Hearing Stuff That Isn't Real and Hospitalization

I find it interesting when people ask me what it's like hearing voices.  Do they talk to me, tell me to do things, etc.?  I find myself wanting to take back what I said and run to a safe place but it's already out there - exposed and vulnerable. Now, it's time to answer the question so some people aren't afraid (mainly, me).

No, the voices I hear are not commanding.  They never tell me to do any harm to anything or anybody.  The first time I hear something is the warning bell that I have to see my psychiatrist right away.

What I hear and the order it arrives is very important.  The more I have to contend with, the more difficult it is to manage.  Consequently, it leads to an episode which lands me in the hospital.  Therefore, emergency to get in to see my psychiatrist.  I forgot to tell him at our last visit the previous week.
WRITE IT DOWN!!

This is the order of what I heard in the last month prior to hospitalization:

1. A low radio interview with only words I cannot make out outside my body.
2. Loud megaphone voices inside my head.
3. Bad music.  Bad 60's and 70's no words.
4. Some eerie music but the notes are strung out long.
5. One gospel note.  I know it's gospel because of the image in my head.
6. Rap music
7. A loud shout:  "YOU WERE ABUSED!!"  (tell me something I don't know)

Most of the music continued when I was hospitalized.  Almost beat up a patient because I thought she said something to me.  Turns out it was my voices.  The next morning I initiated an apology, she apologized, too.  I asked if she said the sentence I heard then explained why I was there.  She was sympathetic and said she has a bad habit of overreacting.  

8th day of new medication 

5th day dosage increase

1st day with no voices (when hearing them for a month)

Isn't God good?  You bet He is!!

Grateful for a second chance at documenting my stuff better. Enjoy!

For My Psychiatrist

On Sunday
Scrambled eggs for a brain.
Voices faint and out of my head.
Flat affect.
Hiding in the house.
Laying on the couch, under a blanket, clutching a pillow to my chest.
Finished watching "The Return of the King."

Decide to get up to see if that helps.
Complete some household chores.
Start a pot of chili for a friend.
Bring out a piece of a tree to personalize.
Cook thin pork chops for protein.

Lay back down, under a blanket, clutching a pillow to my chest.
Start watching Law & Order Season 7.
Look at cat tree with strings hanging.
Get scissors and waste basket and start trimming.
Episode is a young guy with schizophrenia.

As episode is playing and I am trimming, I start talking.
I am talking back to the episode.
I am interjecting my thoughts, my warnings, my experience.
I am sharing this with a tv character.
I am fervent in what I am saying.

I become more vocal.
My voice becomes loud.
My front door is shut and I am glad because no one can hear me.
My voices are participating.
They have joined in to help educate this young man just like they helped me.

That's why they mustn't leave.
My voices are safe.
They've helped me survive horrific abuse just like my
Split off personality, Erik, when I was 8.
How do I keep them and live with them?

I hid in my house.
Then I went into my shed.
It needed to be organized side to side so that's what I did.
It took a long time to think through what to do first then next and so on.
My scrambled eggs brain couldn't concentrate.
But eventually, I accomplished what I set out to do.

Schizophrenia and Split Personality.
Just two of the many forms of mental illness I deal with.
When the medications can't manage the neurotransmitters right,
CRASH!
And that's what's been slowly happening until yesterday when my head hit the pavement (a metaphor) and my serotonin and other neurotransmitters scattered onto the little dirt road that people seldom travel.

That little dirt road is located inside my brain.
Few people are invited in and even then, fewer stay.
I am prayerfully selective on who is extended an invitation.
It's my home, my safe place, a familiar place, God's provision.
It has everything I need to sustain the life God wants me to have.
But every now and then, it needs a tune-up.

And that's when I see my psychiatrist.
Especially when I've crashed.
It would be ideal if it was before and I did see him before.
It's just that the new medication didn't work and perhaps made it worse.
He doesn't like the voices because they distract me.

At least I wasn't suicidal.

For My Therapist

My brain is crashing.
It started yesterday, into my sleep time and all day today.
My mind is starting and stopping then pausing for minutes.
I canceled going to church, canceled time with Catherine and only sent one message for a possible book meeting on Tuesday evening.

My fear is someone is listening to me as I talk back to an episode of Law & Order.  I feel the paranoia rising up into my brain chemicals.  I'm not laying down on the couch.  I am busying myself by giving the cat tree a trim.  I'm taking all of my medications.

I started hearing voices again maybe a week ago.  I found out last night that Valerie Caudhill passed away.  I was sad because I didn't get to say good-bye.  I found out on Facebook when I was checking my friends' list and deciding whether or not to clean house.  That's when I noticed there was no picture next to her name.  I know you couldn't tell me.

Then I have a friend who stopped talking to me.  Just stopped.  No explanation, no nothing.  After thinking about it for awhile I might have figured it out.  I don't know.  I got this weird message from a number without a name.  Three words.  If that was her, what does that mean?  I mean I know what it means but it doesn't explain anything.  I dunno.  Another grief not understood.

So I'm keeping myself busy but it hasn't helped.  All I think about is this brain disease and how much I hate it.  I can't be around people right now, I don't want to talk to anyone, my eyes get fixed on objects, I'm not going to respond to messages and all I want to do is be with myself and the voices and everything will be okay.

(Inner Child:  I don't want to go to small group and I want to return the money recent people have given to me.  I'm not a charity case even if I can't function like everybody else all the time.  These voices are my friends.  Don't take them away.)

I'll call Dr. Didenko tomorrow for an appointment this week.

Hanging On

I struggled to wake up this morning after a vivid dream.
The only thing I remember is the number 240.50.
I had a pulsating migraine but once I got out of bed it dissipated.
After a shower, it was completely gone.

Depression is heavy in my mind.
I'm focusing on my book, the abuse chapters and the content.
How detailed do I get?
How do I protect people's identity?

Do I say, Dad, uncle, neighbor, male and female perpetrators totaling six?
Do I talk about the repercussions like hair pulling, bed wetting, splitting off into another personality, protecting my mom and siblings, burying my own feelings and later cutting, drinking and mental illness?
What about the rage I feel inside so many decades later?
Where does that fit in?

There's so much more.  How do I choose?
I hate my mental disorders.
I really do.
I feel like punishing myself.
But that won't fix anything.

Access To My Feelings, etc.

I had to push away the feelings to disappear.
They came out of feeling scared and maybe even anger.
I could feel the surge of emotions well up inside of me.
I started to drive away from home when I heard it.

The voice.

The Holy Spirit said, "Amy, all you have to do is turn around."
"Turn around and watch a three hour movie."
"You don't have to talk to anyone."
"You don't have to do anything."
"You can curl up on the couch under your blanket."
"You'll be safe."

I decided to drive a little ways to a safe destination.
I drove around slowly, taking in what I saw.
I was surprised by some of it.
The rest of it was clearly familiar.
Then I drove home.

I completed an outdoor task that brought up feelings of anger.
Someone else deciding what was right.
Someone else not doing what I asked.
I decided I would do it myself.
I have the right to take away someone else's service.

When I finished outside, I sat inside and watched a movie.
I didn't call my therapist or a friend or a family member.
My disorders are my own and I can get through them on my own.
Besides, they don't always know what to do.
That's okay because I know what to do.

As I was watching the movie I started hearing voices,
The radio ones where I can't make out what's being said.
Since this has happened half a dozen times, I should call my psychiatrist.
But since it's happened half a dozen times and I haven't flipped out, well,
I'll call next week when I have enough gas.

Besides, I know what and how much I can handle of my mood disorders, schizophrenia, bipolar depression and other mental illnesses I have .

I'm the one with 100% access and knowledge inside of me.
I get to decide who gets how much and when.
No one else will ever have complete access.
Why?
Because I'm still discovering things about my past, I'm still in therapy to talk about whatever needs talking about and I don't trust people easily.

This is a great short video on Bipolar.  They have some awesome videos.  I watched many of them.