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.