life seems to slow right down; I sleep, eat and move only when necessary. Life simply becomes a long, slow pause and there are times when even breathing becomes a conscious task. Thankfully, for most of the time, the voices and I coexist peacefully and I've managed without the need for medication.

Overall, I don't consider voice hearing and hearing my own thoughts as a blessing, nor do I see it as a curse. It simply is. It's part of who I am; as much a part of me as breathing in and out. 

 

Another absence explained

Once again, I'm starting a blog post with apologies for leaving it so long since I wrote. Once you read why, I think you'll understand.

Back in June, I made two attempts on my own life. I won't go into detail here, except to say I was hearing voices at the time, urging me to take extreme risks with my health. Fortunately on both occasions, I told somebody what I'd done and was persuaded to get medical attention. After the second attempt, I spent three weeks on an acute psychiatric ward. This was a difficult experience for me, for a host of reasons; particularly the lack of privacy, since initially I was being observed every 15 minutes.

Despite the difficulties I had in adjusting to hospital life, it was made more bearable by lovely visits from family and friends, some fantastic staff and some amazing fellow patients. I was well looked after, on the whole.

I'm now on medication but more significantly (for me personally), my weekly psychotherapy sessions have started again, so I can work on those inner demons.

My only wish is that I'd reached out and got help before I got to where I did. I was in such a place where I felt I couldn't talk to anyone about how I was feeling, neither loved ones nor, say, Samaritans. I can only hope that if I ever, ever feel that way again (which I hope I don't, obviously), I'll ask for help. I've spoken before about not being embarrassed to discuss our mental health, so it's time I took my own advice. Don't be shy, speak out.

Best wishes to all, thanks for reading.

Oneirataxia

Oneirataxia - the inability to distinguish between dreams and reality.

Someone asked me the other day, "what's it like to have psychosis?" I was momentarily stumped. The thing is, my psychotic experiences surely won't be the same as anyone else's. They might fall into the same broad categories - hallucinations, unusual beliefs, voice hearing, but the actual content will be unique because it's coming from inside my head. (Let's not muddy the waters by saying I don't necessarily realise it's coming from inside my head at the time...!)

The best way I can describe my psychotic experiences is to say they're a bit like dreaming, only I'm awake. Things can appear quite ordinary, until all of a sudden, they don't. I can be walking down my road and see someone lying on the pavement. I raise my foot to step over them but they disappear (making me look a bit odd). My kettle once sprouted wings. My shower spewed out worms. Some of the things I see and hear are extremely disturbing - I won't write about them in detail here but they often involve death and decay. Other times, they're quite mundane (the dog which appeared and promptly disappeared). Many of my experiences are visual, but sometimes it can be a smell - usually a bad one. Occasionally I hear voices. Sometimes they're indistinct and far away, as though next door have got their radio on. Other times they're as clear as if someone is standing right next to me, talking straight into my ear hole. They say all kinds of things, from the mundane to the terrifying. Sometimes they speak in languages I don't understand and can't even identify.

Personally, I see my own psychotic experiences as part of an extreme stress response, but whilst I accept they're part of the wealth of human experience, to me they're often unwelcome and intrusive. That's why, right now, I choose to take medication to help with these symptoms. That's my informed choice, for now, though I respect the rights of others to choose something different. One thing's for sure - it's quite an experience.

A to Z?

I thought I was doing pretty well, recovery wise. Actually, I take that back, I WAS doing well with my recovery. And then...

I started feeling as though someone was following me. There was a dark shadow at my shoulder, which disappeared whenever I turned around. Then the voices started. Sometimes a mundane kind of commentary, "she's making a cup of tea," sometimes hostile "fat bitch, you need to lose some weight." Or worse.

I started seeing the world through a kaleidoscope of colour. Shifting shapes before my eyes, changing shade rapidly. Then I noticed a smell. A bad smell, rotting, like bins left out in the hot sun. It followed me around, so I reasoned I myself must be the source of the smell. I started bathing and showering multiple times during the day, changing my clothes. Nothing would shift the stench. I had butterflies in my stomach almost permanently. I began to believe I was host to a colony of parasitic worms and that I was rotting from the inside. I could feel them shifting around under the skin of my abdomen -  that was the source of the butterflies in my stomach. I borrowed my husband's electric drill and told him I was going to drill a hole in my stomach to get the worms out. Luckily for me, he relieved me of the drill, put it in the shed and hid the key. I was quickly taken on  by the home treatment team.

I began to believe that if I took all my medication at once, I'd be well again. I had quite a stash - anti psychotics, anti depressants, mood stabilisers, diazepam and zopiclone. A cocktail of almost- certain demise if taken all at once. I casually mentioned my plan to the CPN from the home treatment team. I had no reservations about sharing my plan because I thought it the most logical solution in the world. He made arrangements for my medication to be dispensed daily, so I didn't have so many meds at my disposal.

The psychiatrist changed the dose of my anti psychotic and recommended I continue to be seen by the home treatment team. And that's where I am right now, battling with the interface between reality and unreality and trying to challenge unusual beliefs with logic and 'common sense.'

I realise that recovery isn't a linear process, A to Z in simple steps. The way I see this is I've wandered down a blind alley by mistake and have to work out how to get out of it. A diversion, if you like. I'm really looking forward to getting back onto the road.

Post Christmas blues

It's been a while since I updated my blog and I thought it was about time I wrote something.

Things haven't been good for me recently. On the positive side, I enjoyed a family holiday to Cumbria over Christmas. On the negative, it was whilst I was away that my mental health collapsed again. I'm attending day hospital at the moment because I'm not well enough to be alone at home. It's more manageable than being a psychiatric inpatient but it's still pretty intense and has caused some disruption to family life and our usual routine. We're coping with help from family, mainly in relation to the boys. I'm grateful to them for stepping in, even though I feel guilty that I'm not well enough to do much parenting.

Life isn't much fun for me at the moment but I'm hoping things will improve as we head towards the spring. Going back to work is a long way off, both in terms of time (I'm not due back until September) but also in relation to how well I am. I'm looking forward to being well enough to think again though.

It's a funny thing, mental health. When you're in a good place with it, you sort of take it for granted and expect it to continue serving you well. When you're in a bad place with it, you'd give anything to feel as 'good' as you felt on your bad days when you were well!

I'm feeling optimistic today. Being at hospital is definitely helping. The nurses are lovely and I'm impressed by the way the mental health team have put together a package of support for me. They phone me when I'm at home to check that I'm ok and coping. I think I'll be there another fortnight or so, then discharged to the community team. I haven't been around much on social media so I'll take this opportunity to wish you all a happy new year! Xxxxx