“They're coming for you”, said the voice as I strolled aimlessly down Chowringhee, looking for shoes. “Who?” I replied, in all seriousness, because I had recently only started engaging with this voice that would speak its opinion quite frequently.
“They’re coming, they’re coming, they’re coming soon,” said the voice again, frankly unnerving me this time because who hears voices that also when they’re on the street shopping for shoes? Why did I have a voice in my head? What was this voice, periodically threatening, sometimes cajoling, but mostly warning me?
Suddenly, the street began to close in. At that precise moment, I felt as if everyone on the road was looking at me and judging me for who I was. I kept walking, looking for a shop or an open door to walk through so I could get away from this street and from that voice.
I found one open door and walked straight in. As if by magic, the voice in my head started becoming faint before disappearing completely. Also, that feeling of the street closing in on me? That disappeared as well.
“How can I help you, sir?” said the friendly shop assistant, asking me whether I wanted to buy something from there. “Do you like something specific, or would you rather browse our collection?” he said, looking at me again.
I had just about found my bearings. I could barely make out what the shop assistant was saying. It seemed as if he was trying to sell me something, I thought. My words were coming out jumbled, as were my thoughts.
“Nnn…no, nothing, I was just looking”, I replied to the shop assistant before opening the door and walking out onto the street again. It was time to deal with that voice and the fact that the street had tried to swallow me whole the last time I tried to walk on it.
Voices, hallucinations, etc, were a thing for me. Ever since I had been diagnosed with schizophrenia back in 2013, I had to deal with these strange hallucinations that would appear more often than not, telling me something vaguely. These were the regular symptoms of schizophrenia.
When I complained about this to my loved ones, they called me crazy. They said I was insane because I was hearing voices that weren’t there. Interacting with voices didn’t seem to be a very logical thing to do. So I kept living, day by day, fearing what would happen if those voices stopped suddenly.
Hearing voices is part and parcel of schizophrenia. A chronic mental illness that negatively impacts a person’s thoughts, feelings and actions. It can make it difficult for a person to distinguish reality from their thoughts and ideas.
Initially, when people asked me when it all started, I would say, “They were always there!” But were they? In hindsight, there were signs. I ignored them. But I don’t want you to.