Look Up, Always

The notion that everything happens for a reason seemed like a distant myth until i played the game of life. How could fate possibly be real? With millions of possibilities stemming from thousands of different outcomes, how could it be possible that one clear path was pre-determined for each individual?

Psychosis was and will forever be the scariest experience of my young life. Nothing could have prepared me for it, nothing could have stopped it and nothing can combat the fact that it changed my life forever.

Every experience of psychosis is different, none with the same quirks or course of action. It twists and turns, truly throwing the victim in the deep end and in my case pushing me to act against everything thought to be the 'right' way to live. It is an illness, with the cause not fully known. There are ways in which it can be induced; via the use of drugs or by a buildup of intense stress. I believe i thought my way into it. Overthinking the same things over and over and running with impossible scenarios in my mind. Post psychotic episodes, i can tell when my thoughts are running away with themselves; i try to stop them. I don't want psychosis to happen to me again. Sometimes i can't stop my ideas and they begin to click over and turn into grandiose theories about the world and the people living in it. Thoughts about aliens, evolution, and religion now have a place in my brain, whereas beforehand they wouldn't have made the cut.

It's strange thinking about these things, but this is my life now. I can't just flick the switch and turn them off. I think about my psychotic episodes every day, wondering what life would have been like had they not happened. I don't know if i would change what happened now because the experience truly shaped how i see the world today.

The types of thoughts i had were not normal, although i can only see it now that i am completely sane. I believe i was in some sort of psychotic state for years,with the most notable presentations showing themselves as two acute, scary and intense psychotic episodes. The state i was in prior to the episodes was a much different experience; it felt like everything that happened had greater impact on me than it really should have in reality. Every little thing mattered to me, i would think and think about all of my actions, how people related to me, the exact words i spoke, what they meant and how much weight they carried. This may seem normal, but the frequency and intensity with which i implored myself to believe things that didn't carry a lot of truth was great. I thought about everything late into the night, causing me to miss out on much needed sleep. It was tiring, and seemed to never end. I began to think that i was special and different to everyone else. In fact, i still think i am different, but not entirely special and definitely no stand out in comparison to other people. One thing i know and am sure of is my intellect. I know i'm clever, but it's a weird quiet kind of clever. I think a lot. Sometimes i over complicate simple things and make a mess of them. I also can't convey my thoughts and feelings over speech, often stuttering my words, making no sense and sounding like a complete and total idiot.
Perhaps, i still think too much, but in comparison to what i call my 'low-key psychotic state' the thoughts are by far not as fast-paced or heavily weighted.

One moment i vividly remember occurred in the summer before my episodes. I was at work and had been told to get some socks from the room out the back. It just so happened that the box i needed was way out of reach for my short frame and i required a step-ladder. Unknown to me at the time, there were thick plastic shoe props on top of the box. Acquiring the step-ladder, i had climbed up and positioned myself to get the box down. The hidden shoe props had slid off the top of the box and struck me on my front tooth. As a child i had broken that same tooth in half, requiring it to be fixed with a fake filing. The force of the plastic broke my tooth again and i immediately burst into tears. I ran upstairs, taking two at a time and called my parents. It was hard for me to get words out, as i was crying so much. After i calmed down, i explained to each parent in probably too much detail what had just happened.
Looking back on it now, i realize that i grossly overplayed the whole ordeal to be a much bigger deal than it actually was. Even though i tried to hide my sobs from my work-mates, most of them heard about the incident and came to my aid. They comforted me and helped to calm me down further. I told everyone who would listen what happened and told it to the same effect that i had told my parents. I filed an incident report and told my manager. That day i managed to secure an emergency appointment at the dentist. In short, i made too much of a fuss about the whole situation and now i can see it was completely out of character for me to overplay such a small drama.
Even after i had had my tooth fixed, i kept telling the story. i don't know why it mattered so much to me, but it did.

Many things over that summer seemed to be of greater importance than what they actually were. I think that's the calm before the storm when talking about psychosis.

Along with the stand out moments over that summer, there were many smaller incidents that i still think about to this day. Every time i mucked up at work, i would go over and over it in my head; thinking of all the alternate possibilities had i done that one thing differently. I bashed myself for doing the job wrong and over time i dwindled down all my confidence.
Overthinking is dangerous to your mental health. It twists situations and turns them into things that they never were and probably never will be. It is my personal belief that i thought myself into a psychotic state. I thought so much, and so abnormally that i distracted myself from reality and in its place i believed the fictions that i had constructed myself in my mind.

It's really hard for me to remember the exact thoughts i had whilst in the midst of my psychotic episodes. I do know that they were paranoid thoughts about others trying to kill me or my loved ones if i did something deemed 'morally wrong.' Some of them told me that i would reach celebrity status because i had discovered too much about life. In my mind, all celebrities were talent less beings, who, along with myself, had discovered 'too much' about life. I couldn't tell you what i thought i knew about life, but at the time it seemed as though i was in on one big secret. My reasoning as to why the celebrities hadn't told anyone about their 'discoveries' was because they had been hushed with fame and money by a higher power.
I felt special and as though i belonged in their world. I had no doubt in my mind that someone would discover what i thought i knew and would grant me the same status as others who 'knew too much.'
At the time, it didn't even occur to me how people would 'discover' me, i just knew in my head and my heart that they would.

Along with the thoughts i had of becoming a celebrity were the strange assumptions i made about myself intertwined with religion. I basically thought i was the god of my generation and every death and indeed birth was on me. I felt enormous pressure 'playing god' as i honestly believed that the decisions i made determined whether certain people lived or died.
I remember thinking that people could listen to my thoughts and that every time i had a thought about death, someone, somewhere in the world would die. Prior to this experience, i had never thought about death a whole lot, but at the time it seemed as though the ideas i had were pestering and relentless. As well as 'controlling' the lives of others around the world, i remember the intense stress i felt when it came to maintaining my own life. I truly believed that if i had more bad thoughts in my mind than good (i still don't know how this is possible as thoughts are sequential), my body would give out and i would die. Looking back now, i know it's scientifically impossible for thought to kill, but at the time it felt so real. I was terrified. I willed myself to think happy thoughts, but consciously, it was so hard.

I also believed that my thoughts could control the weather. Looking outside, if the weather was bad, i grew increasingly anxious and believed it was happening because of me. On the flip-side, if the weather was good, i was slightly less anxious and internally praised myself for thinking 'happy' things. It was very strange having such a flux of ideas, but at the time they all seemed so real and indeed true.

I wish i could remember all the thoughts i was having in the midst of my episodes, but i can't. I know what my actions were, but i don't remember why i did certain things.

On the morning of my first episode, i got up, consciously knowing that i didn't feel normal. I knew i needed professional help but it was a weekend and my psychiatrist wasn't available. After some searching online, i found a place that i could go to. I didn't trust myself to drive, so i boarded public transport. My thoughts were racing so fast and there was nothing i could do to make them stop. I got off the train at a nearby shopping center. It was at this stage that i thought i was playing a game of life, where every wrong decision i made could potentially be fatal. Everything past this point is a rushed blur, but i ended up that night dosed up on anti-psychotic medication. I had a high dosage and was bombed out for the rest of the next day. When i finally awoke, my mum told me about all the strange things i had been doing and saying. I was scared. I had an appointment with my psychiatrist as soon as i possibly could. He kept me on anti-psychotic medication, although on a much lower dose. He told me to write a book full of rational thoughts i was having. He said that i needed to convince him to not send me back to hospital. He wanted to make sure that i was sane.

In my mind, i was convinced that he would be the one to kill me, because i had reached a point that had surpassed celebrity status, I knew entirely too much. Again, i couldn't tell you what i thought i knew, but i thought in my mind lay the secrets of the world. At this stage the world had been flipped. Mentally ill persons became those who were well, and irrational thoughts had replaced those that were once rational. My goal was to write in my book, things that would convince my psychiatrist that i didn't know the earths power. I became fixated on the idea that i would have to trick him into sparing my life.
I cleverly wrote in my book "I know the thoughts, but i can't make sense if them.' This was a complete lie. My brain was processing my irrational thoughts and was making complete sense of them. I was invincible and i knew everything there was to know. At my next appointment, after hearing about my overnight stay in hospital and reading my diary entries, my psychiatrist thought it was wise to hook me up to a portable heart-rate monitor for a day; just as an extra precaution. I thought this was the nail in the coffin for me. I was done, he knew about me and my substantial knowledge. I believed that the heart rate monitor was not a heart rate monitor at all. It was a device from a higher power that would be able to tune into my thoughts. I would track my feelings, and send the findings to someone (i don't know who) who would kill me. I willed myself to think positively, but it was almost impossible. I was told, again, to keep writing in my book before we met again at our next appointment. He was still formulating an opinion on whether or not i should be hospitalized. This would be the ultimate test, i thought. I would have to trick him and the heart rate monitor at the same time. Although i was scared, i was also determined. Never before had i thought so much about keeping my life, but i felt as if i could pass these 'tests' i could do anything.
Ultimately i felt as though i had to alter my fate.

I lied as i wrote in my book:

"There is a rational reason for every irrational thought."
"The monitor has made me very anxious, but not on the same level as 'the game' before. Compared to the game, this feels like a 'mini game'
"In the mini game, i am thinking very irrationally, but i am balancing my irrational thoughts with the words of those thinking rationally.'
"I woke up and thought that i never want to think 'why?' on an abnormal level again. I will remove all stimuli for me thinking why? normally until i am ready to start introducing things."

Then things started to get really scary. I starting to hear noises, mainly beeps, but once i heard children laughing eerily.

I continued writing in my book:

"i thought i heart the heart rate thing beep really loudly, but i'm not sure."

Then, to my irrational self, i wrote the biggest lies of all:

"Finally! It feels like yes, i know facts, without the abnormally complex reasons behind them"
"I can't think for everyone, they can only thing for themselves"
"There is a good kind of clever and a bad kind of clever. I am the good kind."

The i became obsessed with the time. I wrote:

"There is no 'right time' to do anything, it's just the time.'

I didn't make it back to my psychiatrist that week, having become so obsessed with the idea that he was going to kill me. I was so enthralled with the whole thought that i had mapped out exactly what was going to happen in his office to a t. I had written myself a mental script of what i was going to say to him, and i knew the exact moments i would have to say said things.
On the day that i was due back for an appointment, i was terrified. I believed that no matter how i hard i tried to trick him into thinking i wasn't the savior there was no way i could outsmart him. Obviously, i can see now, that intellect is not a premise to base a murder off of and in no way would the man who, over the years had tried to save my life would be the one to end my years. I ended up jumping out of the car on the way to my appointment. I tried to run away, but my mum called an ambulance and the police. Having seen a police car drive past as i ran along the footpath, i had sped up, now focusing my energy on not getting caught by authorities. It was my belief that they would take me back to my psychiatrist where i would be murdered.
Eventually, i ended up in the back of the ambulance, totally freaking out. I remember thinking that the machines they were hooking me up to were sending messages to those who wanted to harm me. It felt like those who were there to help you had there roles reversed and were actually there to kill you. At this point i didn't know what to do. I felt like i couldn't run away because there were spies everywhere, all with the sole mission to catch me.
I entered the hospital through the ambulance way point and was told to sit down on one of the chairs out the back. There were people being rushed by on trolleys. I thought my thoughts had put these people in hospital. It was very surreal. I was asked questions and had my observations taken and then i was told to wait in the general public waiting room. I was given a hospital blanket and put in an adjoining room to the main waiting room. It was here that i became obsessed with numbers. The number 3 popped into my mind and suddenly it became my reality that i would be in the room for three years. I wanted to scream, but i didn't want to alert the spies. Soon after i was ushered into my waiting room, my dad appeared. I had never been so happy to see anyone in my life. I began pleading with him to please 'not let them kill me.' I still to this day couldn't tell you who i thought 'they' were, but 'they' were very real to me, whoever they were.

After rushed conversations, and piece by piece my family members arriving i was escorted with security to the psych ward of the hospital. It seemed as though there were 1000 twists and turns to get there, and i became increasingly fragile. Once there, my parents and i were told there would be a wait to get admitted. I remember lying on the common area couch, in front of the tv, (which was giving me all sorts of funny signals) and asking repetitively of my parents if i was a good person or not. It was still my belief that if i had more bad thoughts than good, i would die. At this point in time, i was trying really hard to fight sleep. Again, i thought i would die if i allowed myself a temporary cat-nap. One of the main things from that night that stands out to me is the vision i had of a man sitting opposite me on another couch. I was clearly hallucinating as i saw him again backwards into a young boy. He looked familiar, much like my ex-boyfriend.
I don't remember much after that vision until very early the next morning. I had woken up in a room that i hadn't fallen asleep in. My parents were gone and there was nobody around. At first, i was shocked that i was still alive. I thought the sleep would have killed me. I got out of bed and ran to the door. It was locked. I looked down at my arm and saw a hospital band. How had i not remembered my admission? I started to panic as i faced the recurring fear that i would be trapped alone in this room forever, alone to die. I went into the bathroom, terrified to look at my reflection. I kept my eyes to the floor. Seeing a button next to the toilet, i pushed it and ran out of the bathroom. I saw another button on the wall next the exit to the room. I pushed that one too and sat cross legged in front of the door. The alarms outside the room started to sound and nurses rushed to my room.
I couldn't tell them what i was thinking because i thought they were all apart of a plan to kill me. I told them i was scared and that was pretty much it. They told me to go back to bed and try and get some sleep. I couldn't tell them, but i was still terrified of sleep. I fought it as much as i could, but seeing as i'd obviously had some sort of medication before i had been taken like a zombie to my room it was deemed near impossible. I fell asleep again, and woke up about 10 minuets later. My body was trying so hard to fight sleep, that it had somewhat succeeded.
The nurses were obviously there to kill me, but i also believed that they would be the ones to save me. It was a strange feeling that i couldn't quite work out. With memory of what happened before, i got out of bed and pushed both buttons. I did this about three more times that night. One of the nurses looked cross when she came to see me after my forth round and muttered to her co-worker "oh, she's done it again!"

In the end, a psychiatrist was sent to my door and i was scheduled for an impromptu meeting. I remember thinking that the ones who escorted me to the meeting were the president of the united states and his wife posing in different bodies. Time travel then, seemed only too real. I don't remember much of my meeting, or the rest of that night. I think i was given more medication, and at that point, my body couldn't fight it any longer.

The next two weeks were an absolute blur. I remember certain things, but can't really make sense of them now as i was in such a delusional state. I remember the intense repetition, making friends with everyone, the struggles i had with meal-time and my detrimental beliefs that everyone was out to kill me.

I remember the first friend i made, he believed that i was a literal angel and told me that 'our hearts connected on the first night i came in.' He came up to me, his hands shaking uncontrollably, speaking complete gibberish. I understood every word, and believed what he said. We were two psychotic people trying to make sense of the world. It was like a beautiful disaster. He would come up to me randomly, and unreel a spiel of gibberish. I was completely captivated by what he said, and listened intently to every word.

Another friend i made in the early stages of my hospitalization was a girl around my age. We connected immediately. I trusted her and relied heavily upon her. I didn't like letting her out of my sight. She smoked and i did not. I remember seeing her as the rebellious version of myself. I think at this point in time, i was convinced, that she was me in another life. Don't ask me how this was possible. It just was. I would sit away from her whilst she smoked with the other patients, still keeping her in my eye-sight. We shared beauty products and secrets, she was one of the reasons i was able to stay so strong.

I became obsessed with making friends. I thought i had to create a large circle of people who liked me to combat those who i thought were out to get me. It was at this stage that i thought i could beat the 'bad guys' and win the game of life. I didn't know who exactly the bad guys were or why they wanted to kill me, i just knew they existed. They were there, they were real, and they were scary.

Scrawl was written all over the ward, mostly expletives and anti-religious slurs. There was a giant chalkboard outside, near a basketball hoop and mini court. On it, were symbols and curse words. They all made sense to me. I thought they were messages directed to me specifically. After some rainfall, the chalkboard was wiped clean. I remember one morning going up to the board with a fresh piece of chalk and writing 'Look Up, Always' in giant letters. I was proud of my work. I also thought the other patients would see me as a shining light for putting up such a positive message to contradict all the negative words around the place. I was an angel, a true work of god.
Some of the most notable words were written by the shared patient phone. The phone was a weird shape, and i believed this was a reason to think not to trust any technology. The words 'Fuck you' were scrawled on the wall in front of the phone, in plain eyesight. I remember believing that any one call could kill a person (don't ask me how), so the words actually proved to be quite fitting. The patients were on my level, or so i thought, we all knew the dangers of a phone call.

The basketball hoop outside became an obsession for me. I thought it much more than entertainment. Every hoop i scored, was another point for humanity in my mind. Another billion years of life. I spent a lot of time playing basketball. It became my goal to get the noticeably most unwell patients to play ball with me as a way to secure the future of the world. Just another strange fixation i had.

One day a man needed the padded room to calm down. He wasn't doing so well that day. His daughter and wife and come to visit and they were understandably upset. I can still hear his screams in the back of my mind to this day.

One of the patients tried to convince me to finish my favorite game whilst i was in the ward. She jeered at me as she said it. I felt threatened, and told a nurse. She was removed from my ward and put into the high-intensity section. I felt better, and was reassured by the nurse that i had done the right thing.

Playing games was one of the many things i did in the ward to pass the time. I loved playing, but was scared at the same time as i wasn't overly trusting of all forms of technology. I thought my portable gaming device was reading my mind and tracking my thoughts in patterns. I tried to concentrate on happy things whilst playing my games to ensure that the higher power that i was so afraid of wouldn't know that i knew the 'secrets.'

Along with playing games, i spent a lot of time writing in my little notebook. I thought i was documenting valuable pieces of human history, but really all i wrote was meaningless dribble.
I passed notes to patients, mainly pieces of paper with my phone number on it, but sometimes i wrote comforting messages that couldn't be spoken aloud.

All female patients in the low-intensity ward wore a black wristband, a gateway into the otherwise locked 'ladies only' dormitory. I remember thinking that if i couldn't get through the door after i had buzzed myself in, in a certain amount of time i would be locked in there forever. I always took one of my new found friends into that section with me, even if it was just to use the bathroom.

After a week and a half, i hadn't mentally progressed. My parents were stressed, and worried sick about me and couldn't see any improvements. It was refreshing having them come into the ward. I felt almost normal. Looking back now, i can see i was in no way normal, but at the time i felt okay.

Walking with other patients and the nurses proved to be more difficult that it sounded. These scheduled walks were the only time patients from the low and high intensity wards would mix. I became acquainted with patients more mentally ill with me. Whilst on the walks, they would cause trouble. Some would pick plants out of peoples front lawns, others would run on the road in front of cars. Most just wouldn't follow walking directions and had to be chased by one of the many staff who accompanied us on these walks. Seeing things from the outside world was a big deal for me. I thought that the things i was seeing were signs of what my future would look like. I began to be optimistic. They hadn't killed me yet, so why would they now? I saw cars parked on the street and immediately thought they would be mine once i had escaped the hospital. I saw adverts for schools and thought that my future children would end up going there. It was as though it was factual information and not just regular things to spot on a walk. The walks were the same route each morning and i began to become accustomed to the repetition of behavior from the other patients. I remember seeing a billboard for a house for sale, its title was 'highly sought after'. The patients all seemed to stop and stare whenever we walked past it. I don't know what they were thinking, but i was in awe of the place and thought it would be mine one day, but at the same time didn't want to live in it as it would be an obvious place to reside and they would find me.

Food was another big deal. Choosing my meal for the next day each night seemed like a time trial as i ticked all the boxes. The food that i ended up with however, never seemed to be what i had chosen. Cleanliness, and not eating food from others plates was of the highest importance to me. I believed all the food was poison, but for some reason i continued to eat it. Whenever i needed a drink, i would get a fresh polystyrene cup and watch carefully as i filled it from the tap. I wouldn't let any of the other patients pour me a drink, as they weren't to be trusted and could slip a poison in my cup. One patient battling with anorexia continually flicked food at me, begging me to eat her portions. I, of course, did not.

When it was finally time for me to leave the ward i was scared, and not ready to enter the real world. Every task seemed like something new and fresh, something i would have to re-learn. At this point in time i had gotten over the thought that i would be killed, but this was probably because i was drugged up. The anti-psychotics were working.
I wet my pants before my next appointment with my psychiatrist, from shock. It was awkward and embarrassing, but i manged to tell him everything. I was told that it was possible that i had had my drink spiked which spurred on a drug induced psychosis. I had gone out the week before the drama had all started, but it was still only a possibility.

I still think about my experience to this day, and am not quite over it. I've written many pieces, some gibberish, some not, but none of them come close to explaining what psychosis was like to go through. It's an experience, and not something that can be told.

I like to try and sum it up with this poem:

Psychosis is hard, Psychosis is scary
Grandiose psychosis can make you feel like an instant celebrity.
It twists and turns and throws you around, sometimes it makes you wish you lived underground.
To save the world, to rule them all, this is your reason for birth, after all!
Except it's not, this is not the truth, your brain, it's not thinking straight, sometimes without proof!
The thoughts you're having, as bizarre as they seem, are real, you think, this can't be a dream!
The reason for life, you've figured it out, simple it seems, without a doubt!
Run from them, don't scream and don't shout, you can't tell them that you've worked this life out!
How can you hide such a secret so large, surely they'll find you, they won't have to barge.
They are everywhere, hidden in disguise, and they are trained to find you, so you'll have to be wise.
You are the one they're looking for, make no mistake, to hide this burden you'll have to be as skinny as a rake.
A conclusion you draw, frightening it seems, you know too much, your life is supreme.
Your life is important, your thoughts control all, how, oh how, will you cope with this incredible downfall?
The game has started and you must win, there is no other choice, you are you in your skin.
The weather around you, the voice on TV, it is all such pressure, why can't you just be?
People are dying, it must be your fault, for you are the chosen one, the secret, the vault.
It is important to breathe, to pause and to think,
because really, it's all in your head, you're not on the brink.
There is no race to be won, no sleep to be fought, nothing will happen if you allow yourself to be caught.
The one is not you, it's all been a lie, it's not you at all, you're not ready to die.