‘I woke up one day with voices in my head – now it’s normal for me’
Former Observer journalist gives a brave and honest account of four years living with psychosis and the daily battle he faces
“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 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 fiancee, 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. And now, writing one email can make me feel like I’ve just finished a 15-hour shift.
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 voice and making it known, nonverbally but through noises, that 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.
If I start to fall behind on little bits of work, or housework, and my wife picks up the slack for me and I start to feel guilty, the main voice pounces.
“You’re a burden, she shouldn’t have to take care of you. Why can’t you take care of yourself? It’s pathetic,” which then makes me feel like it’s true, because in one way, it is.
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 whether or not 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 don’t know how to act because I don’t know what they’re watching for. What are they waiting for me to do? Or not do? I need to act like normal so they don’t know that I know they’re there. But what does normal act like?
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.
And at the time I don’t even stop to consider what that might look like to whoever actually owns the car - a young man peering through the windows. I’m too wrapped up in the belief that this car is in my street to spy on me.
And, of course, the voices play up to the delusion - “They know, they’re watching you and they know you know.”
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 taking a higher dose, my smartwatch told me that I was doing 18,000 steps - the equivalent of eight miles in my living room every day.
I couldn’t sit still. I couldn’t do anything but pace the room. My mind and body wouldn’t let me focus on anything but moving from where I currently was.
Through dosage adjustments, and by splitting the dose throughout the day, 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, however recently I’ve started to hear more voices and am experiencing what my care team call a ‘blip’. At least, that’s what they, and I hope it is, and not at the beginning of another psychotic episode.
I’m working again now, albeit part-time, for a really understanding company that does its best to accommodate my condition and to allow me extra time when I’m having a bad day.
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.
And lockdown hasn’t affected me too much because, mainly due to my condition, I don’t go out that much anyway.
It’s estimated that one in 100 people in the UK will suffer from psychosis at some point in their lifetime. It can appear as depression when it first starts, and often people don’t recognise that there is a problem, they don’t realise that hearing voices is a sign of a medical condition
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. I’ve had to sit across from a doctor and tell him that I want to cut my thumb off, and the reason I didn’t was because I couldn’t be bothered cleaning up blood. That’s a crazy thing to say but at the time it was true.
But doctors don’t make you feel stupid, or like you’re wasting their time. They’re there to help, and that’s what they do. Without them, I don’t think I’d be working again, or even in a stable enough condition to write this article.
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...