The Neighbor Hallucination

It’s an on going thing for me.

Hallucinations are.

I hear the neighbors talk about me.

Every fucking day.

Sometimes I can ignore it.

But it’s incessant.

It’s been happening for many years now.

The last few years they have been narrating what I do every single day.

It’s every single time I go outside.

Yet they start or continue at the same volume when inside.

When I open my windows it gets worse.

More incidents.

Not louder.

When I’m outside smoking a cigarette, they sound the same as when I’m in my kitchen.

They comment on me.

I don’t acknowledge them anymore.

But I have been hearing different tones of voices recently.

It took me a while to realize that they are a hallucination too.

I thought it was the new neighbors.

That usually does trigger me.

But then it registered that they were in a different part of the building.

It wouldn’t be possible to hear them at that volume or with the solid annunciations like these voices have.

These hallucinations are not as scary as they used to be.

Even if they’re loud.

Now they’re more annoying than anything.

There are still times when they make me anxious.

When they switch up tones and voice texture.

Sometimes they make me jump.

Or double take.

Especially when the volume gets turned up drastically and suddenly.

There are so many different types of voices at one time.

And throughout the day they keep going.

And going.

And going.

It’s impossible to differentiate them all.

There’s too many.

I’ve talked about Diane before.

I mentioned her in this TRIGGER WARNED post. 

But she’s the only one that has a name.

She’s been with me ever since I can remember.

She doesn’t take over though.

No one does.

But she’s there when I get particularly stressed.

When I’m really, really down.

When I have suicidal ideations, she’s there.

Most of the voices morph and mutate.

And have no pattern.

They follow me until I call them out.

Oh, that’s a voice.

That’s not real.

There’s no way.

So then they will start to surface at another tone and volume and distance.

Then I have to differentiate again.

What is that?

Is this even fucking real?

What is the subject matter?

I know it’s them because the subject is me.

It’s always me.

What I’m doing.

What I’m wearing.

What my hair is doing.

The length of my nails.

My hygiene.

How many times I’ve washed my hands.

Everything negative you could think of.

Gross things.

Unwanted topics.

It can get perverted really quickly too.

I know they’re the voices.

I don’t have to say it out loud anymore.

Even though sometimes I do.

But usually it’s a “fuck you”.

Or just “stop” that I mantra until they retreat for a while.

Because strangers don’t talk about people like they know them.

Not like that.

Because the moment I encourage them, they start to berate me.

And they sound as if they’re standing just over there.

Usually to my extreme right or left.

Outside of my apartment is more complicated than inside.

They try their hardest to get me to engage with them.

When I do, even just in my head, they call me a fucking liar.

Because I had just said that I wouldn’t interact with them.

And because I went back on what I said.

I am weak and worthless.

And a total waste of space.

Having these voices not subside completely with my antipsychotic is annoying.

I was warned that they very well may not completely go away.

The silence comes and goes.

It’s here for three days.

Gone for two.

Here for one day. 

Gone for four.

And so on.

But there is a main difference between my current hallucinations, and all of the other hallucinations throughout my life.

I know these things are not real now.

I know the shadowed profile of whomever is not a person watching me.

Filming me.

I know I can’t trust what I see through the viewer on my door.

The little scope in the top middle that shows who’s knocking.

I see shit through it that’s not actually there.

It may pop up in one visual hallucination or several.

They usually do surface in groups.

And worse when I have a bad day.

I’ll see the neighbors outside.

Only to watch the door open and have them step out.

There will be a sudden leak somewhere.

There will be shadowy ball type puffy things that trail across the floor.

I always describe them as susuwatari. 

It’s frustrating.

It becomes something I guess I now expect.

I haven’t gotten used to them.

But I do expect them sometimes.

Especially when extremely stressed.

My hallucinations get worse halfway through the month.

The injection just doesn’t remain as powerful throughout the entire month.

Which, I’ve been told, is a thing.

I’m not the only one to say this.

It works better the first couple weeks than the last.

But it works.

And like I’ve said before.

I have little to no side effects that are negative.

It is just so annoying to continue to hear this bullshit.

When I don’t hear the voices I feel so alone.

When I do hear them I feel so frustrated.

I don’t want them around.

But when I get stressed, they surface more than ever.

And it’s starting to make me more annoyed than anything.

It’s much further away from the delusions that all of that has led to in the past.

At least currently I can tell my hallucinations are hallucinations.

It does get tougher when the visual aspect is added.

Especially with the neighbors.

I’ll see them duck away from me.

It adds anxiety, and a shit ton of paranoia, to everything else.

But lately, I am able to reassure myself that things just have a way of getting twisted in my head.

And none of what I’m hearing is real.

So I haven’t been upset with it.

It’s just tiring.

The constant throb of hallucinations.

It’s a lot some days.

I have to keep mentioning my voices.

Because I have to hear them all the time.

They don’t let me rest properly.

I need to be open when I’m hearing this shit.

Especially when I’m in between my doctors visits.

If I held this all in.

I’d implode.

So, thank you for being here.

– Keren