Schizophrenia is a little bit like being haunted by a flock of pissed-off ghosts.
No, schizophrenics are not possessed. Yes, I have been asked that. No, I was not offended. I was so surprised I just said nope, unlikely. This is just me. Schizophrenic me.
When my schizophrenia is at its worst, I have five or more voices screaming or yelling at me, overlapping. They are not demons. I doubt they are ghosts.
But it is a bit like being haunted. Hallucinating monsters prowling, strangers wandering the house, lights and movement and chaos.
My dad once said I should be exorcised. He was joking, but not everyone is. I said sure. I said I would research the priest’s life and start telling him things about himself as he tried the exorcism, like his address. I said I’d make up a new language and start muttering it under my breath while he does the exorcism. Oooh, even better, just scream “It burns us, it burns us!”
See, I can joke around too.
Post 4 in Socially Unacceptable: The Daily Life of a Queer Schizophrenic Wreck (2022)
This is an autobiographical series about my life, something I have wanted to do for a long time. I intend to add new content daily.
For the whole series, follow this link.