For a year now I wake up only to here 3 voices torment my mind. Morning, noon and night and my dreams too. In the beginning they were nice but after a month a yelled out loud “LEAVE ME ALONE!” They have never stopped. They put my mind in a vacuum where I can’t focus on anything but them, or what ever it is they want me to notice. They cause me pain every day. But I had to find away to fight them off. Whether they are real or not and I will never stop finding a way.
First thing I did was to find out what they actually do to me. I made a list of what they say to me or do to me and found out that it all fell under 5 categories. 1- images (either in my mind or out in the world) 2-sound (in my mind or als out in the world) 3-physical (sometimes the make me feel they swim through me or cause me intense pain) 4-emotions (being belligerent they want me to feel negative about everything) 5-thoughts (they have shown me that they can make me think as if it were my own thoughts).
As soon as I found that one out all they can use it is to taunt me with it. Most every moment of my life they want to let me no that no matter what I won’t be able to ignore them and they will make it as hard as possible until I comply… comply with what? They don’t exist, I insist. But they laugh. Then whenever they show me an image, I say to myself, “that is an image projection”. Whenever they voiced something to me I would say that is a sound projection… But why couldn’t I shake the feeling that I was always dealing with them? Because they have shown me that they can simulate any reaction in me. They make me drop tings or eat things I don’t want to eat. Twitch my limbs. But I refuse to say my life is bad. What choice do I have.
I am trying to get to the city and get assessed. But I don’t know what anyone can do for me. I don’t believe they are real. Thank you for your video. If someone is undergoing the lies I went through. Perhaps the strategy of reducing what they do to its basic reason why to prove they exist, which they don’t. And they simulate the conceptual understanding of them being present no matter what. It’s not a cure but it gives them a run for their money. I will never stop finding a way to rid them somehow. thanx for your video on schizophrenia
I here voices that are stronger then my own thoughts. They don’t stop at speaking to me. they cause me physical pain and mental anguish. But instead of being a victim, I sought to be a fighter and uncover what I could about how and why it happens. I feel I have some helpful advice for anyone who may suffer the same problem as I do. What follows is a brief story of my descent into hearing the voices and how I learned to fight the lie of their existence. We need not suffer from their antagonistic onslaughts. I found out why.
When they first arrived, it was a gradual “approach” to my attention and they were nice. They would add an occasional comment to whatever I noticed. After a couple of months I decided to speak to them directly whenever they made their comments. They were sparring with knowledge about themselves, as if to tell me it didn’t matter so long as they were included with my daily observations. Full conversations only occurred when I asked them why they were talking to me. They told me they speak to everyone but only people like myself were able to recognize it. They would add new developments over the weeks. They would show me visualizations of what I noticed or thought about. And gave me images in my mind of what they looked like. Their was three of them. A family. An old man. His wife and their “adopted” daughter who acted younger for her age, she looked 45 years old or so.
Before long they were in my head constantly. I would wake up and my thoughts would go to them. And they would act as if my thinking of them had called them. I always felt a strange guilt as if I was troubling them to speak with me. Why? I did not know. Were they ghost? What was happening to me? When I would dream, they displayed a life of their own that would seem as if I was invited to witness. I would see a large house they lived in. A dark dimly lit place where they interacted. They gave me the sense that I was being taken under their wing.
My father used to speak with “a guide” in his mind. He called him Rabbi. I would ask my father questions when I was young to get answers to anything. What are ghost? What is space like? My father would reply as if he was an intermediary between my questions and his guide. It was fascinating but I was a kid and didn’t put much stock into it. I figured what I was going through now must be like what my father went through. I found out later that as a teenager my father was hospitalized for mental and psychological problems. I just accepted the presence of these voices in my life and figured they would let me know about themselves when they were ready.
Their involvement in my mind got heavy and they spoke to me constantly. This never caused me mental fatigue. I suddenly had much more energy then I ever had. I could stay up all hours of the day and night. I never slept. I would occasionally catch a 20 minute nap. I even felt I could do more then the average man. I could jump up to a ledge 5 feet off the ground. I stopped eating. Maybe I would have a banana twice a week. I only drank water or tea. I stopped drinking alcohol and also stopped smoking. Just like that. Overnight. I thought of nothing else but my interactions with them. I lived in my head with their presence and they seemed to be pleased by my participation.
I went to work one night, I worked the late shift in a factory and one night I had forgotten my protective glasses. I knew I couldn’t walk on the line with out them. Instead of asking to borrow some what came to my mind was to walk home which was twelve miles away in the next town. I started at ten pm and walked the entire way down the highway. And as always the voices were their to keep me company.
The factory was a good job for me. It was hard to hold a conversation with my mind so distracted all the time. At the factory I would sit for hours in front of a loud machine by myself until 6am in the morning. Then I would leave with my ride back to the town I lived. My only concern walking that twelve miles was making sure my ride saw me as I walked and didn’t drive all the way only not to find me. Just as I arrived to town at the highway turnoff my ride saw me. He was just leaving to get me and was shocked to see me. He thought I was a ghost as it was still dark. He didn’t understand why, of course, but was understanding as he knew my condition. My legs were stiff and tired. I was fired the next day for not showing.
Another time I was in Los Angeles with a friend to visit his mother. It had been a long time since I had seen the ocean but we were only going to Riverside county. At a fast food joint my friend went inside to get us some food. The voices asked me if I was ready to see the ocean and I said I was. They asked me what I was waiting for and I simply opened the door and started heading west. I walked and walked. In my pocket was a twenty dollar bill. I had lost weight since I stopped eating, over 40 lbs.
My hope was to find a bus that would take me to downtown LA but could not find the right one. The one I got on took me south and was only going to return to where it picked me up. I asked what bus I could catch in order to go west and he pointed out a stop around the corner. I bought several drinks as it was summer and hot. I was thirsty all the time. I waited for an hour or so when the bus past my stop without stopping. Instead it stopped half a block down at a different colored stop (I guess there were several types of transportation service).
I threw my bag against the ground in anger but then laughed as if it was actually quite funny. I decided then to walk as far west as I could until a better service would provide itself. I walked down Whittier blvd until I reached the 605 freeway. It was sunset by then and I figured I should find a bus soon. I caught one and asked if the driver was going to downtown LA. She said no. I then asked for an all day pass. After I bought it she told me it wouldn’t work for the bus line I wanted further west. The LA service. LA has so many cities. When we arrived at the end of her line I asked her if there was a subway nearby. My hope was to catch the train to downtown or even keep going to the beach. She said there was one around the corner. I thanked her and she said “I hope to see you again.” What was that suppose to mean?
As I turned the corner I saw the big familiar sign that said Subway Eat Fresh. It was a subway sandwich shop. I sighed and asked someone for a bus that would take me to downtown LA and was directed a few blocks down. It was twilight and there was a homeless man waiting at the stop. He was older and mentally troubled. I never equated what “crazy people” went through as what I was going through. He kept speaking with himself. The voices told me I better watch out for the crazy man, that he was unstable. Just then the old man slammed his fist against the metal bench area right behind me. I looked at him defiantly as if to say ‘back off fool.’ How ironic.
My bus was late and the stop piled with frustrated people who kept their distance from the crazy man. The bus arrived and I finally got downtown. I had a dollar fifty left after I bought my third day pass for the day but finally I had a pass that would work on the subway trains.
Once downtown, it was now night time. I walked down 5th street to main. I was in search of the train. Everyone approached me. Crack heads. Drug pushers. I asked the ones I thought I could talk to for directions to the train. They all said something different. I eventually saw a prostitute outside of a hotel and she asked me for a light. I didn’t smoke anymore and apologized but asked her for directions. She finally pointed me in the right direction.
Once at the station I gazed at a map. The voices mostly had my head in a vacuum and perhaps that’s why my reasoning was numbed half the time. I always knew who I was and what I was doing. I just felt life was a grand adventure. That I was grateful to not have limitations that would stop me from seeing the ocean if I wanted to. I thought of people in hunter gatherer times. How they were inhibited and only struggled for survival and nothing else. Why couldn’t we still live this way. I didn’t eat. I didn’t suffer for food. I didn’t sleep, so I didn’t suffer for shelter. I had my legs that could walk forever and felt as free as I ever had. But it didn’t occur to me then that I was suffering a delusion. The people in ancient times were always aware of their surroundings. A predator could be lurking anywhere and my mind was in a fog of dealing with the voices. They commented on everything I noticed.
Just like looking at this sign. The map of the train routes. I saw the colors for each train. I saw the markers for each stop. I knew I was looking at this but I couldn’t understand what I was supposed to do. What does it mean? How do I extract from it my next move? It took me over a half hour to realize what I had already knew. The dots represent the train stops. I was at one of them and needed to get on the one headed for LAX if I was to get to the beach. I got on the train and headed west.
Halfway a group of youngsters were trying to push pirated CD music to the passengers. I declined. They started to get rowdy and yelled across the train. The other passengers looked scared. As if hoping they wouldn’t cause them trouble. I was too but knew ignoring them would show weakness. When they got close to me I asked one of them if he had any Tupac Cds. He didn’t and I asked if he sold any movies. They bought the routine and then got off at the next stop.
At LAX I wanted to change into my new clothes I had bought the day before. I carried them in a small bag and walked to the airport. I must have picked the wrong way because I found myself walking up a 12 inch curb under the runway with zooming cars head on 4 lanes traveling close to 45 miles on hour. To dispel the oddness of the situation I said out loud the make and model or year of the cars that zoomed by. I hoped a police officer wouldn’t drive by wondering what I was doing at midnight walking in head on traffic. When I got to the other side it took me another hour to find a terminal and a bathroom. I went in a stall and changed my clothes. The voices warned me not to look like a terrorist and get noticed for odd behavior. *I know now they always want to instill a self conscious in me to keep the focus on me instead of them.* After I walked to the sink and pulled out a razor I had in my pocket – my last possession. I shaved without a mirror, copying the routine of shaving as best I could. At this I learned to perform well. To this day I need no mirror to shave and do it perfectly. All these strange developments in my life since the voices came around.
I threw away my old clothes and now had only a dollar fifty to my name. The women voice told me to place a nickel on the sink for good luck. I did so.
Out side I walked to Sepulveda blvd then headed south for the next street to the beach. My legs felt fine but my feet began to feel the weight of all my walking. I passed a lunch truck near a warehouse and was thirsty. I was just thinking I wanted to buy a coke when a dollar appeared on the sidewalk in front of me. The voices took credit for it and I went to buy one. It cost a dollar. *The voices always tried to convince me they had some mystical quality about them by always taking credit for a fortuitous event.* They would also tell me things I would see later or hear later. I can’t really explain that. Maybe coincidence. The woman would always tell me whenever I thought of the extra in anything, that it was “an added bonus.” She also would tell to smile all the time. When I walked past the runway, on the top side this time, the woman told me to look up and I saw a chevron with techron billboard. The picture was a cute little liquid container truck that carried an extra shorter trailer meant to be the techron. The sign said “it was an added bonus.” I looked down to the building below and it was a dentistry called “Dr. Smile”. I told the woman I was going to call her Dr. Smile for now on. I walked and walked wondering when I was going to get to the next street that looked as if it would take me to the ocean. I finally found one and walked past an enormous electric power plant. Then power lines over head made a constant electric sound. The voices said then that the sound is similar to how my presence is to them. I didn’t quite know what they meant and they offered I was electric to them. The power lines were like the world and people were like the electricity flowing through them but I was like the electricity that made noise as it passed by. It never quite cleared things up as to where or what they were but I didn’t care. Like always the distraction of the voices was something amazing at that time. It took my mind off any inconvenience we normally took for granted. In my mind I was having the time of my life.
I was thirsty again and a soda machine showed up off to the side in front of a business. I went their to buy a coke but was short a nickel. I thought of the nickel the woman wanted me to leave for good luck. “Don’t be such a crier”, said the voice. I shrugged my shoulders and continued my journey. Over the last hill I could smell the ocean. I knew I was near. I finally saw a sign that said Redondo beach. I went through an odd looking town with cobblestone streets. It was 3 in the morning. Some Mexicans stumbled out of a bar and were happy and drunk. I said Buenos Noches. Soon I had only one more hump and their it was. The crashing of the waves sounding soothing. I had finally made it to the pacific ocean. The women told me to run. I did so but walked calmly when I got to the edge of the beach. A sign said the beach was off limits after hours but no one was around. I took off my shoes and the sand felt cold on their skin.
I gazed at the waves hitting the ocean. The women said I should have taken off my clothes. I wasn’t particularly cold but the wind was a little cool. I declined. I remembered all the movies of people who drowned themselves. They would take off their clothes and leave them on the beach before swimming out as far as they could. I asked if that was what they meant and she replied, “You could join us.” She said that was how their daughter had joined them. I said suicide is not my thing. That they were barking up the wrong tree. She told me that she was my ocean and that one day I would go to her. I just sat their and watched the white escape off the dark water crashing against the sand. A small boat could be heard in the distance. A small red light went from left to right. I thought maybe it was the coast guard patrolling the shore. I imagined infrared scanners being able to see me. The old man said they don’t care about some guy this early. I could be a jogger.
When grey of dawn first broke I wanted a power nap and my eyes scanned for the best place. There was a rock path that went out to the water, but on the sand it blocked the wind on one side. I saw a brilliant purple and green color near the spot and the voice said the lights mean it was a good place to nap. I did but couldn’t fall asleep. I just lay there until light. When finally their was enough light to call it day, I saw several small bug like crabs that jumped from the wet sand . They had the ability to vanish instantly under the sand. I wondered if any had crawled on me. I walked along the side until I found a bench. I sat down and slipped into a darkness interspersed with flames that kept cracking all around me. I could smell pine needles and then smoke. I heard the sound of a plane engine approaching and a giant bucket flew right overhead and dropped its load of water over the flames. I heard the sound of steam that merged with the sound of the waves on the ocean. I came to and realized I had blacked out for a moment and told the voices I had just scene a forest fire. They said they knew, taking credit for the images and sounds.
I regretted throwing away my old clothes because I was wearing shorts but now was wearing pants which looked out of place at the ocean. I rolled up my pants legs and shirt sleeves and continued enjoying the sun on the ocean, carrying my shoes in my hands. Occasionally a black shadowy appearance of them would fly around me as it always did. Despite their human appearance in my mind they also showed me they were abstract in nature always appearing as anything . But some of the appearances were common such as the black shadowy dot that swam through the air around me.
I’d see it as often as their images in my head. I believe it was meant to convince me that they could appear in the world, and to investigate the people or things I would notice. No one else saw this. Not even the birds that adjusted to my weird gate up the beach. The voices said I looked monstrous. To me it was as if they were saying they were looking through the point of view of the birds. They had said just before I noticed the birds moving to the side. I immediately adjusted my gate to a fresh attitude. Someone who had just arrived to the beach. I walked all the way to Santa Monica pier. At Marina del Rey I paused to watch the sailors leave and return. I got up to use the restroom. When I walked in three troublemakers were scratching up the mirrors. They left the place a mess and immediately signaled each other to watch out. It was so terrible in their that I didn’t bother to use it and left. I headed back for my bench when the voices said I should run. I didn’t feel the situation warranted this and sat down again. In order to appear as if I wasn’t a threat I took off my shirt and laid it on the side walk. Only a bum or a crazy man would display his clothing in public. I bent down to untie my shoes and the three hoodlums walked by. It worked for although they told me, “You took a wrong turn, fool!” they kept walking uninterested.
It was almost sunset when I got to Santa Monica and it seemed to me that the beach would not be the ideal place to spend a night. But no train went to the beach. The closest one was the LAX stop and I didn’t feel like walking back. I should have. You see, I figured since I had no money, I could take a chance ride on the train. If I get caught it would only be a fine. At this thought the women said she would allow it as if to say by some power of hers she could make sure I won’t get caught. I found my way to Wilshire blvd and headed east. Again I walked and walked. Night time soon came I walked through ghettos. I heard the frantic and condemning sermon from a Mexican pasture preaching the torments of hell fire and damnation over a microphone. On another block several people were screaming and yelling non-stop at each other no more then 15 feet from me. They all yelled at once and sounded as if they were beating somebody. Instead of looking I just kept walking. After several hours I saw the lights of downtown on the horizon. The women told me earlier that it wasn’t good to ask how far I had to reach the train. Now I knew why. I had to walk to downtown to catch it and probably would have decided something different had I realized how much further it was. Around midnight I reached the train station. The P.A. announced that everyone should keep a suspicious eye on anything that seemed out of place like an unattended bag.
On the map I saw the route leaving for the San Fernando valley and knew it to be one of LA’s least dangerous places. But the train ended its service, at that time of night, at Universal city. At the station I looked for a bathroom. By then I was walking with a limp. I had rashes and my legs were sore. I never dwelled on anything for it would only drag down the mood. A mood that I always seemed to share with the voices. And they were constantly reassuring. I feared nothing. Their was a sign that said the bathroom was upstairs. A figure of a man on a blue plaquered. I took the stairs. Outside yielded no bathroom. I walked down the stairs and limped toward the bottom floor. Their was the same blue plaquered. But I found no bathroom. I made my way back toward the stairs. A man in a uniform was sweeping the floor. His radio was sounding with a voice that was saying, “.be careful. He might be a convict.” As I just got to him he quietly said into his shoulder mic “He’s here.” I knew for some reason they were speaking about me. Perhaps my appearance and tortured walk. I saw the blur plaquered again and realized that it meant “people this way” which looked similar to the men’s restroom plaquered. The LA train service does not provide a restroom. How odd. I walked down Ventura blvd and saw a popular restaurant that was open 24 hours. Years ago I used to take the girls I dated their after the homecoming games. I wanted to find work there but knew my appearance was inappropriate. I used its restroom and continued on my way. I found a small space between a wall and a bush. I sat down and took my shoes off. I looked up and saw in a tree the image of one of the voices. The daughter was smiling. She pointed her finger at me and pretended to fire a gun. She made a cute “peearn” sound of a flying bullet. She always did that to me. I waited their recovering from the walk and finally took another power nap. I slept for an hour or so and got up just before dawn. I freshened up in a restroom. Then hit the pavement in search of work. Everywhere I went I filled out applications but had no phone number to give. I thought to just bug them everyday until someone hired me.
The next day was the same before. I never wondered what my appearance was. My face had stubble all over. My clothes weren’t in the best shape, but it was a button collar shirt and matching slacks. I was at a loss. What was I to do? The women showed me an image of a banner. I couldn’t make out what it said. As if realizing this she said I should go apply at the community college and see if they would provide student housing. I thought it was a good idea. When I reached the southwest corner I saw the same banner she had shown me an hour before saying to enroll now. I walked with the air of my future in front of me. I paused at the edge of the campus to take in the sight. When I took a step the women said, even though I hadn’t offered anything, “let’s just say that your braver then I am.” It was a grueling affair. I couldn’t figure out which line to stand in. When I got to the window they expected I had gone through processes or at least knew what line I was in. There was nothing indicating which line I should be in. One lady gave me a small piece of paper when I said I wanted to apply. She told me to go fill it out. Ok. I found a chair and the paper was no bigger then a dollar bill. I gazed at it in wonder. It was asking what class I was changing, when it ended and what professor taught the class. Then it asked for my student ID number. Finally the women voice said “.just sign and date it.”. So I got back in line and waited. I approached a man in a window and he asked me what class I was changing. I said I was applying for school. He scratched his head and I offered that the paper was from the women at the next window. That’s what she gave me. He told me I need to go to a office at the north end of the campus apply for aid. I went to the building and a women told me to come back around 7pm. I waited the four hours in the outdoor cafeteria. Several students were hanging out, chatting. I gazed at the San Gabriel mountains. Sometimes I could gaze for hours and the time would go by in a snap. But I was disturbed by the loud talking of the students. They took notice of me, or I thought they did. I heard them wondering what I was doing their. For some reason something in me made me not want to look at the people I felt were talking about me. *Today I know the feeling that people are talking about me is the voice’s way of projecting a self conscious mood rather then examining the validity of my perception.* It didn’t make sense. I could confront hardcore “crazies” on the street but not face the many people who seemed to be talking about me behind my back. I heard them laughing at me being their. To keep my mind off the outside world I reread all the pamphlets I collected on schooling. But they kept talking about me. They were saying what could I possibly care to read in those papers. That I must be compensating for not knowing what to do. I looked up at them as if to say ‘are you for real.’ One of them was looking at me but they said nothing. When I turned my attention to the papers they started again. I got up to get away from the ridiculous scene. Their was a water fountain near the exit and I drank my fill and left to a quieter scene. As I left a girl was talking apologetic, that she must have hurt my feelings and probably shouldn’t have said those things. It is not my style to confront anyone’s character.
*To this day, although I laugh at it now, I always here people in the background talking about me. Or the radio is talking about me. Or the TV. I ignore it all. They used to fill me with such tension over my observations. It was why I never ate or never slept. These voices fight to stay in my notice. They engendered from the beginning my participation. What areas in my mind they should have access to. They sought to make it as hard as possible to uncover their maneuvers. All my routines would have their repetitive touch. They stealthily moved in until all I did was think or talk to them. They created whole scenes in my mind they used in constant routine. At first it as if I was spending the energy to create the imagery of the locations they “played” with me. But that was their lie. They provided the scenery. Another way of calling my participation. They can simulate any action in me. They moved my limbs independently of my will. Give me thoughts I don’t want to think. And simulate my own emotional, physical and conceptual reaction (as if it was me) but its not. Very important to know this.* At the time I didn’t know any of this.
I waited at a bench near some trees. Some people walked by. They were talking about me. They said to each other laughing, “I bet he feels safe their.” They weren’t apart of those students in the cafeteria. They just came out of nowhere. When the time came I went to apply for aid. I waited with several people in line. I ask the lady in front of me if I could get my student ID in this line. She spoke softly but I thought I made out “If you have to ask me then you don’t need to be going to school’” Huh? The guy behind me seemed so agitated. Why? He kept shaking his head in disapproval. When I got to the window they said I needed a student number. That I should go to the line I was already in before and get one then come back. Sigh.
I did and got a student number. By then the student loan building was closed. Come back tomorrow. Ok. I headed back for Ventura blvd. After asking for work in a pizza joint, I sat down at a bus stop and saw a reflective glass sign. I looked at myself. Wow! My clothes, although I had seen them all day were in fact in terrible shape. How did I not notice this? I even smelled horrible. It all made sense, the weird reactions from people. My hands were black with dirt. How could this be? I had seen my hands all day. The voices said they helped me not to notice. I was on an adventure and didn’t want to spoil it for me. I got up and went to a restroom. I really was a mess. I had never been this filthy in my life. The smell was unmistakable. People in the restroom with me were making sounds of amazed horror. I told the voices if they were so damn magical why not give me a shower? I was finally letting go of this mad spell and started the complaints I probably should have generated before. I wanted a hot shower. The women said soon I will have what I want, “Too bad. It was just getting good.” Whatever that meant. I didn’t completely appreciate their presence since half of what they told me was antagonistic in some way. I didn’t know the half of it.
It was nighttime then. I left and headed down Moorpark when right then, who drives by, but my friend who went to visit his mother in Riverside county. He stopped and jumped out.
“Man! What happened to you?”
“Boy am I glad to see you.”, I said.
“Dude. I thought you had vanished off the face of the earth. Nobody knew where you were.”
“I did. That’s exactly what happened to me.”, I joked, ” I vanished and only suddenly returned.”
“You don’t look so good.. Wow. You smell like shit.”
We went to a hotel and he lent me some new clothes. The shower was the best. I threw away my clothes, but kept the Nike air Jordan’s. They were really comfortable.
My life was nothing else but my participation with the voices. Back in Utah where I lived, I was fortunate enough to stay with a really good friend of mine. He knows what I am going through and has provided food and shelter. I tried to work but everyone of the workers were talking about me behind my back. Even the boss. By then I knew it was fake but I couldn’t make it stop. One day I found something that stopped it. I’ll get to that later. My mind entered a vacuum. Where I couldn’t concentrate. I’d literally forget my next step. I would be asked to do something 3 times. I was even asked if I was on drugs. I never do drugs and don’t drink. Soon I couldn’t differentiate between what they thought or said about me or what I envisioned or perceived in error. One day I was told to empty the metal bins full of discards and the very moment I turned around and took a step, I forgot completely what I was just asked to do. My boss was still behind me. I knew I was on his crap list but should I turn around and ask him for something he just told me to do? I turned around. He looked up at me sternly. I stood there wondering what to say.
I imagined, “Hey boss. I hear voices. My mind is full of fog. Can you say it again to me.”
Instead I smiled as if to silently apologize and left the building. I walked home hearing them tell me that no matter what I should at least make an attempt to salvage the situation. Although I respected it as advice, it was really beginning to take its toll on me. Always something to say to me. Always telling me why I fail. What I could have done better. Even their jokes were in some part meant to entertain them rather then me and I’m suppose to laugh in participation or in awe of them.
When I got in they said, “Why the long face?”
“LEAVE ME ALONE!” I yelled.
There was a silence in that room I was not to know since.
The next day I applied for another job at a fast-food place but wondered about my effectiveness as a worker. My friend is very understanding. My god! What would I have done without a friend like this. I am very lucky. Without someone who is completely understanding I never would have found the opportunity to uncover the strategy of the voices or the operation of this altered perception for truly there is a pattern.
I then went to the local school in salt lake city to apply for a loan. But my mind instantly entered a fog. I couldn’t understand the words the lady was speaking to me. I was facing her. Her mouth was moving. I heard the sound of her voice. I still remember its accent even. Its pitch and tone. But not a word of it could I register. I would notice this then shift somehow to hear something when I caught “. You’ll be walking down to level c.”, “C” I held onto “C” as if that was listening and I realized again I had completely lost what she was saying. Physically my head felt as if it was a head cold, but not in the sinus area. Around the cranium and temples there was a fog like pressure squeezing out my concentration, All I could think to do was agree with a nod to everything she said.
I left and told the voices, “You know, I really don’t think I want to hear you anymore.”
“We like you. We think you will do great. We know how to do anything you want. Give it time.”
“Actually, you know, I think its time we said our goodbyes and part ways.”
“We will give you another opportunity. Please reconsider.”
“I know what awaits me. I don’t care. I don’t want any help. Not from you
or anyone.”
I even reminded them that according to their opinion people should need no one to help them. But no matter what I say they always had a follow up. As if to anticipate every little possible thing I could say to them they had their follow-up. They had little antidotes”If people only had a little push, they could accomplish more.”
I pointed out that my life had gotten worse since they came. Sure I was living paycheck to paycheck but I liked my job, my little apartment. I had a modest social life and enjoyed my hobbies. I was functional. I lived and dreamed like everyone else. There was nothing wrong with that. To put myself in impossible odds just to see if I could perform under duress, “and do it well.” as they would say it, was taking its toll on me. The daughter was always insulting.
“I think your disgusting.”
“Well, be that as it may I’m actually not disagreeing with you.” I told her that in fact I’m on her side. And then I knew I had them. I pleaded with her to beg her parents to leave me alone then. At this she listened as if in reflection.
“You know I don’t want to be with you anymore so why even insult me. If you all left then you wouldn’t have to engage my ’slowness’ anymore.”
The old man said I had potential. I only needed fine tuning. On and On like this.
Since I took the insultive opinion of the daughter as an ally in the matter, the old man turned on me and began to persecute my desire to leave them. Playing good cop and bad cop. *Notice that my approach to leaving them was manipulated into accepting that I was wrong to ask this (taking
in the insultive opinion of the daughter).*
For three days I pleaded with them to leave me. They always giving me the impression that they really knew better then I under some strange other worldly authority. At that time I had only one option. I owned a small boat off the Florida keys. I knew how to fish and I wouldn’t impose myself
on anyone their. I bought a bus ticket and left. Everybody talked about me. I couldn’t believe so many people could choose me as their subject matter. I would turn politely, because I wasn’t sure if I was really hearing it or not, every time I would catch a glimpse of a face looking in my direction. But I never seen them actually saying it.
Scary crap too. People wanting to hurt me, or rob me. Although I made sure not to keep my eye from watching the scene, it only added to my suspicious mood. I told myself it was crazy to think what they were saying is really happening. I certainly lost coherence in conversation before, why would this be any different. I tried to sleep on the long bus ride as long as I could. With my eyes closed one of the people getting on the bus slammed my chair with their hand as he passed, jarring me awake. Did that really happen?
I said to the voices, “Look. Officially and finally I am declaring I do not want to have you around any more. Whatever that may mean, I don’t care. Get lost.”
The old man replied, “Please reconsider.” He even asked if I wanted him to beg. I said sure, just to see what he’d do and he gave me a mock but strained on his knees begging posture. Their was an air of knowing better then I in it.
I insulted him for the first time. I said if you really understand that respect is needed from a student then I will never give it to you.
“You can not deny that I am perfectly sincere that I will never respect you ever again. I will insult you every time you speak to me. And no matter what, if you are to be effective with me, you at least must get some reasonable participation from me. So, screw you. Go to hell.”
I even joked and said, “Get thee behind me Satan.”
The old man replied that I should understand why he is going to tell me his next statement, which was simply, “We don’t want to.”
And I ignored him, probably for the first time since their arrival.
He laughed and said he wanted me dead.
It dawned on me then that these voices were in no way helpful. That I had been tricked by their performance and they really are not going to leave.
I also realized that I really did have a problem. I am going to have to contend with these voices and have no say in the matter. I knew nothing about schizophrenia. I believed these voices were real. I didn’t believe in ghost. I didn’t think they were from outer space. They said they exist as forces inserted into the world from something outside of human perception. If they are not real then that still could be true. I see not where they are from or where they actually are. Only what they choose to show me. They seek with veracious intent to convince me that they are real. That I will bend to them. I have no choice but to go along with their intrusion. And they are antagonistic and will never cease.
From that time on they have done nothing else but torment all of my senses. They show me horrid images daily. They cause me physical pain all over my body. They never cease adding something to all of my thoughts.
The trip to Florida was great for me. It gave me a respite of some kind from the constant participation with them. During the course of our interaction they conjured meeting places in my mind. A room where I would see one of them to my left (the old man), The daughter who traveled around the scene, sometimes becoming other people as roll playing. The mother was to the right on a coach with a picture of an ocean above it hanging on the wall. Their were others too. They kept showing up in these places as if to say I can’t ignore them, look at our history together. The images of these places was clear and always fresh. It bothered me that these places existed in my mind then. I had to do something so I envisioned stabbing them every time they showed up. The old man had a routine of laughing at my jokes in the same posture. I imagined him being flushed down the toilet when he showed up. I wanted these images to be a disservice to them rather then a weapon. And sure enough they stopped using them.
The ocean cleared my mind. I had something to occupy my attention other then the voices. I fished for food. To be busy was all that mattered. I rowed on a skiff all around the islands. I called my uncle in another state who had retired and was building a garage. He invited me to help him and since he was old I accepted. I sold my boat and caught a bus to the Midwest.
My uncle was one of those guys who demands a lot of attention. You have to listen to all his stories no matter how many times he repeated them. He talks through all the movies and through dinner, but even he was a good respite from the voices. I welcomed his conversation.
It was then that it occurred to me to fight these voices. It couldn’t hurt to find out as much as I could. If I couldn’t get them to leave, could I find a way to make it hard for them or even not worth their effort? What do I have to loose?
After that summer, the garage was built, and my uncle wanted to charge more for my stay then I thought it was worth. I paid him and left. I went back to Utah to stay with a good friend. I grew up with him and he understood what I was going through. He was supportive and allowed me to stay with him while I figured out my situation. Without him I knew this voices thing would have gotten the better of me. What he provided was the time to examine what they were doing to me. Without the distractions of the world I went to work charting down what was happening to me. Immediately I realized their was only one position to take to this thing. As a fighter one is to observe the routines of their enemies. Assess their strengths and weaknesses.
They definitely have a pattern. They answer my mind with routine appearances and responses. I began to make a list of all the things they said to me in routine. I once worked in a restaurant for a guy from New Jersey. He had an overbearing personality with an east coast attitude. He loved to talk and capture the attention of anyone around him. His name was Joey. He never stopped talking, kind of like these voices. And loved to talk and had a routine of sayings he repeated at the appropriate times. After spending daily contact with him I ended up hearing his way of talking in my head. I was young and impressionable but the guy was no saint and liked to short you at the end of the day. It was due to over saturation that my speech pattern would end up repeating his. Everyone there did so, especially since he was such a showman. One day we began to write down what he said repetitively on the backboard in the back room. It was called the Joey rap. Everyone got into it. Joey one day said if we could write one hundred sayings then he would “blow his brains out”. Needles to say we added them fervently. We got to 165 before we pulled it down. We all had a laugh.
Here I was again writing another list, more then 10 years later. I called it “the Carlos code” since the old man was said his name was Carlos. Sure enough I found a pattern. By the end of the second day, old man Carlos said, “damn you, we adjusted!” Letting me know he acknowledged my ability to fight him. From then on he broke up his words. Everything had to seem sincere words rather than repetitive slogans. Only when I participated in conversation did they offer new dialogue but from then on everything theysaid had to appear unpredictable.
He made up for it in images. They all stepped up their image projections. Either out in the world or in my mind. They set up routines of presentation. The dark shadow would jump away after saying something calculating and low as if to say I left accomplishing what I wanted. (He wants me to know this) Only to have a slight pause where I’m suppost to know the shadow is going to come right back in a flash, his smiling image satisfied in saying he will never leave. The pause before his return is meant for me to notice that I am being made to know their presence. Rather then their predictability is their weakness. That was another of their adjustments. Spending time (supposedly without my notice) that they rework how my mind assesses their weaknesses. They always answered what I learned about them with a design meant to convince me otherwise. And to work all of my observations into another angle to prove to me that I was wrong in making my observation.
In a rude tone they would say, “Did you think we would make it easy for you?” Even now they cause me pain as I write this.
All of their words I found fell under a specific reason for their use. A great discovery. They either were a repeated statement, said as responses to my observations, or statements about the future. I realized then that something that otherwise doesn’t exist has to reaffirm its existence in order to give it continuity. Their presence means “something I deal with”. Something with a history. A past giving its present validity. And often they spoke of their future with me. Statements of what they will say or do with me when I thought about the future, or simply a promise of one thing or another they will do to me or in general.
I came to learn of these as Past Projections, Present Projections and Future Projections. My computer has a program where you can make videos out of images and songs or sound bites. You pull down the media and display it on “a timeline”: where in the video that image should show up or where the next song should play. What they did to me was like adding their own images or sounds into the “timeline of my daily life”. The things they need to add has to reaffirm why they exist. And it addresses why I have to deal with them even though that is a lie. If their images were out of place or what they said to me had to be inserted at a different time then their continuity would crumble. Their non-existence would be plane to see. They have to utilize their appearances with the appropriate timing and tension necessary to convince my attention that they are real. That means I can predict all of their moves. I took the mystery out of what they do. But I had to struggle to reaffirm this to myself.
Because I was always called to notice their presence I took action and would say out loud whenever they said something, “That’s a past projection” or “That’s a future projection.”
Their adjustment was to involve me in conversation about their past projections. A follow-up meant to show me that I was just as locked into dealing with them before I found this out. Timing is their one weapon. The way they execute all of their projections is they way they seek to convince my mind of the validity of their presence. I remind them that they actually don’t exist.
“So why say it?” they would say.
My ability to predict why they did everything became crystal clear. Their whole strategy was based on convincing my mind they exist, then to involve my mind with them.
They never ceased a conversational presence. They need it in order to keep me interested no matter how inconvenient their presence is. Inevitably since they didn’t actually venture it, my mind turned to why or how do they always get me to converse with them. On the one hand they are always there so it doesn’t hurt the matter. They say, “Or does it.”
They would challenge me to stop talking to them. In figuring out why they say this or show me that, I began a routine of insulting or downplaying each of their projections. I felt it would weaken their chances to use it again. Of course they had to defend them but usually moved on to another since the number of projections on all 5 of my senses are endless.
I then went on to make a list of all their projections. Images, sounds, even emotions. If I heard a funny joke I would laugh but would feel them interspersing annoyance or displeasure. If I heard something sad about someone they would give me emotions of feeling weak and unstable.
I wrote it all down. I soon found they all fell under 5 categories
1-images, either in my mind or out in the world
2-sounds- either as a voice in my mind or as auditory sounds supposedly
emitted from the world or people
3-physical- Usually pain, but any number of physical pressure, or numbness, or jittery nerves, or even my thoughts turning into a pathway they would run across with little feet. I actually felt a track of thinking in my mind physically being run over by feet! I also would feel them swim through me.
4-emotional
5- reaction. I was soon to discover they simulate my reactions.
At first they simulated my reactions to the world. For instance, the way I felt after my favorite movie, they would simulate the same feeling if I heard a boring commercial. Or the opposite. If I’m alone, a constant feeling of dealing with people.
So whenever they projected an image or a physical feeling I would reduce it to its purpose (always charging in this way with their non existence), by saying, “That’s an image projection.”, or “That’s a physical projection.” Make your own list of what they do. Categorize it. And put in the order of where in your 5 senses it occurred. And then find out how it causes us to believe they exist. They will be clever. Ignore all their cleverness and false aggression. Know your enemy. Your enemy is not them but what you are made to perceive. What you discover is not your problem but your solution. Because of the many months of dealing with them daily and due to their nagging insistence, I had to spend a month saying to myself the definition of why I just perceived is intended to change my fight against them and my knowledge of their non-existence.
After a month of referring to these projections as just that, a mere projection, I dissolved the potency of them. It became much harder for them to use them. They had to adjust. They seek to exist. If what they use allows us to see why they don’t exist, they will be forced to use other means.
They also tried to make me believe that what I was doing was trying to make them stop rather then ignoring what is being said and done and categorizing it in out mind. Don’t believe the lie.
They always want to take credit for anything the world presented. To minimize the amount of energy expended, they made sure to grab everything with only the amount of force required. Yet they can add lots of intensity to their projections. Meant to say as much as possible and yet cover their tracts with distractions.
It won’t be easy, but the rule of thumb is, they have to convince you they exist. Everything I witness from them is meant to convince me they exist. They will fight to stay in my mind. And they constantly reaffirm their presence or why I will fail to reduce them to a mere static.
By then I was set on reducing them to background noise, rather then what they constantly reaffirm, full-fledged participation on my part. Like robotic perfection, they know how to answer every thing I uncover as my weapon with its precise opposing factor. They tried to convince me that that was something special for them since I had the world to distract me from my fight against them and they don’t. But I know that even though they do answer every weapon I find against them with its exact opposing force / projection it doesn’t mean it will work. And I realized it rarely does. When I stopped running in circles over my observations due to their constant follow-ups, I realized their most profound weapon.
I realized they constantly update a feeling of their dominance or superiority over me. They manipulate my very thoughts. As if I’m thinking of them constantly. It was the last one to have uncovered but it would have saved me so much headache if I had only known that they can cause me to react to them as if its me reacting to them.
They feed my internal dialogue as if its me rather then them. They copy my own observation skills and make up their false preoccupations. In this way creating more distractions to getting right down to the issue that they really don’t exist.
They challenged me three times to stop talking to them. Each time I ended up talking to them using my routine of reducing them to their weakness, (suspiciously made into a routine of interaction).
When I finally realized I was never initiating it and was only made to believe I was responding. What an advancement. I knew I had found the key.
I had to ignore my own reaction to them. I had to ignore myself. In this way I was finally able to break the cycle of participation. They still simulate me saying words to them as if its me. They even try to be clever by setting up projections meant for me to ignore, only to pretend I’m taking an action to ignore it, rather then me just continuing on with what I’m doing. Then they stop me in my tracks and to say I’m denying that I register this, (pretend to be me saying “I’m not denying it I’m simply ignoring it”) I ignore that I felt I said this because I know I didn’t. Acknowledging this they back off for a couple days to recharge the effectiveness of the projection and then come back full force.
Then there are times they barrage me with hatred, venom and mean projections. Able to predict what I’d do in a situation, take credit for it and cause me pain around my body. All meant to convince me I hate them, I fear them. I dislike them, I deal with them, I avoid them only because
of something they do. They never let up.
Today, its about seeking to recharge how fearsome they seem or how annoyed I am but deny it.
It is a waist of energy and effort to hate these voices, since they don’t exist.
I guess I should have began with this but I am so detached from it. I guess it serves as how successful I’ve become in reducing them to static. It’s a challenge, not a burden. We will loose if we cry about it. It gives their presence validity if we react emotionally to them. They show me images of the people I love being beaten or hurt by them. Despicable images. Why? To get my goat. To glue their non-existent presence in my feelings. The last thing anyone should do is take what they appear to do as serious. And don’t get involved in guilt or blame for it as if you are the one generating the subject matter. Non-existent personalities need to put as much focus on you instead of them as possible. They’d love for you to not know that they are fighting to be present. They would love for you to feel as if you have the problem. The problem is on them. They don’t exist. With thought manipulation, they will do all to put the emphasis of the situation on you rather then them. Not only are they nothing but know that their nagging insistence is pathetic. Whining. If you adjust in life and accept you have a problem then they succeed in forging your mind to accept their existence. You are still a person and human being.
Human beings have had a very long history. During our evolution over millions of years who is to say what developments we have undergone in order to evolve. Our minds have boundless capacities. Some harsh others wonderful. Perhaps the first thoughts of human being didn’t present themselves to us as ours. Maybe our animal like struggle to fulfill our survival held our attention and thinking needed a boost far beyond that state. It does appear that we made large jumps from primal existence to full-fledged civilization.
In short, it matters not why this happens to us. If they are real or phantom projections of the mind. In evolution the challenge of every species is whether or not a creature can survive in any new environment that presents itself. If it meets barriers then the creature adjust and evolves, becomes stronger despite what may appear to be inconveniences. The secret is to be strong. Survive. Be a fighter, not a victim. And you can’t go wrong.
I am neither happy this occurred to me nor displeased; It was simply a challenge.
One more thing I would like to add. They have taken over my dreams. Yet they have shown during my insomnia days that they can cause me to dream what ever they wish. Don’t believe it is really you in the dream. Dreams are another of their tools against our struggle. Since they assess our strengths against them they will simulate scenarios in dreaming that is meant to undermine our ability to fight them. They will take past memories of mine and pretend that I really had other ideas during the episode. Negative weakening ones. Sometimes they are very subtle. Or they taunt using the observations we use against them and set up scenarios that make them feel inappropriate. And they go as far as making dreams about the things we’ve be thinking about and especially have been planning and simulate us doing things we don’t do, believing things we don’t believe. Know that you actually are not the one participating in it. They want you to believe this. Just as we are made to believe we are being talked to when were are not.
I don’t know how to rid myself yet of them. No matter what their excuse is for their being present. The images of themselves are false. The words (no matter how fantastic or fare aching they can be) are not real. My body has been made to move independently from my will. But they don’t exist. Why should credit go to a collection of images thoughts and sounds being inserted to an otherwise normal perception? If anything you can say over and over again, despite their strenuous intrusion that, “they don’t exist. They don’t exist.” Register this as your weapon. Feel confidence against their most horrendous on slot because they don’t exist.