Don’t believe me, but it’s true…

As an individual, does seeing, hearing or believing in something that others have not experienced, that is not recognised on a universal scale, does that make the individuals experiences untrue? Are my accounts of experiences that are slightly out of the ordinary, perceived as irrational and put down to an over active imagination because I am diagnosed with various mental health problems? Is it easier for you to dismiss the strange things that are currently happening to me? Write it off and expect me to shut up and put up?
People believe in, “God” an omniscient presence of light and good, live their whole lives trying to please the almighty that they have never even seen or had personal contact with. Science is based in facts, research and evidence, yet the population are torn in believing that the world we live in was either created by God or a matter of chance, the big bang theory. I am not writing about this to discredit anyone’s beliefs. Information is available and people pick what makes sense to them. I could happily sit down and listen to arguments about both accounts, take from it what I will, by being open minded to all possibilities. I wish people had that attitude when it comes to my mental health and wellbeing!
Medically, my recent experiences would be recognised as audio and visual hallucinations, caused by psychosis. From an extreme religious point of view, my experiences would be classed as being possessed by evil spirits. Paranormal activity specialists would describe my experiences as paranormal activity, ghosts, aliens and so on. Sleep therapists may call it lucid dreams. Truth be told, I need intervention and at this point I am less concerned about why things are happening and want to know how and for what reason? What I am experiencing is most definitely out of the ordinary and very real, but because my latest type of symptoms are random and uncommon, no One, not the professional mental health people or my nearest and dearest understand. I have tried to relay my experiences and only received frustration and dismissal in return. I am scared, confused and don’t know what to do, but write on here and simply hope that someone else who has experienced or understands my latest woes, can help and release me from these exhausting, haunting and seemingly inexplicable episodes.
Last night, now the second or third time, I felt pressure on the bottom if my bed, simultaneously with a sound like a thud, something had jumped onto my bed. This startled me but I could not move. It then walked upto my face, smelling my breath, I tried to turn my head away and scream to startle the creature but could not move at all. I bravely managed to open my eyes. I discovered a large, shabby furred, black cat. A part of me was glad to not see a rat but at the same time, I very much hate cats and must stress that I live alone and without pets. I felt it’s fur on my face, it’s breath as it snuffed around and almost the touch of a cold and wet nose. I cold not move it, myself or make a sound. This happening just once, I could put down as a random experience, even a dream but to happen again, it was very real I finally broke free of paralysis and quickly turned on the light, somewhat disappointed to see nothing at all.
That incident plus the combination of seeing huge black spiders scuttle across the living room floor throughout the days, plus deafening sounds of music and parties when I try to go to sleep, have had me unbalanced for around ten days. Plus the incident with the self harm and blood in the kitchen, which I still have no recollection of happening. I think it would be fair to say, something isn’t right. So much so, that I don’t want to go to sleep. The tears, the panic attacks and self harm have all escalated because I am at a loss and been offered no extra support or explanation. Friends often say, call me when you are down. How on earth do you call someone and explain all this? How much can I share with the professionals before they put me back in hospital!?
I decided to google the cat scenario and I was surprised to see that, that experience is actually a thing. I found no consistent answers but people out there have experienced the same thing, some believe it to be the spirit of the cat that was once there pet, others call it an angel in animal form, others paranormal activity or demon’s of the night!?
Although I am agnostic, I do believe in angels but there was nothing good about this creature, it was not invited, needed or welcomed. When I used to get tormented by, “Mr Three Piece”, things got bad and I ended up in hospital. MY mother had my flat exorcised and blessed and he never came back. I saw him in hospital and across the road from my mums but never again in my home. A blessing and exorcism has no shelf life. Therefor if a demon or evil spirit, it should not have been able to get into my flat and invade my personal space? I have shouted no evil spirits or evil of any kind are welcome here and so please leave but the test will be the next time I sleep in my bed. I will wait until I get very tired, then do yoga, have a shower, to feel refreshed, I shall try to stay awake and on the sofa tonight and wherever I rest, keep all the lights in!
If anyone has an idea of what is happening to me, please do let me know.

What the actual F###!?

When you wake up thinking that it is just another day and you habitually vape, check your phone for missed texts, calls, social media messages, statements and recorded visits on my various outlets, once satisfied, I usually take my medication and get out of bed and my day officially begins. One of the texts that I received was off a friend, she said that she had listened to one of my poems on SoundCloud and had really enjoyed it, that compliment ignited my artistic fuel and so I decided that the first task of the day would be to record another. Setting up took a while, choosing the right song, a device to play it from, a source to manipulate volume, my words and another device to record. Getting it right took even longer. Once satisfied, I uploaded and shared it.

When I had finished, I was extremely parched and so I went into the kitchen for the first time that day. I was thinking about food but still felt a little sick for over indulging on my diet snacks in disappointment the night before. I was supposed to be going on a date with someone that I had met online and had been conversing with for two whole weeks. He had cancelled the week before, due to a sustained work injury and being the gullible and helpless romantic that I am, I continued talking to him, at least he had cancelled, the guy that I was supposed to date before, had gone AWOL and so for me this scenario was an improvement. Yet unfortunately it got to date day and I had not heard from him to confirm, I started to get ready whilst making up excuses for him, perhaps he was at work with no access to his phone, as we had planned this date throughout the last week, perhaps he felt no need to check in and confirm. Our date was supposed to be at eight. I didn’t want to come across to intense and insecure but had no desire to get ready and go to meet someone who had seen and ignored my WhatsApp texts. In hope I had begun to get ready, but it got to seven and still not a word. I had officially been stood up, once again. I am rapidly becoming to familiar with this scenario! People complain about bad dates and I can’t even seem to get to the first date stage.
It had been a really bad week for me, being stood up of cause stirs the pangs of abandonment and rejection issues that I already have but not meeting this guy was the least of my worries. I had engaged in a therapy session that I had been anxious about attending, I am better at disclosing stuff to females but with the budget cuts, my only option was a male therapist, the session evoked and awakened the voices that I hear that had admittedly been dormant for at least a month. I had recently received news about having to leave my residence and find a new home, the decision felt heavy and premature to me. My depression had me stuck in a rut, unable to be active, shower, change my clothes and get out of my funk, energy levels low and no desire or motivation. On top of that, my psychosis had come back with a vengeance, my anxiety had me in regular panic attacks and my depression in floods of tears, this was prior to the new therapy about suicidal thoughts, actions and hearing voices that I was due to commence. I was cycling on my wonder core smart one night, whilst sobbing my heart out at the same time, what an image. After therapy with heightened psychosis, I couldn’t rest or sleep properly, disturbed by every sound, music, people, constant chatter and noise, unable to distinguish if the noise was universal or just a burden for me.
When I walked into the kitchen, it looked like the remains of a murder scene! Blood on the floor, surfaces and up the walls. I live alone and so of cause, it had to be my blood. I looked at my body for the first time that day, and discovered blood soaked bandages on my left arm and right leg. What the actual F###!? If I can do such detrimental harm to myself and just forget about it, I fear what may happen next time and in the future. I was clearly unwell, having some kind of episode and quite frankly unsafe to be alone. I was shocked, confused, scared, apprehensive and felt terribly isolated. I wanted to tell someone and ask for help but had strong reservations. Why should I drag people that I care about into this mess? Why reach out to people that I think care about me, only to get shunned and turned away. Why be delusional enough to think that anyone would care when I am just a number, another insignificant and weak being on this planet. Why invite my loved ones into this cobweb of a disaster. Why tell the professionals when I know that, that would result in some serious intervention. I did and do not want to go back to hospital, telling them would result in another psychiatric sentence. I decided to tell them once it had subsided as I believe the incident does need to be logged, yet if it happened again, I would have to swallow my pride and say something.
Throughout that day and the night, I kept seeing gigantic black spiders scuttle across the living room floor. Once again, it was hard to try to get to sleep that night with all of the distractions. I felt this animal jump onto the bed and get really close to my face, paralysed, I could not move or scream. I opened my eyes to see what felt like a fury creature, it was a large black cat with a bushy coat. I turned my head but could still not scream. I don’t have a pet, how did it get in? I hate cats. I was scared that it was more likely to be a rat or something. I had to dig really deep to get movement back into my body and turned the light on as soon as I was free. There was no creature to see but I swear that was not a dream, it was real what had happened to me. This time I decided to call for help, I was still bleeding away. The help said that it was a lucid dream, but I would not accept it and confessed how scared that I was. It was arranged to get a call once the office was open. This was only a few hours away. It was suggested that I get some sleep but I couldn’t and sat up writing. The call came just as I had fallen asleep, there was talk of solutions and action and it was decided that all the information would be relayed back to my mental health team Monday morning and to expect a call. It is now Tuesday and still no call, I even tried to phone them and I am waiting for a call back. I think the worst of it is over now but my illness is unpredictable, I would be a fool to believe that my symptoms are over for good. I hope that this new therapy will help me understand such happenings. What scares me the most, is not being able to remember causing great harm to myself and I fear the severity of injury if it happens again.
Living with severe mental health problems can only be described as an intricate, living nightmare. I believe that it has shaped my destiny, which is to use my experiences of pain and suffering to help others and raise awareness, I have been told that I must die to make an impact. Every time that I see or speak to my little sister, this saddens me.