For the record
I feel I need to write this in case I either get murdered or go mad beyond recognition.
I am not having a good time of things. I don’t know why and I’m not sure what’s real and what isn’t. Nothing I’ve touched today has felt truly tangible, not even my dog, my very last indicator of what is and isn’t happening.
Tuesday night was awful. I have a tendency to scream aloud during nightmares, but more often than not the dog can deal with it without bothering Will too much. Well on Tuesday, I screamed so loud and for so long that it terrified Will and he said it was the worst he’d ever heard in our 5 year relationship. The dog didn’t want to come anywhere near me. Aside from being shell-shocked from that I was just so frightened lying in bed for the rest of the night and I didn’t know why.
It made me consider going on Olanzapine again, an antipsychotic that I used to be on, but it made me go to my highest ever weight and so I was taken off of it (I think something like 66% gain 5kg within 4 weeks of starting it).
Fast-forward to this morning and Will trying to run a bath. The water doesn’t go warm. I open the cupboard to look at the tank. It’s making noise like it’s emptying and it doesn’t seem to have leaked again. Then I look at the timer.
The evening side of the dial is as it should be. On the morning side, however, both pins have been moved to the “Off” ring, meaning that the water never heated in the first place. Will didn’t do this and I didn’t do this, but somebody, a real, tangible person, has pulled a pin out of one hole and pushed it into another one. There is no denying it.
That was troubling enough today. When I resumed trying to dress, I noticed that my emerald cardigan was not on the end of the bed where I had left it. I definitely wore it upstairs and had my phone in the pocket. My phone was still on the bedside table and so the cardigan had obviously been in the room with it at some point. Will then found my cardigan on the sofa downstairs.
Add to this that yesterday, the dog caught sight of something in the upstairs rear window and ran in super excited to try and greet whatever it was. We have no upstairs neighbours any more.
Will thinks I must have done both the timer-altering and the cardigan-moving during a psychotic attack. Which is maybe the rational opinion. But my last full-on psychosis moment, as mentioned in the last post, was over the weekend and Will last used morning hot water on Monday. It hadn’t been touched by then.
I honestly don’t think I sleepwalk. I’m physically disabled. I’d be hurting myself the whole time and surely wouldn’t stay asleep. I’m also super blind without my contact lenses in and I have poor dexterity, so there’s no way I could have walked to the dark cupboard and messed with timer pins.
And last night, I definitely couldn’t have butt-shuffled my way down to the sofa on the knee I’d just popped while in bed, put my cardigan there, and then get myself back up.
The idea that somebody has been close enough to our sleeping bodies to mess with our water tank and steal my cardigan from the end of the bed, is a frightening one. I think the only way to solve this problem is to have 5 or 6 friends over to all go into the attic at once and check it out.
My mum said to me ages ago that these old houses often don’t have divisions in the attics and you could theoretically just climb down into somebody else’s house. Ever since she said that, I think the fear of an intruder has been brewing in my mind.
I am so afraid right now, but even if I’m right and even if I get killed, it won’t be taken seriously, because an intruder is a recurring delusion of mine. I’ve had this same scenario happen in two other properties, and it’s always terrifying.
I always feel like I’m in danger outside of the house, and then when I get ill I don’t even feel safe at home.
I am so drained and I need to go and have a nap, even though I still haven’t cleaned up the house from Sunday.
I just wanted people to know that this feels truly real to me and I’m sorry for however it ends.
