A bit odd innit?

I'm not a tough or aggressive person whatsoever; I'm actually quite placid by nature. So when I have a psychotic episode and become highly agitated, start ranting and raving, or carry on like a pork chop, it is very much out of character for me. Even then, though, it generally isn't coming from a place of aggression or wanting to intimidate anyone. It's more that, when I'm psychotic, my perception of what's real can become seriously distorted, and I can get completely caught up in whatever is going on in my head.

One way this can happen is by going very far down a conspiracy-theory rabbit hole and becoming genuinely convinced that what I'm thinking or experiencing is real. When people around me tell me that it isn't, or don't believe what I'm telling them, I can become incredibly frustrated and distressed. That frustration can build until I become agitated and start ranting, arguing, talking loudly, or generally losing my composure.

At other times, the psychosis takes on a strong religious or spiritual flavour. I can become intensely preoccupied with questions about religion, morality, sin and the nature of faith, and can get caught up in a kind of extreme religious scrupulosity. I can also end up down some of the more extreme corners of the traditionalist Catholic internet, becoming fixated on things like claims that the Pope is a heretic, or rhetoric about religious warfare and another crusade against Islam. I'm not saying that these are beliefs I hold when I'm well. They're examples of the kinds of ideas I can become completely absorbed in when I'm unwell, and my ability to step back and question what's going through my head is impaired.

I'm very conscious of this, which is why I put a huge amount of effort into staying well and avoiding another episode. I take my medication, go to therapy, meditate, listen to calming music, and regularly check in with myself about how I'm doing. I try to notice the warning signs before things get too far.

Maintaining my mental health is honestly a full-time job. I have to be pretty disciplined about those routines because if I let them slip, things can deteriorate surprisingly quickly and potentially end with me in hospital. I often joke that the reason I've managed to stay out of hospital for the last two years is because of my cat, Puss-Puss. That's obviously an exaggeration, but there is some truth behind the joke. Puss-Puss gives my days a sense of routine and gives me a reason to get up, look after him, and stay engaged with the world around me. His companionship is also genuinely comforting, particularly when I'm feeling isolated or overwhelmed. Having another living thing around that isn't caught up in whatever is happening inside my head can be surprisingly grounding. He isn't a substitute for medication, therapy or the other things I do to stay well, but he's an important part of the overall structure that helps keep me stable.