A Schizoaffective Story Time: Being Followed

This incident is something that I have never given thought to until this year, it had simply remained a memory stuck deep within my mind. At this time I wasn’t aware that I was ill, therefore I did not see it as an indication to anything being wrong; however, in hindsight I can now see and understand why this happened.

I was 15 years old at the time, which was over three years ago now. Throughout the entirety of this experience, and the months that followed, this was all very real to me. There was never a point in which I believed that my mind could just be making this up, and that it wasn’t really happening.

By the time I was 15 years old, I had been smoking tobacco for over a year. Of course, my parents had no idea that I had taken up smoking, and they wouldn’t for another year; and this is where everything began. As summer approached, I began to believe that my mum had told her friends to watch and follow me in order to catch me smoking. This wasn’t any small belief, it completely consumed my life for the next couple of months.

Whenever I was out in the town which we lived with my friends, I could see my mums friends everywhere. They were everywhere I went, they followed me no matter how far away I attempted to go. At one point, I saw one of her friends hiding in a bush, they walked out of the bush to make themselves noticeable and then stepped back into the bush and disappeared. Then I began seeing them hiding in alley ways or buildings, wherever I was passing, they would be there. Inevitably, this grew incredibly frustrating, and that is when I finally decided to confront my mother about all of this.

By confront, I mean angrily ask why she has bothered to go to such lengths to find out whether I smoke or not, and for her to tell her friends to stop doing all of this. She rightfully denied playing any part in the non-existent conspiracy to see whether I smoke or not, yet I still didn’t want to take a no for an answer. Whilst this experience continued, I held this against my mother strongly, and continually asked her to make it stop. By now she simply found it hilarious that I truly believed all of this, neither of us knew that I was ill at this point.

My mother and I can both laugh about this now, as I also do find it hilarious in hindsight; but this was a very real experience to me at the time, and there was no convincing me otherwise. It is quite terrifying to know how easily delusions and paranoia can take over your life.



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