Of Delusions and Hallucinations

I have the distinct memory of staring at the wallpaper in my parents’ living room sometime towards the end of September 2017. This unique wallpaper comprised different stills from famous old movies. I remember looking at it and having the strangest feeling that the people in the black and white pictures were looking back at me: their eyes followed me around the room. And then, looking at the painting of boats moored in an old fishing-village which hung proudly in the same living-room on a wall adjacent to this wallpaper, I remember being completely flabbergasted when the boats in the painting started to move. I took this as bona-fide proof that ‘Harry Potter was real’ and that I had also simultaneously been blessed with super-powers. At one point, I even thought that the President of the United States was after me because I could see through walls.

People’s faces melted and morphed before my eyes when I would go out for walks to town by myself, usually resembling either bug-eyed, blown-up benevolent cartoons, or twisting into the features of the Joker with sickly painted drooping smiles. I heard a deep booming male voice which I called ‘the voice of God’ and spent a good month or so believing I could heal people with the power of touch. ‘I feel like Jesus’ I exclaimed to my worried parents, bouncing out of the house with a massive smile on my face.

My disorder is polymorphic, which means my hallucinations and delusions can change from day to day or hour to hour when I am very unwell. This meant it was very obvious to everyone else that I needed to see a doctor, and fast.

But I thought the doctor was going to shoot me, and that hospitals were a hoax. This was part of my ‘Matrix’ delusion, as part of which I would literally see green code materialising before my eyes, falling in a stream of symbols from ceiling to floor.

I have never experienced such a rollercoaster ride of strong emotions before. It was emotional turmoil of the most intense kind. One minute I was as high as a kite, laughing manically to myself, and the next, I experienced such intense fear and anguish that I would lock myself in my bedroom and bury myself under the covers, for fear that Agent Smith was waiting outside the door waiting to blow my head off.

When the A&E nurses showed up at the house one evening, I remember I only conceded to going with them because they had elven ears and because they had ‘kind eyes.’ It was an observation fuelled by delusional beliefs, but nonetheless, one that would save my life.