‘Hearing voices nobody else can hear has become normal for me’
Former M.E.N. reporter Sam Richardson speaks out about his four-year mental health battle
“LOSER, waste of space. You’re lazy, stupid, get out of the way.”
I’ve not even got out of bed in the morning and the barrage of abuse has already begun. I can tell it’s going to be a long day.
As someone living with psychosis, hearing voices that nobody else can hear has become normal for me, but that’s not to say it’s something I’ll ever get used to.
Up until four years ago, I was a ‘normal’ young man in his early 20s.
I had a good job as a journalist at the Manchester Evening News, Rochdale Observer and Middleton Guardian, regularly working 12-hour days and barely batting an eyelid.
I enjoyed a busy social life, seeing friends and family regularly and taking regular trips out with my then fiancée and now wife.
Until I woke up one morning with a voice in my head. Well… outside my head, but in my head.
I hear the voice like there is someone in the room, coming from outside of my head and ears, but to everyone else it’s all in my head.
There are two voices – one that likes to comment on everything I do, from ‘He’s making a cup of tea, doesn’t he drink a lot of caffeine?’ to berating me with abuse: “You’re lazy, stupid. Worthless. They pretend to like you, but you know they don’t really.”
The second voice lives mainly in the background, sniggering and agreeing with the first and making it known, non-verbally but through noises, he also thinks I’m a waste of space.
The voices do hold a certain amount of power over me – they are after all caused by my brain – so they have insight into all my insecurities and how I’m feeling at any given moment and they know how to get under my skin. It can be very distressing and often upsetting. One snide comment can set my mood for the rest of the day.
I should be able to take care of myself, but it is a constant battle and I’m so thankful to have someone beside me who understands that at times my condition can make even the most basic tasks impossible.
On top of the’‘positive symptoms’ – that is, additions to my reality like voices – there are negative symptoms – low mood, anxiety, fatigue.
In the past I’ve also heard noises outside – car doors slamming, sirens in the street, people shouting my name. I’ve come to second-guess every noise I hear – how can I know if it’s real?
When I’m at my worst the voices are joined by paranoia and delusional thinking, which thankfully – and because of anti-psychotic medication – I’m not experiencing at the moment.
I glance out of the window to look at the street and suddenly I’m filled with dread.
“That car has been there for three days now. Whose is it? Why is it in the street? It must be someone watching me, but who? My employer? My health insurance? My psychiatrist?”
I know, like a gut feeling, that the car is there for me, and it makes me panic.
I’ve been known to go and look inside cars parked on my street, trying to find the infrared camera that must be watching my house. It’s terrifying.
Like I’ve said, medication definitely helps. I’ve taken a fair share of different anti-psychotics and anti-depressant/ anti-anxiety medication.
It’s powerful stuff and it doesn’t come without side-effects unfortunately. One anti-psychotic I took made me appear drunk within 30 minutes of taking it – I struggled to walk, talk and think straight. All I could do was go to bed and sleep through the side effects.
Amisulpride, which I currently take, causes restlessness and an inability to sit in the same space for any given time. Last year, when I was on a higher dose, my smartwatch told me I was doing 18,000 steps – the equivalent of eight miles – in my living room every day.
Through dosage adjustments, I’ve managed to get on top of the side effects, but I still hear voices.
It’s a vicious circle – if we increase the dose, I won’t be able to sit still, but if we don’t the voices remain. What is the answer? I’ve yet to figure that out.
I’ve been doing quite well for the last four months. I’m working again now, albeit part-time, for a really understanding company that does its best to accommodate my condition.
There wasn’t anything that triggered my condition, it just sort of happened.
The closest thing we’ve highlighted as a trigger is stress from work.
It’s estimated that one in 100 people in the UK will suffer from psychosis at some point in their lifetime.
I’d urge anyone who starts to feel as though there is something wrong to talk to a medical professional, even if you can’t quite put your finger on what’s wrong.
In my experience doctors are great – they don’t judge.
And I’m surrounded by a network of people that love and care about me – my wife, parents and friends. I can talk to any of them, about anything I’m experiencing, and I know I won’t be judged or ridiculed.
I don’t know what my future holds – the psychiatrist has told me there’s a 50/50 chance psychosis will be with me forever, or it might just go away. Here’s hoping I fall into the latter category…