Audio Hallucinations

I have been thinking about documenting the voices like this for a while now.

I did it a few times (that I can find) in my journal from this time last year.

Reading my writings from a full psychosis episode is hard.

They’re all over the place and really triggering.

This post may be triggering honestly.

It’s tough to narrate them.

To write down what they’re saying because then I’m playing into whatever they’re going on about.

I wanted to share this video too.

An audio hallucination simulation.

The video is intense.

But sounds very, very similar to my everyday voices.

I don’t have many male sounding voices.

And they’re a little more whispery and feminine than the voices in the video.

But you’ll get the feel of what it’s like from watching it.

I ended up documenting what I was hearing for a while last night.

Please, be warned that this content may be triggering.

What the voices are saying is in italics.

8:31pm,

Tuesday, December 20, 2022.

I’m watching Schitts Creek.

Laying on my couch.

Fine mood. 

Documented as “good” for the day in Daylio. 

Here she goes again.

She can’t even remember.

Why are you writing this down?

*radio silence*

Who’s she waiting for?

She’s watching the show.

Write that down.

She didn’t hear you.

You got to say it again.

Can you hear me?

She’s listening.

No she ain’t.

She’s not paying attention.

No, I’m not.

*radio silence*

It now sounds as though someone is by my window talking. 

A male voice. 

I can’t tell what it’s saying. 

I’d look. 

But I can’t always trust my vision.

Did she her me?

I don’t know.

They now sound louder, and outside.

Like they’re standing right next to my window.

She keeps clearing her throat.

She’s probably on something.

She didn’t have to write that.

Look, she’s not even paying attention.

No, I’m not.

Liar.

You fucking liar.

I didn’t say that.

Yes, I fucking said that.

Oh he said that.

*I lost track of the back and forth*

Mimicked ‘I lost track of the back and forth’.

*radio silence*

She’s writing about us.

She’s mocking us.

She’s mocking us.

She’s mocking us.

*layered and echoed*

And who does she think she is?

She ain’t listening.

She ain’t listening.

She’s writing now.

Yeah, now she is.

Why is she doing this?

What the writing?

Yeah the writing.

*I’m silent*

They hate it.

*radio silence*

9:17pm.

The neighbors are on the third floor talking about me and how I went quiet.

They can hear my every move.

They talk about how my window is cracked.

It’s open a little.

9:25pm.

They’re still commenting on how my window is open.

And they can hear 30 Rock playing.

How can she listen to this?

Is she playing this again?

It’s every night.

She plays this every night.

They made it sound, volume wise, like they had just gone back upstairs to talk about my window being open.

But there were no footsteps.

There was no one out there.

But they’re still talking now.

Did she?

Why didn’t she write that down?

See?

Can you hear her?

She’s writing things down again.

Doesn’t she know we don’t care?

Hasn’t she learned?

You’re not going to write that.

Then fuck you.

*Fuck you echos and repeats*

I had to get up to take my meds and they’ve quieted down.

I got instantly tired just now.

Is she still up?

It’s cold.

Is she?

She’s up.

They’re rambling on about the same things over and over again.

How can she listen to that?

Doesn’t she get sick of that?

I’m ignoring them now again.

It’s too much.

If I play into it.

Or encourage them.

It gets worse.

9:57pm.

I’m going to bed.

They’re still chattering.

But quietly at least.

Same subject.

Same as above.

Super frustrating.

Very repetitive. 

9:47am.

Wednesday, December 21, 2022.

It’s quiet this morning.

There was a bit of radio noise when I was walking Bruce earlier.

But now it’s quiet again.

I’m pretty paranoid about today being another annoying night of voices.

I can feel my anxiety rise just thinking about it.

I’m glad the day is usually pretty quiet.

Once I hear one voice though.

It’s usually game on for them for the day.

They play off of my paranoia and insecurities.

There’s no ending to this entry.

Just like there’s no ending to my voices.

They’re almost always there.

Some days are just better than others.

This was just a very short example of what happens after dark.

– Keren

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