it's really hard moving through the world with psychosis, and it's even harder when nonpsychotic people detest your self-awareness.
there are so many tropes, in movies and shows and books and any other medium, portraying psychotics and schizophrenics as insane, untrustworthy, and violent. it's always us who has to be the scapegoat; someone who's so far detached from reality they can't even identify the harm that they're causing. a delusional leader, or an angry murderer, or anything in between - they're all harmful, and it makes it far scarier to exist with psychosis.
i am someone who forgets things easily and often, and still to this day, more than a decade later, i still remember one of the most painful and memorable "conversations" i had in regards to my psychosis.
in all honesty, it barely constitued as a conversation. i was young - only 15 or 16 years old at the time, and freshly dealing with death - and i was only beginning to learn the terms for what i experienced. most people are relatively familiar with hallucinations; seeing or hearing things that aren't there, or feeling them. delusions are a little less well-known, or at the very least, they're more highly mocked and made fun of.
i don't want to get into the specifics of the delusion i was caught up in at that time in my life - both for my own safety, and for the sake of any other psychotics that may end up reading this. i remember the thought patterns; i know how easily something can let slip back into an episode.
but the point is - i had been speaking with this friend, about my experiences, about how i percieved and interacted with the world. the term i had been given by the people around me, by the internet, and even by professionals, was delusion. by definition, "a false belief or judgement about reality, held despite incontrovertible evidence to the contrary."
this friend turned hostile towards me for referring to my own beliefs as a delusion. they grew angry, yelling at me and demanding to know "why i would believe it" if "i knew it was a delusion." it was insensitive, it was confusing, and in the moment, i was terrified. what i was going through was a delusion of persecution, and their hostility only served to reinforce the beliefs i had developed.
people hate a self-aware psychotic. nonpsychotics don't like it when we are aware of our own position in life, when we have a comprehension of the difference between perception and reality. they especially don't like it when our beliefs persist despite this understanding.
yes, i know that reincarnation isn't "real." yes, i know that whatever "memories" my mind has invented are purely that - inventions. there is a logical part of my mind that understands the reality of the world - people live, and they die, and that's that. but this logical understanding does not divorce the emotional impact of those memories, or the clarity of them, or make them disappear into thin air. those things are still buried deep inside me, down at my core, eternally a cornerstone to how i percieve and interact with the world.
all too often, people are met with a psychotic and their instinctive reaction is "this person is dangerous" or "i need to fix them." sure, there are psychotics out there who are dangerous, and some of them want to find some way to reduce or try to eliminate their symptoms. i wish both of them the best, but they do not define all of us.
in all honesty?
most psychotics are afraid.
we're afraid because we've been silenced, threatened, put down, or even outright murdered for being the way that we are. psychotics and schizophenics are subject to higher rates of violence than we inflict unto nonpsychotics. from the tropes in media all the way down to the ways psychotics are treated one-by-one, like my anecdote just above.
it's a brutal way to live, and very frequently, it feels like there's no sympathy or compassion for us. most of us learn to silence ourselves and to hide our truths and our beliefs; it's happened to me. to this day, i feel extremely unsafe mentioning my psychosis to someone unless they've known me for months or years at a time. i don't want to be interrogated about what i believe; i'm scared of someone hurting me because they think i'm going to hurt them first.
so it's safer to stay in the dark, and put up the mask, and listen to the sane people, and agree with them. it's easier to lead them on and let them believe that you're one of them, but honestly, you never stop feeling unsafe. maybe they're right; maybe you'll snap one day, and the mask will come off, just like those movies. maybe they're right; maybe you're inherently evil, and incapable of showing anyone genuine kindness. maybe they're right, maybe they're right, maybe they're right.
if, by some stroke of luck, you are reading this, and you do not experience psychosis...
next time you see someone talking about angels or universes or how they're morphing into something different, don't just dismiss them or turn away in fear.
we are not here to hurt you. we are only here to live, and it hurts. it hurts in ways that we can never expect, and sometimes struggle to explain - how do you tell someone you're trapped in flames that they can't see? how do you beg forgiveness for blood that isn't there?
show them patience. show them grace. set a moment aside, and try to think of what kind of world they're in. take a step back from your sanity and see what our side has in store.
it may unsettle you. it'll most likely confuse you. it may not all make sense. or maybe it will. you can find meaning anywhere if you squint hard enough, and sometimes the madmen can speak truth.