Hey, so my journey begins about two years ago, I was 28 at the time and I was looking for help in the psychiatric system.
I just started my HRT, and I was grieving some lost relationships (I'm a relationship anarchist), but also discovering some new ones.
I felt like things could get better for me. I was suffering from chronic depression for a long while at that point, and was unable to keep taking university classes anymore.
I was living in a very communal flatshare, with 3 other enbys, and one cis-women. We wouldn't have private rooms, but rather shared a big bedroom and had rooms for specific functions, like a wintergarden, or a crafts room and an office space. For me this alternative way of living was a dream come true, I felt super connected to my flatmates, I loved cuddling and being close and sharing beds in a platonic way.
But then me and a Flatmate, lets call them Lou, fell in love and even though it was amazing, I didn't know at the time that it was the beginning of the end. I was struggling with ADHD and Depression, and I was cutting myself and had terrible sleep schedules. I would stay up all night, to do graffiti, prepare things in the city for the next demonstration, or to play videogames. And I would cry a lot. My flatmates obviously knew about my mental health struggles, and they had their own issues to deal with. We would have weekly plenaries to discuss everything going on in the flat and the world and in our hearts too. And had I been not so naive, that probably would have let to something good, could've healed old wounds... etc.
Since I had been struggling for so long with ADHD, I decided to try and get properly diagnosed and get medicated. The diagnostics took sooo long. They would end a session and say, well this was inconclusive, we need to fill one more form next time. and then again. and again. In the end I did get diagnosed with ADHD, but also with Autism, Anxiety, and BPD. However they wanted me to double check my diagnoses in a more lengthy clinical setting, and they wouldn't medicate my ADHD, since they thought the ADHD Symptoms could be caused by the BPD.
I did end up getting an Antidepressant, that's also supposed to help with anxiety and a bit with ADHD.
So I signed up for a clinic, and in the meantime got started with the antidepressant.
A few months later I got the call from the clinic, that they had a space for me.
So I cancelled all my other plans, and went to the clinic. There was still two big things coming up though, that I could'nt cancel: My first sanctioned game in the federal league for my sport (I'll not mention the Sport, because it's quite niche and I don't want people finding me from that). And also for my political collective, there was an important event coming up.
At first the clinic really seemed to help me. I had food three times a day (I was a bit underweight), and always had something to look up to during the day. I met two other trans* people in the clinic, and we tried to set up a regular meeting of trans* patients.
Now one problem that soon became apparent, was that I did not fit into the clinics system. My sleep schedule and my sense of freedom was too irregular for the caretakers.
Normally I would have been taking my sleeping pills, whenever things got too bad during the night. But since the clinic had relatively strict rules, I was not allowed to bring in my own medicine and only get what the clinic provided for me.
I did not manage to fit into the clinics timeframe. I would sometimes only figure out that I'm unable to sleep at 2 or 3 in the morning and when I would go to the night warden to ask for sleep medicine, he denied it, since I had to be up at 7 again, for the morning round, and I should've asked for sleep medication earlier in the evening.
I kept failing to find the right times, and so the first week went by and I had barely slept.
I was doing worse and worse and needing my sleep, but since my assigned therapist was ill, I didn't manage to speak to clinic staff about it.
I tried to go to my regular sport, to power myself out, but they wouldn't let me leave the clinic grounds for it, since it was so late it would've made me miss the regular bedtime.
Not being able to have my regular outlets, of graffiti and sports, I was starting to feel worse, but I wanted to continue in the clinic, since I also wanted to finally learn how to have a normal schedule and how to be able to ever have a job or go to university. That did not happen. I got stressed out more and more, and the clinic would not respect my chosen name or pronouns, and I was starting to go mad. I lost more and more sleep, and finally one night, after about two weeks in the clinic, I decided to leave.
I told the nightwarden I couldn't sleep and was feeling really bad and wanted to go home. He said if I left now, he would have to call the cops, since I was (in his words) in a state of mental distress. Now that really triggered me, since I got sexually assaulted by police before, and am generally scared of cops.
I started bein paranoid about the clinic staff: I had given them my phone, to only hand it out to me at certain times. I was thinking that maybe they could snoop through it and I demanded my phone back, but he wouldn't give it to me. I kept insisting that I wanted to go home, and eventually the night warden call up the night doctor, because only the night doctor was allowed to let me go.
I told the doctor the same thing: I'm scared. I can't sleep. I need to go home, to sleep.
And thedoctor also said the same things: If I left, he would call the cops.
I started yelling at that point, telling them that I came into the clinic voluntarily, and they can't keep me by force. And I started running away, to my room and grab a few things that I needed most, to leave. They were coming after me, and in a short cut moment, I called up the police, to tell them I went to the clinic voluntarily and they qouldn't let me go.
I don't quite remember what happened next, because I was really stressed out and also starting to get quite psychotic and paranoid. It was the middle of the night and I was outside, running away from the clinic grounds, and yelling at them to fuck off. I didn't manage to grab my bike, since I didn't pick up my keys in the haste of everything.
So I walked for about two hours straight, until I reached my home. Luckily no police cars found me to pick me up.
Since I had not found my Key (which also had my encrypted USB with sensitive data), I rang the doorbell of my flatshareand two of my flatmates opened up.
They saw how bad I was doing and immediately came to hug me and they sat on a bed with me for a few hours and we talked. It really calmed me down and we made the plan to go back to the clinic first thing next morning and they would help me express my needs, and hope the clinic could still help me out somehow. One of them (let's call them Vince) held me in their arms until I would fall asleep. I had already had some self revelations at that point, from my time in the clinic, that really had added to my stress. I realized a lot about my disabilities, but also about my wants and needs in life, and I told Vince and the other flat mate, that I wanted to ask Lou, if they would marry me (Lou was asleep). They both told me, that it was a good idea, but that it was incredibly bad timing and I should wait until I was less distressed.
The next morning I met Lou and the other flatmates, and we had some breakfast before Vince me and one other flatmate took a bus to the clinic.
The clinic called me that morning, to let me know I could come back. However once we got there, they told me I was not welcome back. We had to pack my things and clean my room (in my mania and sleepless nights, I had made a lot of art in my room, that we had to clean, so that took a little while).
I was extremely distressed, and I could not access my phone anymore, since I had changed the password the night before (due to my paranoia), and couldn't remember it.
I was starting to think I was being followed, and I kept telling my flatmates to closely watch my bags, on the busride home.
I was also starting to suspect that Vince was secretly working for the "Verfassungsschutz" (a government agency to protect the constitution). In hinfsight that does not make sense at all, since me and Vince did some hefty political work together and really trusted each other usually.
I was starting to question the fabric of reality. I couldn't discern what was right or wrong anymore, whether what the clinic had done to me was right. I started asking all kinds of questions about the people in my life and wrote my questions on little snips of paper, because I was afraid of being listened to by the government.
I knew I was experiencing psychosis, I had heard and read about it, but I couldn't stop it. I would turn up the volume of my speakers super loud, crouch under the desk and write questions on papers. Then I would go to my flatmates and show them my papers, so they could answer me. I didn't go close to Vince, since I was scared of them.
I would ask questions about my political work: was it real, or did I just imagine it. Was I right to be afraid of the government? How much fear should I have, and how much is too much? Is Person X a real Person? Is Person Y a real Person? etc... My flatmates were answering all my questions, but also starting to get more and more exhausted.
I still couldn't properly sleep.
My flatmates got so worried, that they followed me around everywhere I went. They would go into the city with me, go to my sport with me, even when I was locking myself up in a room, to try and get some sleep, Lou would sit outside the door and sleep or rest in the doorway, so they wouldn't miss it if I went out.
I couldn't communicate all my thoughts anymore at that point, I was starting to talk more and more gibberish and I could watch myself do it, but not stop it.
I told them that I wanted to go to a bridge alone, and that they should leave me alone. They were too worried to do that, though. I don't blame them, but maybe things would've gone very different if they had managed to let me go.
I wasn't particularly planning to jump off the bridge, I mainly wanted to go there, because I wrote a poem on the walls of that bridge a few days earlier, and I wanted to read that poem. Also I was hoping to maybe be able to meet one of the trans* people I had met in the clinic there, I don't know why, because I couldn't text them since I was locked out of my phone, but somehow I thought if I brought a tent to that bridge and waited there, I would be able to sleep and meet them (and at that point trying to sleep was really my only goal. I was so tired).
But like I said, my flatmates stopped me from leaving the flat. Vince stood in my way, and all I could say was: I am stronger than you, Vince! I am stronger than you, Vince! But they still blocked my way. Lou was begging me not to leave.
I can't blame them, they were trying to save my life for all I know. Vince had lost a roommate to suicide before. Lou was very close with me and knew about many of my suicidal thoughts.
But I couldn't articulate, that I wasn't planning to off myself. I only wanted to be in peace and quiet and spend the night at that bridge.
I pushed my way out and managed to get out, but Vince convinced me that they would go with me to the bridge, and I should wait for them to put on shoes.
Lou also wanted to come, but since Lou has a disability, that would make us really slow, and I was so impatient. I don't know where that impatience came from, I was usually the most patient person in the world, and I told Lou that they had to hurry. I started saying really hateful things towards Lou and Vince, that they just wanted to slow me down and that they should respect my boundaries, and I told Lou (a person I loved deeply) something I would never have said in a clear state of mind, I said that their pain is not real, that they should just start walking normally, and that they are only having pain and being slow in order for me to be slow, and to manipulate me.
I was pulling on Lou to go faster, while Vince and Lou were telling me to go slower. At this point I couldn't bear waiting anymore, and started to sprint ahead towards the bridge, but I slowly realized how exhausted I was an how far the bridge was. At this point I didn't care much about where to go anymore, I was erratic in my Ideas. I just wanted to go away from Lou and Vince. I decided to go visit a friend (Lisa), that I did graffiti with, because she was experienced with psychosis, and she always told me, that she had a spot for me on her couch if I ever needed it.
So I went there, and started banging on the door, to be let in (it was middle of the night). Vince and Lou were still following me, and eventually caught up to me, while I was breaking into the hallway of the building (I think some neighbours pressed the buzzer). I managed to get through the staircase to Lisas appartment door, and banged at the door, begging to be let in. Vince and Lou were with me and begging me to stop. Some neighbours were also in the hallway, calling the police and calling us junkies, and telling us to get out of the hallway. I think Lisa heard me, but was scared to open the door, since she also has anxiety. But I don't certainly know if she heard me.
At this point I was nearly naked, since I tossed my jacket and pants and pulloer away while running, since I felt they were slowing me down (it was December, and quite a cold night).
I was falling down ehausted, near the door of Lisas apartment, and decided to just sleep there, on the spot. Vince came close to me and wanted to put a jacket over me, so I wouldnt be cold.
But I got extremely scared all of a sudden, and I pushed them away. I was later told that I was saying things like "I am god I want to heal you!" and that I was trying to kiss Vince, when they put the jacket on me, but I don't remember that. I only remember the two of us falling through a shattering glass door, and I was told, that I was sitting atop of Vince, beating their face and their chest with my fists, while the broken shards of glass were poking in our bodies. I am told, that Lou was standing there screaming at me to stop and that a neighbour was then spraying pepper spray at us.
I was stumbling down the stairs and for me the fabric of reality completely split open. I was meeting hundreds of past lives, trying to connect the past and the future, while I was the bodily impersonation of the present. Time felt infinite. An infinite everlasting moment. I was told I was found outside by the cops and put into an ambulance, but I remember that everyone II have met during that time, I had what felt like an infinite moment of shared experience with them. The cops that came to handcuff me, I told them that I had died one more time than them (Oh I just realised I left out that part... during the time in the flatshare, where I was writing stuff on papers, I was making a ritual about death, where I would let my former deadname ego die, so my trans* birth could finally happen. And I think I always said that I would be dieing at midnight or something like that, so that was also a big reason why my flatmates were worried, since they did not understand that ritual from me). And I felt like if I told enough people about my perceived truth, that I had died already, they would form a human chain back to the clinic and make sure I could go there again.
In my head I was forming an infinitely long link of humans, where every human I met connected to the next human and my task was to make the world turn again, since time had stopped passing. And everyone I had met, had died a certain number of times, but I was the one who had died one more time than everyone I met. So the cop I talked to went to the ambulance guy and in my head it was as if they were debating about this problem of stopped time that I was experiencing. In reality they just wanted to bring me to a hospital, since I was bleeding and psychotic I guess. But so there was a certain hierarchy to everyone I had met, and the cop was the lowest and the first responder that got me into the ambulance was a bit higher (died more times than the cop). And time kept bouncing back and forth, so it would sometimes go in reverse and sometimes forward, always to the point of me being peppersprayed on the floor. That was the moment everything was pivoting around in my perception of time. And so everytime I met someone new, I wuld go back in time through that moment and through all the people I had already met in that chain of people, and I would relive it all again. And the chain would be longer and longer and longer and any given infinite moment would only end when I said the key phrase to the key person: "I died one more time than you". And it would unlock me to the next person.
Now since I had relived these moments I got faster and faster at spurting out that phrase to the right person, and skipping the "cutscene" of pain etc. so I would make the moments much shorter again. But whenever I got to a point in the chain that I didn't know yet, I would first have to figure out the right actions, to trigger the moment to pass on, because otherwise it would be lasting infinitely long, but somehow it was only me perceiving that.
Eventually we would get to the hospital and I would meet the 2 people that represented all of my past and all of my future directly. I would only have to hold their hands to make tme flow again. They were security personnel that was put there to keep me from getting up, because I always had infinite time to undo my ties to the bed and to walk around the hospital and use the moments when nurses werent looking to sneak out and solve the quest I had. So they eventually got fed up of me sneaking out and put me back in bed with 2 security personnel. And then I started talking to the security, and told them that they would be having to fight by midnight, and that while they thought they had died the most, i had died one more time than them. And in reality I think they were just laughing at me, but I perceived it as them being really happy that they finally found the right person, to connect them and the past and the future again.
Hospital staff was also confused by my chosen name and pronoun and would sometimes use my pronoun as if it were my name, that was really annoying me for some reason.
So after the security personnel was with me at all times, I felt at peace, and their presence assured me that everything was going to be alright and I started falling asleep a bit.
I woke up to be put into a closed psychiatric ward, since my wounds had been treated, they called an ambulance and brought me into a closed ward.
This is where I really started getting abused by the system.
I was strapped into my bed and being watched by someone 24/7 and they would feed me food that was much too hot to actually consume. I would have cramps and could barely move anything, because of the medication they gave me. But somehow time passed again and I could patiently wait, until it was all over, I was really getting back to my senses, even though I was still confused from the experience I had had. Eventually I was untied, but still had to stay in the closed ward.
In the closed ward, they only had mens and womens toilets, and since I am non-binary I refused to go on them. They did not manage to provide me with a gender neutral toilet so i decided to shit into the hallway in front of the toilets. I met many interesting people in that ward, and somehow ended up kissing many of the other patients there. There was an air of love and solidarity for each other, even though we were all so different people. Everyone in that ward was basically experiencing psychosis, and that made us feel connected. We were not allowed fire, but there was some apparatus you could stick a cigarette into and it would light the cigarette. So I started smoking since it was the only pasttime. Eventually after a few days, I was put into a different station, with less intense care, but it was still closed, but I would get a few minutes outside every day.
I was coming back to my senses more and more and wanted to get out of that hellhole, since I was being discriminated a lot, and I got into contact with my assigned lawyer. After a few more days, I was let out into the world again.
But I could not go back to my flat, they had taken my key and told me to stay away.
I was feeling better again, but still very shook. Not very psychotic anymore, but incredibly traumatized by the whole thing. I had lost my community, my support network, I had destroyed all my devices during psychosis, I was homeless (again).
The whole thing, from my first step into the first clinic, until I stepped out of the semi-closed ward in the second clinic, had lasted for about four weeks.
I saw Lou one more time since then, I never saw Vince again. Lou and I text sometimes now, about 8 months later. And Vince wants to meet me next month.
My recovery and my homeless journey to where I am now, I will explain in a future post, if anyone is interested.
But ever since then I felt like my life is done. I don't want to live anymore.
I only live, because there are many in my community who still rely on me, and because it would only inflict Lou and Vince more pain than I have already given them.
How could I give so much pain, to those who I love so dearly?
It will never be like it was before, and I will never be like I was before. And I was already miserable before.
Thanks for taking the time to read my story. much love.
I just started my HRT, and I was grieving some lost relationships (I'm a relationship anarchist), but also discovering some new ones.
I felt like things could get better for me. I was suffering from chronic depression for a long while at that point, and was unable to keep taking university classes anymore.
I was living in a very communal flatshare, with 3 other enbys, and one cis-women. We wouldn't have private rooms, but rather shared a big bedroom and had rooms for specific functions, like a wintergarden, or a crafts room and an office space. For me this alternative way of living was a dream come true, I felt super connected to my flatmates, I loved cuddling and being close and sharing beds in a platonic way.
But then me and a Flatmate, lets call them Lou, fell in love and even though it was amazing, I didn't know at the time that it was the beginning of the end. I was struggling with ADHD and Depression, and I was cutting myself and had terrible sleep schedules. I would stay up all night, to do graffiti, prepare things in the city for the next demonstration, or to play videogames. And I would cry a lot. My flatmates obviously knew about my mental health struggles, and they had their own issues to deal with. We would have weekly plenaries to discuss everything going on in the flat and the world and in our hearts too. And had I been not so naive, that probably would have let to something good, could've healed old wounds... etc.
Since I had been struggling for so long with ADHD, I decided to try and get properly diagnosed and get medicated. The diagnostics took sooo long. They would end a session and say, well this was inconclusive, we need to fill one more form next time. and then again. and again. In the end I did get diagnosed with ADHD, but also with Autism, Anxiety, and BPD. However they wanted me to double check my diagnoses in a more lengthy clinical setting, and they wouldn't medicate my ADHD, since they thought the ADHD Symptoms could be caused by the BPD.
I did end up getting an Antidepressant, that's also supposed to help with anxiety and a bit with ADHD.
So I signed up for a clinic, and in the meantime got started with the antidepressant.
A few months later I got the call from the clinic, that they had a space for me.
So I cancelled all my other plans, and went to the clinic. There was still two big things coming up though, that I could'nt cancel: My first sanctioned game in the federal league for my sport (I'll not mention the Sport, because it's quite niche and I don't want people finding me from that). And also for my political collective, there was an important event coming up.
At first the clinic really seemed to help me. I had food three times a day (I was a bit underweight), and always had something to look up to during the day. I met two other trans* people in the clinic, and we tried to set up a regular meeting of trans* patients.
Now one problem that soon became apparent, was that I did not fit into the clinics system. My sleep schedule and my sense of freedom was too irregular for the caretakers.
Normally I would have been taking my sleeping pills, whenever things got too bad during the night. But since the clinic had relatively strict rules, I was not allowed to bring in my own medicine and only get what the clinic provided for me.
I did not manage to fit into the clinics timeframe. I would sometimes only figure out that I'm unable to sleep at 2 or 3 in the morning and when I would go to the night warden to ask for sleep medicine, he denied it, since I had to be up at 7 again, for the morning round, and I should've asked for sleep medication earlier in the evening.
I kept failing to find the right times, and so the first week went by and I had barely slept.
I was doing worse and worse and needing my sleep, but since my assigned therapist was ill, I didn't manage to speak to clinic staff about it.
I tried to go to my regular sport, to power myself out, but they wouldn't let me leave the clinic grounds for it, since it was so late it would've made me miss the regular bedtime.
Not being able to have my regular outlets, of graffiti and sports, I was starting to feel worse, but I wanted to continue in the clinic, since I also wanted to finally learn how to have a normal schedule and how to be able to ever have a job or go to university. That did not happen. I got stressed out more and more, and the clinic would not respect my chosen name or pronouns, and I was starting to go mad. I lost more and more sleep, and finally one night, after about two weeks in the clinic, I decided to leave.
I told the nightwarden I couldn't sleep and was feeling really bad and wanted to go home. He said if I left now, he would have to call the cops, since I was (in his words) in a state of mental distress. Now that really triggered me, since I got sexually assaulted by police before, and am generally scared of cops.
I started bein paranoid about the clinic staff: I had given them my phone, to only hand it out to me at certain times. I was thinking that maybe they could snoop through it and I demanded my phone back, but he wouldn't give it to me. I kept insisting that I wanted to go home, and eventually the night warden call up the night doctor, because only the night doctor was allowed to let me go.
I told the doctor the same thing: I'm scared. I can't sleep. I need to go home, to sleep.
And thedoctor also said the same things: If I left, he would call the cops.
I started yelling at that point, telling them that I came into the clinic voluntarily, and they can't keep me by force. And I started running away, to my room and grab a few things that I needed most, to leave. They were coming after me, and in a short cut moment, I called up the police, to tell them I went to the clinic voluntarily and they qouldn't let me go.
I don't quite remember what happened next, because I was really stressed out and also starting to get quite psychotic and paranoid. It was the middle of the night and I was outside, running away from the clinic grounds, and yelling at them to fuck off. I didn't manage to grab my bike, since I didn't pick up my keys in the haste of everything.
So I walked for about two hours straight, until I reached my home. Luckily no police cars found me to pick me up.
Since I had not found my Key (which also had my encrypted USB with sensitive data), I rang the doorbell of my flatshareand two of my flatmates opened up.
They saw how bad I was doing and immediately came to hug me and they sat on a bed with me for a few hours and we talked. It really calmed me down and we made the plan to go back to the clinic first thing next morning and they would help me express my needs, and hope the clinic could still help me out somehow. One of them (let's call them Vince) held me in their arms until I would fall asleep. I had already had some self revelations at that point, from my time in the clinic, that really had added to my stress. I realized a lot about my disabilities, but also about my wants and needs in life, and I told Vince and the other flat mate, that I wanted to ask Lou, if they would marry me (Lou was asleep). They both told me, that it was a good idea, but that it was incredibly bad timing and I should wait until I was less distressed.
The next morning I met Lou and the other flatmates, and we had some breakfast before Vince me and one other flatmate took a bus to the clinic.
The clinic called me that morning, to let me know I could come back. However once we got there, they told me I was not welcome back. We had to pack my things and clean my room (in my mania and sleepless nights, I had made a lot of art in my room, that we had to clean, so that took a little while).
I was extremely distressed, and I could not access my phone anymore, since I had changed the password the night before (due to my paranoia), and couldn't remember it.
I was starting to think I was being followed, and I kept telling my flatmates to closely watch my bags, on the busride home.
I was also starting to suspect that Vince was secretly working for the "Verfassungsschutz" (a government agency to protect the constitution). In hinfsight that does not make sense at all, since me and Vince did some hefty political work together and really trusted each other usually.
I was starting to question the fabric of reality. I couldn't discern what was right or wrong anymore, whether what the clinic had done to me was right. I started asking all kinds of questions about the people in my life and wrote my questions on little snips of paper, because I was afraid of being listened to by the government.
I knew I was experiencing psychosis, I had heard and read about it, but I couldn't stop it. I would turn up the volume of my speakers super loud, crouch under the desk and write questions on papers. Then I would go to my flatmates and show them my papers, so they could answer me. I didn't go close to Vince, since I was scared of them.
I would ask questions about my political work: was it real, or did I just imagine it. Was I right to be afraid of the government? How much fear should I have, and how much is too much? Is Person X a real Person? Is Person Y a real Person? etc... My flatmates were answering all my questions, but also starting to get more and more exhausted.
I still couldn't properly sleep.
My flatmates got so worried, that they followed me around everywhere I went. They would go into the city with me, go to my sport with me, even when I was locking myself up in a room, to try and get some sleep, Lou would sit outside the door and sleep or rest in the doorway, so they wouldn't miss it if I went out.
I couldn't communicate all my thoughts anymore at that point, I was starting to talk more and more gibberish and I could watch myself do it, but not stop it.
I told them that I wanted to go to a bridge alone, and that they should leave me alone. They were too worried to do that, though. I don't blame them, but maybe things would've gone very different if they had managed to let me go.
I wasn't particularly planning to jump off the bridge, I mainly wanted to go there, because I wrote a poem on the walls of that bridge a few days earlier, and I wanted to read that poem. Also I was hoping to maybe be able to meet one of the trans* people I had met in the clinic there, I don't know why, because I couldn't text them since I was locked out of my phone, but somehow I thought if I brought a tent to that bridge and waited there, I would be able to sleep and meet them (and at that point trying to sleep was really my only goal. I was so tired).
But like I said, my flatmates stopped me from leaving the flat. Vince stood in my way, and all I could say was: I am stronger than you, Vince! I am stronger than you, Vince! But they still blocked my way. Lou was begging me not to leave.
I can't blame them, they were trying to save my life for all I know. Vince had lost a roommate to suicide before. Lou was very close with me and knew about many of my suicidal thoughts.
But I couldn't articulate, that I wasn't planning to off myself. I only wanted to be in peace and quiet and spend the night at that bridge.
I pushed my way out and managed to get out, but Vince convinced me that they would go with me to the bridge, and I should wait for them to put on shoes.
Lou also wanted to come, but since Lou has a disability, that would make us really slow, and I was so impatient. I don't know where that impatience came from, I was usually the most patient person in the world, and I told Lou that they had to hurry. I started saying really hateful things towards Lou and Vince, that they just wanted to slow me down and that they should respect my boundaries, and I told Lou (a person I loved deeply) something I would never have said in a clear state of mind, I said that their pain is not real, that they should just start walking normally, and that they are only having pain and being slow in order for me to be slow, and to manipulate me.
I was pulling on Lou to go faster, while Vince and Lou were telling me to go slower. At this point I couldn't bear waiting anymore, and started to sprint ahead towards the bridge, but I slowly realized how exhausted I was an how far the bridge was. At this point I didn't care much about where to go anymore, I was erratic in my Ideas. I just wanted to go away from Lou and Vince. I decided to go visit a friend (Lisa), that I did graffiti with, because she was experienced with psychosis, and she always told me, that she had a spot for me on her couch if I ever needed it.
So I went there, and started banging on the door, to be let in (it was middle of the night). Vince and Lou were still following me, and eventually caught up to me, while I was breaking into the hallway of the building (I think some neighbours pressed the buzzer). I managed to get through the staircase to Lisas appartment door, and banged at the door, begging to be let in. Vince and Lou were with me and begging me to stop. Some neighbours were also in the hallway, calling the police and calling us junkies, and telling us to get out of the hallway. I think Lisa heard me, but was scared to open the door, since she also has anxiety. But I don't certainly know if she heard me.
At this point I was nearly naked, since I tossed my jacket and pants and pulloer away while running, since I felt they were slowing me down (it was December, and quite a cold night).
I was falling down ehausted, near the door of Lisas apartment, and decided to just sleep there, on the spot. Vince came close to me and wanted to put a jacket over me, so I wouldnt be cold.
But I got extremely scared all of a sudden, and I pushed them away. I was later told that I was saying things like "I am god I want to heal you!" and that I was trying to kiss Vince, when they put the jacket on me, but I don't remember that. I only remember the two of us falling through a shattering glass door, and I was told, that I was sitting atop of Vince, beating their face and their chest with my fists, while the broken shards of glass were poking in our bodies. I am told, that Lou was standing there screaming at me to stop and that a neighbour was then spraying pepper spray at us.
I was stumbling down the stairs and for me the fabric of reality completely split open. I was meeting hundreds of past lives, trying to connect the past and the future, while I was the bodily impersonation of the present. Time felt infinite. An infinite everlasting moment. I was told I was found outside by the cops and put into an ambulance, but I remember that everyone II have met during that time, I had what felt like an infinite moment of shared experience with them. The cops that came to handcuff me, I told them that I had died one more time than them (Oh I just realised I left out that part... during the time in the flatshare, where I was writing stuff on papers, I was making a ritual about death, where I would let my former deadname ego die, so my trans* birth could finally happen. And I think I always said that I would be dieing at midnight or something like that, so that was also a big reason why my flatmates were worried, since they did not understand that ritual from me). And I felt like if I told enough people about my perceived truth, that I had died already, they would form a human chain back to the clinic and make sure I could go there again.
In my head I was forming an infinitely long link of humans, where every human I met connected to the next human and my task was to make the world turn again, since time had stopped passing. And everyone I had met, had died a certain number of times, but I was the one who had died one more time than everyone I met. So the cop I talked to went to the ambulance guy and in my head it was as if they were debating about this problem of stopped time that I was experiencing. In reality they just wanted to bring me to a hospital, since I was bleeding and psychotic I guess. But so there was a certain hierarchy to everyone I had met, and the cop was the lowest and the first responder that got me into the ambulance was a bit higher (died more times than the cop). And time kept bouncing back and forth, so it would sometimes go in reverse and sometimes forward, always to the point of me being peppersprayed on the floor. That was the moment everything was pivoting around in my perception of time. And so everytime I met someone new, I wuld go back in time through that moment and through all the people I had already met in that chain of people, and I would relive it all again. And the chain would be longer and longer and longer and any given infinite moment would only end when I said the key phrase to the key person: "I died one more time than you". And it would unlock me to the next person.
Now since I had relived these moments I got faster and faster at spurting out that phrase to the right person, and skipping the "cutscene" of pain etc. so I would make the moments much shorter again. But whenever I got to a point in the chain that I didn't know yet, I would first have to figure out the right actions, to trigger the moment to pass on, because otherwise it would be lasting infinitely long, but somehow it was only me perceiving that.
Eventually we would get to the hospital and I would meet the 2 people that represented all of my past and all of my future directly. I would only have to hold their hands to make tme flow again. They were security personnel that was put there to keep me from getting up, because I always had infinite time to undo my ties to the bed and to walk around the hospital and use the moments when nurses werent looking to sneak out and solve the quest I had. So they eventually got fed up of me sneaking out and put me back in bed with 2 security personnel. And then I started talking to the security, and told them that they would be having to fight by midnight, and that while they thought they had died the most, i had died one more time than them. And in reality I think they were just laughing at me, but I perceived it as them being really happy that they finally found the right person, to connect them and the past and the future again.
Hospital staff was also confused by my chosen name and pronoun and would sometimes use my pronoun as if it were my name, that was really annoying me for some reason.
So after the security personnel was with me at all times, I felt at peace, and their presence assured me that everything was going to be alright and I started falling asleep a bit.
I woke up to be put into a closed psychiatric ward, since my wounds had been treated, they called an ambulance and brought me into a closed ward.
This is where I really started getting abused by the system.
I was strapped into my bed and being watched by someone 24/7 and they would feed me food that was much too hot to actually consume. I would have cramps and could barely move anything, because of the medication they gave me. But somehow time passed again and I could patiently wait, until it was all over, I was really getting back to my senses, even though I was still confused from the experience I had had. Eventually I was untied, but still had to stay in the closed ward.
In the closed ward, they only had mens and womens toilets, and since I am non-binary I refused to go on them. They did not manage to provide me with a gender neutral toilet so i decided to shit into the hallway in front of the toilets. I met many interesting people in that ward, and somehow ended up kissing many of the other patients there. There was an air of love and solidarity for each other, even though we were all so different people. Everyone in that ward was basically experiencing psychosis, and that made us feel connected. We were not allowed fire, but there was some apparatus you could stick a cigarette into and it would light the cigarette. So I started smoking since it was the only pasttime. Eventually after a few days, I was put into a different station, with less intense care, but it was still closed, but I would get a few minutes outside every day.
I was coming back to my senses more and more and wanted to get out of that hellhole, since I was being discriminated a lot, and I got into contact with my assigned lawyer. After a few more days, I was let out into the world again.
But I could not go back to my flat, they had taken my key and told me to stay away.
I was feeling better again, but still very shook. Not very psychotic anymore, but incredibly traumatized by the whole thing. I had lost my community, my support network, I had destroyed all my devices during psychosis, I was homeless (again).
The whole thing, from my first step into the first clinic, until I stepped out of the semi-closed ward in the second clinic, had lasted for about four weeks.
I saw Lou one more time since then, I never saw Vince again. Lou and I text sometimes now, about 8 months later. And Vince wants to meet me next month.
My recovery and my homeless journey to where I am now, I will explain in a future post, if anyone is interested.
But ever since then I felt like my life is done. I don't want to live anymore.
I only live, because there are many in my community who still rely on me, and because it would only inflict Lou and Vince more pain than I have already given them.
How could I give so much pain, to those who I love so dearly?
It will never be like it was before, and I will never be like I was before. And I was already miserable before.
Thanks for taking the time to read my story. much love.
