My recollection of early “psychotic features,” as I would later know them, is relatively sparse: a stark white man popping up and down beside my little sister’s bed, men chattering loudly outside of my bedroom when the only man in the house was my father, invisible people calling my name, the image of a woman in red disintegrating like smoke when I turned to look. Somewhere between the ages of 9 and 14, it stopped, and picked up again at 15, only to return more sinister, more terrifying. The voices threatened to kill me if I did not kill myself. And I almost did. . .
I am drawn to mental health blogging because it combines my two favorite things: writing and psychology! I want to spread awareness and share my story and show that the word “crazy” has actual people behind it with real feelings. We are creative, brilliant people; not just loons who should be locked up forever.
Read more of GANBATTE96’s story. Visit Blog for Mental Health Post | The Deep End Diaries.