There were two major components to my psychosis. Saving the world and creating a new one.
Have you heard the expression “we create our own reality”? I heard this several times while studying matters of spirituality. Somewhere along the way, I formed a belief that if I visualized what I wanted to develop, it would happen. Other than small coincidences here are there, I had no real validation for this belief. It wasn’t like I was turning water into wine or getting my long awaited acceptance letter to Hogwarts. Still, there was something within me, that believed on some level, I had some sort of magical power to create my reality.
In the faith I was raised, I was taught that part of the afterlife includes worthy people, creating their own worlds and becoming Gods & Goddesses. So, when I sat down with the pendulum prior to going into psychosis, and Wesley (my “spirit boyfriend”), told me it was our responsibility to create a world together, it wasn’t a very big stretch from what I had been taught as a child.
Once I entered psychosis, and believed I was hearing the actual voice of God, the belief that I could create my own reality and my own world, soon became a level 10 disaster.
Throughout my spiritual journey, I had been meditating. Once I was in a meditative state, I would have vivid visualizations. These visualizations started with a garden, and over time, I would visualize the garden expanding, and becoming a world. This was my Garden of Eden, although I didn’t recognize it as this at the time. Once I was going in and out of psychosis, my meditation sessions became longer, and more dangerous. They started to replace sleep, and I would become more and more detached from reality. I felt more and more elated, and I had less of a desire to return to normal day life. The depression I had lived with my entire life, had disappeared completely. I felt peace like I had never felt. This led me to feel closer to God and Jesus. My hesitations for accepting them back into my life were long gone, and I was happy to be experiencing things with them.
During one of my meditation sessions, I was laying in the tub, when I heard the voice I perceived as Jesus (who still sounded like Chis Rock) say, “it is time to tell her who she really is”. I was confused. Who was I? What did he mean? I continued to listen. I then heard Buddha, Heavenly Mother and God agree, that it was, in fact time to tell me who I was. Yes, I was hearing all these voices within my head, yet nothing seemed abnormal. I felt centered and one with the universe. I didn’t question my thoughts or feelings. I became a naive little girl, following emotions and desires. Logic and reason were nowhere to be found within my mind.
Jesus said, “You are my twin. We are the same. You are here to be the second coming, to start the new world. There have been others like you, but they stopped listening before their work was done. Someone has to finish it. I hope it’s you Sis, but I will understand if it can’t be”.
I was so convinced of the validity of what I was hearing that I promptly replied, “I will be the one, and I will never stop listening.” As I type this, my heart sinks into my stomach. I recognize that the validity of anything I was hearing, was questionable at best. Yet, it felt so real to me, that I still have an emotional response to the fact that I may be letting God down by keeping the voices at bay. At this point, I have learned how to keep the voices nearly silent. They were unsafe for my reality, yet my spiritual self feels a tremendous loss that I no longer access them.
“This world will be ending in a few years and we have to know who should be brought into the new world…who should be saved. You have to help us know who to take with us and create the new world with Wesley.” I felt an enormous weight of responsibility flood over me. I suddenly had a calling to save people. I had a calling to be a savior…I don’t know that I wanted this. That said, I thought because God was on my side, I could do this.
After this conversation, my memories become convoluted and sporadic. I was going in and out of psychosis, and it’s evident to me now, that I had blackout periods where I was active with those around me, but I have no recollection of certain spans of time. Time in general became irrelevant to me, yet there were moments where it felt like time reset, and I would feel like I relived the same moment, over and over.
There are a lot of the moments I do remember…and the majority of those memories, make me feel uncomfortable, embarrassed, ashamed, and (as much as I hate this word) crazy.
Although I can’t tell you the specific order of events that followed, I can tell you that many of them ran parallel to my Christian upbringing.
One of the first things I remember happening, was in the bathtub. I was “hearing” how I needed to be baptized, like Jesus was. I remember thinking, “yes, but I won’t go all the way under, because I don’t want to get my hair wet.” I then experienced a blackout, because the next thing I remember, was seeing the water above my completely submerged head.
Some point after this, the regular voices of God & Jesus, “abandoned” me. I heard a voice of a person from my past. Not just any voice. The voice of a man who broke my heart. Unintentionally, I visualized him coming into the perfect garden I had “created”. I let out a blood curdling scream as I realized that his presence destroyed the purity of my garden. I was reeling in torment. I have never again, been able to visualize the garden as I did before. It no longer feels like a mentally safe place for me to go. This was not the only time this particular person would haunt my psychosis. I would see his face multiple times, and I would come to believe he was my Lucifer.
One of the more embarrassing things I did, involved one of my best friends. I went to visit her. I was still being a “psychic”, and my mind had been detaching from the messages I was giving. When I went into a psychic state, my jaw would detach, and messages came through my mouth that were unconnected to my thoughts. I was like a ventriloquist doll. My mouth was moving weird, and my words never seemed like they were my own. While in this state, I told my friend that the world would be ending. I also said a whole bunch of other crap that she has miraculously forgiven me for. When I left her house, I broke down in tears and I asked, “Why? Why did you make me tell her all of that?” and I received the message through the pendulum, “She is your John the Baptist. Jesus needed a friend while he saved, and so do you.”
Oh, but there were more embarrassing things to come…
The voices told me I needed to walk the earth to know who to save. Fun fact, they also told me that they had removed everyone’s actual soul (other than mine), so I could tell if those I encountered were inherently a “vessel for good” or a “vessel for evil”. They told me that everyone around me, was a Zombie.
I was also told, that as I walked the world, they would provide safe houses for me. These were homes that would be a place for me to rest, and they would also act as a portal to my home on the other side.
I began to walk the neighborhood; I encountered a woman who was complaining of knee pain. I grabbed her knee and told her she was healed. (Yep…Apparently, I was a healer too!)
I started to try people’s doorknobs, looking for my safe house. At first, it started with homes of people I knew, but I quickly graduated to homes of strangers. I eventually ended up going into the home across the street. I sat on the sofa, used the bathroom, and eventually had a conversation with the homeowner. He asked why I was there, and I think I told him I was visiting a friend. He left to call his roommate to see if I was someone he knew. He came back in and gave me a glass of water. I decided he should be saved. He gave to me when he thought I was in need, of course he should be saved! I don’t know exactly what got me out of his house. It may have been something he said, it may have been the voices, but the next thing I remember was walking out to see my husband, who took me by the arm and said, “We can’t go walking into people’s homes…” and a voice said, “It’s okay to go with him, just act like he’s real.” (Because you know, I thought he was a Zombie)
I wish I could tell you that this was the end of my bizarre behavior, but it was just the tip of the iceberg. That said, walking into the neighbor’s home, pushes the story to the next stage…
Clearly while I was saving the world ‘Jesus Style’, my husband could see there was something wrong. He didn’t know what to do. It’s not like I had ever behaved like this before, and we didn’t have the knowledge of the Mental Health System that we have now. Not knowing what to do, he called the police. There were a couple of things that happened, but ultimately, it ended with a police officer taking me to an emergency room where I was put on a psychiatric hold.
I was so fortunate to have this particular officer caring for me. Until recently, I had no idea the amount of people there have been in crisis who were presumed dangerous and taken directly to jail (even if they hadn’t committed a crime). I never ended up in a jail cell. My gratitude for this, will be forever undying. I also have gratitude to my neighbor (even though I’m too embarrassed to acknowledge his existence now). He could have easily reported me for breaking an entry, but he didn’t. I did things that I shouldn’t have done, but I was treated as safe. I was incredibly fortunate, and I wish I could tell the officer who took me in, what a difference he made to my recovery later. Beyond being kind and taking me to a place I could get help, he never treated me like I was a crazy person. He handled me with respect, asked me lots of caring questions, and he reassured me that things would be okay. At the time, I had no reason to believe things wouldn’t be okay, but now that I am level, I can see how many things could have gone horribly wrong during my crisis. This officer being kind to me, means a great deal to me now.
After the psychiatric hold, I was sent to my first mental facility. My experience with the staff, was the complete opposite from the one I had with the police officer. With the exception of two employees (both of whom, I believe were Peer Specialists), the staff treated me as if I were my mental illness. There were comments made by the staff, which indicated they believed this was normal behavior for me. They didn’t understand that I was in crisis, and I had never experienced anything like this before.
What got me through my time at this facility, ended up being the psychosis I was experiencing. This was counterproductive. I believed I was meant to save the world, so every time I felt misunderstood by the apathetic staff, I heard a voice in my head say something like, “it’s okay, you are here to administer to the sick”, “it’s okay, you are here to meet special people to save”, or “it’s all part of the plan, you have to be here as many days as Jesus was outcast…”. My psychosis took the pain I would have been experiencing and changed it to fit within the story I thought I was living.
To make matters worse, I had a few different experiences within this facility, where my fellow patients recognized me as deity. This made my “savior” delusions more concrete. Once, my roommate was hunched over a toilet, dry heaving. I went in to the bathroom to ask if she was okay. She got up, turned around and with eyes as big as Bambi’s, she wept, “Are you him? Are you God?” I had at least three other experiences that were similar. One of those experiences, involved another patient talking about laying “the vessels” for the second coming. Considering we had never spoken before, and we were both getting “messages” about vessels (how random is that?!), it was another indication that I was “right”.
The odds of me getting on the path to actual recovery were not stacked in my favor at this time. I didn’t feel safe or trust this facility for a number of reasons. Since this was the case, I wasn’t being forthright with the staff. I didn’t tell them that I was I hearing voices or anything about the psychic elements related to my experience. Since they didn’t know, I didn’t believe the Bipolar diagnosis they had given me was accurate.
There was another reason I didn’t have a lot of confidence in this facility. 15 years prior, I had gone to it voluntarily when I was feeling suicidal. After being interviewed, I was told to leave and find a therapist because I was “past crisis”…but I knew that I wasn’t. I left feeling defeated and I wondered what the purpose of reaching out had been.
I worked through my time at the facility, but little progress was made towards a healthier me. I was still hearing voices, still sensing energies, I still believed I was psychic, and I still thought all of this was part of a plan for me to save the world.
Needless to say, not much changed. Within a month, I would be put into a different facility. This time, I would face my mental condition…but not before abandoning my family and reality.