Have you ever...?

Have you ever felt compelled to do something you really didn’t want to do? Say, kill somebody you know, or even somebody you don’t know, just because there was that horrific voice in your head commanding you to do so? Worse, have you ever received the command to kill your own mum and dad by stabbing them in their backs while doing the dishes?

Have you ever been locked up and been judged by a judge in order that you should be locked up for the simple reason that you are a danger to yourself and to other people, taking in consideration that the doctors and nurses can do anything to you, i.e. lock you up whenever it pleases them instead of holding you and hugging you, give you injections against your will instead of going for a walk together?

And once again, have you ever had those voices in your head, urging you to attack people, more-or-less known? Urging you to grab the nurse’s keys, so you could escape from the closed ward? Urging you to knock them unconscious, so no one would know? Urging to beat them up, making even for all the bruises they’ve inflicted on you?

Have you ever had those voices in your head that panic? Yes, really panic, when they don’t see any way out? And have you had these voices who think they’re clever, sending you through open doors, making you climb fences, encouraging you to force the locked door that keeps you in that seemingly safe environment… and you still end up being caught? Guess who’s laughing the hardest then…

Have you ever had those voices that encourage you to cut yourself? At the beginning, they’re satisfied with every little drop of blood, but later on they aren’t that easily satisfied anymore. They want blood, more blood, they want floods of blood, they want to see the blood pouring out your veins…

Have you ever had that feeling that you weren’t acting on your own, that someone else was using you as a puppet? That you lost the entire control of your limbs? That your legs carry you to places you don’t want to go to, and your arms hit people you don’t want to hurt? That your hands and feet don’t act corresponding to your own will?

Have you ever been forbidden by the voices in your head to eat, drink and/or sleep? Do you know what sleep deprivation in its worst sense is? Have those voices ever forbidden you to take your meds? Fair enough, we all know why, but the question remains… have they? In any case, they turn out to be the victors…

Have you ever been encouraged by the voices in your head to fight back when you were being forced down on the ground by six full-grown men, while instead you wanted to cry, weep in a little corner with your comforting teddy bear and admit defeat, so that it would all be over?

Have you ever had the feeling that those voices want to torture you, abuse you, and then finish you off? As in… you’re worth nothing, so just do as you’re told, then maybe your life has had a purpose…

Have you ever been so enraged that those little voices in your head are taking over all your possibilities in life, all your actions in life, all what’s yours in life?

I don’t think you have. Well, I have. And it’s happening again and again, almost on a daily basis. And no one gives a sh*t about what happens to me. For them I'm just patient X in room 1.27.

Have you ever been so humiliated? So fucking humiliated that you lay there in a  police cell, naked, for hours and hours, until finally help was on the way? Have you ever been even more humiliated when you are dragged by force to an isolation cell, stripped of your clothes where men and women are both present? Do you know what humiliation is? Well, it sucks!

Have you ever felt lonely, so lonely, while at the same time listening to the chattering voices all in your head? The purest loneliness there is, is when you’re in a group and you know you don’t belong there. For at least, if you’re really entirely alone, you know that He is still with you. For ever and ever. 

I’m not going to fight anymore, I’m sorry. This first day of completely attacking the voices and trying to calm them down turned out to be a mistake. No one takes this seriously, which is probably for the best. From now on, I’m going to behave on this closed ward, because that’s what the voices are whispering to me. And then, when I leave, it will go straight to platform 13 of the parking garage. And yes, this is me typing, not the voices. I just can’t bear a life like this. I just can’t take it any longer. This is torturing me, and I no longer am the friendly housemate, the bright student, the lovely aunt, the listening friend that can take a lot. I’m a monster. And I shall be killed, whether I like it or not. It’s out of my hands now. Goodbye.