I want to urge ya'll to make space for people with psychosis in your mental health advocacy.
First off, psychosis in itself is an incredibly lonely and isolating experience. Depression and anxiety have made massive strides in general acceptance and that's wonderful, but if someone has hallucinations or delusions, we're still terrified to talk about them.
Isolation breeds alienation breeds suicidality.
If you don't even feel welcome in mental health spaces that are supposed to be meant for you, you're going to feel really, really fucking bad, man. Your brain is already collapsing in on itself and turning your sense of reality into a nightmare, and then you're afraid to talk about it and feel like an alien when you do.
Another example of this - you'll be hanging out in a group of other mentally ill people and they all start talking about how cannabis helps their symptoms, and insist you try it too, (weed is detrimental to psychotic people, no ifs ands or buts, it's like eating peanuts when you have a peanut allergy) and then you're put in the awkward position of either seeming like a shetered stick in the mud or outing yourself as a Crazy Person.
First of all, you're allowed to have boundaries no matter what, but second of all, I shouldn't be afraid to tell people about this aspect of my mental health.
I also really, really want to talk about those of us who suffer suicide-themed delusions. You cannot make blanket statements like "suicidal people don't want to die, they just want to end their suffering" or "this is a permanent solution to a temporary problem", and you can't paint all suicidal people with the same brush.
I've felt your stereotypical "I'm going to be miserable forever, so what's the point" suicidality. And it sucks. I'd argue that it's just as bad as what I'm about to talk about.
But it's an entirely different beast from when I'm convinced the universe has a target on my head, and I can see into a future where my continued existence sets off a series of events that ends in the deaths of my loved ones and innocent strangers. Or when I'm convinced I have some kind of psychic poison that excaberates the mental illnesses of anyone I spend too much time with. Or many years ago, when I was convinced suicide was the only way to enter the Matrix-like world I was Called To.
I know it sounds crazy. (It is!) But these aren't uncommon delusions to have, and newsflash: we're in just as much danger as any "classically" suicidal person, if not more, because goddamn, when the stakes are "everyone I love will die if I don't do this", you might get pretty damn desperate. In that moment, to you, what your faulty brain is telling you is your reality.
Keeping this shit a secret makes it worse. Delusions kind of feed off the fear of being found out; the more it's kept secret, the more it snowballs, at least in my experience. Some of my biggest coping skills include telling my support system (therapist, partner, close friends) when I'm Going Through It, and I'm lucky that I have people I feel safe enough around to even kind of vaguely talk about it with.
The stigma kept me from telling anyone for years, and most psychotic people will, sadly, have a similar story.
It's also intensely traumatic. Even when you're not actively symptomatic, the memories of the things you saw and Knew thought and experienced still haunt you. It took me over a year to open up to my therapist about the first break I had six years ago. I sobbed my fucking eyes out and was shaking so hard.
I know so many others who will tell you they suffered with symptoms alone for so long. Which is really traumatic in and of itself, but it's even worse when you feel like you can't even talk about it when it's over, because everyone looks at you like some Weird Crazy Person. You can't talk about it, because it's not #Relatable and people believe the stigma.
I want you guys to realize one thing: Psychotic people are human.
We have dreams and hobbies and loved ones and goals and histories and complex emotions just like everyone else. We want love and acceptance and contentment just like everyone else. We just have brains that like to Fuck With Us.
And it's lonely. I wouldn't wish it on anyone, but God, I wish it was okay to casually say "I had a bad break last night" or "I'm having a really scary hallucination right now" or "I went through a year-long psychotic break", just as much as it's okay to say "I'm just coming out of a depressive episode" or "I think I'm having an anxiety attack" or "I suffered PTSD for a few years".
Especially in circles meant to discuss mental illness.
When your friend tells you of their terrifying hallucinations, or their delusions that don't make any sense to you, or their paranoias, please, please, just be there and listen, if you can. Ask questions, check in, see how they're doing. Our struggles may look different, but we're still experiencing pain and fear and loneliness.
And if you need to be able to relate to someone to feel compassion, I urge you to relate to that.
