The benefit of this illness is that it forces us to Fact Check everything. Makes us natural researchers out of the risk of making asses of ourselves. Other researchers don't have that advantage, they aren't aware of how much they rely on their core knowledge. Core knowledge are the things you believe that you assume to be true.

Once your memory bank has been corrupted by delusions, you know you can no longer trust the "core knowledge" and things you thought you knew.

To succeed, it requires a different skill set. An open mind, and Process Knowledge. Knowing how to do things not knowing what has been done. This process knowledge allows you to get right answers most of the time, and it fits in well with today's ever changing knowledge base and information.

For instance someone asks you a question at work via email. Do your homework, fact check, and make sure you know your sources and document them when you refer to facts.

If you focus on your strengths, and how to do things, you'll be better. If you resist the urge to link new knowledge to prior corrupted memories, you will in time get better. Recovery is not a destination, it is a way of life.

I have had delusions of a personal nature, that thankfully the medication helps me not obsess about, and with time the memory heals and I've let go of some of these strands of thinking.

I have trusted people in my life that know me, who I can ask to help me figure out if something happened and if it did, how to handle the situation. Included in that group are my parents, sister and brother, and friends and colleagues. I bounce anything that I am not sure of off them. They help me decide how to handle things.

When things seem unreal I ask the person next to me, "Did they just say ______?"
If they say no, then I go, "I must have misunderstood." Most of the time I take my medication, and clear communication and asking people questions clears up much potential fodder for delusions to grow from.

When thing seem unreal, like I see smoke coming out of a building, I stop and ask the person standing nearby, "Excuse me, but is that smoke coming out of the buiding over there?"
"Yes, I think it is," the woman said.
"Do you think we should call the police?" I asked.
"Um, probably," she said.
I pulled out my phone and called 911....
True story. The fire department came and put out the fire. (I'm not always delusional it turns out) even when I'm delusional, I am more sensitive to my environment than most... But fact checking, by talking to the people around me helps. I ask questions of the people around me. Unlike being disabled, I check my abilities and perceptions with the people about me.

When things seem unreal, like things are moved or taken from my work desk, I ask the person in the position to know the most, my supervisor, (it was after the fire and I was paranoid...) It was a stressful time at work, I disclosed my condition and I asked for advice on how to best handle the missing documents. The supervisor recommended I check in with my psychiatrist to be safe, and that I should report the theft issue to the Human Resources department.

When I am in relationships I am open in my communication, and I find that I have to trust the person I am connecting with to be honest with me. When someone pulls back during a conversation, or looks uncomfortable, it gives me insight that maybe I need to re-evaluate what I'm saying. I have excellent library and research skills, so in that instance I discontinue the conversation and move on. I try not to keep superficial relationships with people I don't trust. That would be bad for me.
Sunny

Hi Sunnyg. Thanks for sharing your experiences and your wisdom. This is a really insightful and helpful post. I don't consider myself psychotic but in certain contexts I have what I'll call quasi-psychotic thinking. It's always been very conspicuous to me that the erroneous thinking stems from the emotional side of my mind and that the natural counteraction to these thoughts must come from conscious analytical or perceptive thought. Objectivity versus subjectivity, to put it another way, and I think your post comes at things from the same basic direction.

I wanted to ask you something too, though. In certain contexts I experience what could probably be described as ideas of reference. For example, I'll hear a song on the radio and think that the singer is singing it about me. This idea springs from connections that my mind makes between the song/singer and myself -- words that I've used recently, metaphors or symbolism I've used in writing, experiences I've had, etc. I might think, "That singer must have seen that story I wrote online and wrote a song about it because the song and story use similar language." In other words, my mind projects an idea onto something and then finds connections between those things and myself, whether those connections really exist or not. Sometimes these connections turn out to be real and it appears that my intuition is highly advanced, as I infer something I had no real business suspecting. For example, I "knew" that my father was having an affair, not because I had any proof, but because I was projecting my paranoia onto his behavior. When it turned out that he was having an affair, my mind seemed perspicacious instead of pathological. Of course getting things right like that is the exception to the rule.

I spend an inordinate amount of time trying to fact check, like you said. I try to be as objective and analytical as I can, both because it refutes a lot of what the emotional side of my mind is telling me and, more simply, because it somewhat drowns out the voice of my emotional mind in my mental dialogue.

Anyway, my question was whether you had any specific tack for when it's difficult to bounce things off reality, or when you can't talk to someone to get a more objective perspective. For example, when I think a song is about me, if I hear the singer state specifically what the song is about (i.e. not me) then that's usually enough for me to let go of the idea that it's about me. But if I don't get such direct evidence, it's very hard to "prove the negative." I can consciously tell myself that it is incredibly unlikely that the connection I see is real, but of course the quasi-psychotic thinking is not easily ignored or dismissed. My only recourse is to just try not to think about it. "Embracing uncertainty" is what I've come to call it. It's not particularly easy or even effective, but so far it's all I've got.

I was just curious if you had any further insight on the matter. Thanks.

Hi Cornelius,
Thank you for the very thoughtful comment! Sounds like you are doing really well in your ability to gain insight into what you experience as reality. When I first struggled to know what was real and what wasn't I kept lists of everything. I mean I had a list everyday for every to do, shopping, work, things I've seen, etc. The things I've seen list, often had listed the things that I couldn't make sense of. The mysteries of everyday living. Like where did the playing card come from on my desk, or why is a sock on the computer. Where did it come from?

Some may have really happened, others I have let go of because I can't explain it. As for the music on the radio, if my medication is working and I'm remembering to take it* then I do not have feelings of reference. When I have feelings of reference, like I think Madonna is singing Like a Virgin for me, then, usually I'm knee deep in psychosis, and need to call my psychiatrist, friends and family and explain what I'm feeling. They help me navigate in that situation (they check up on me, make sure I've taken my medication, or help me get back on the meds, and will even go with me to see my psychiatrist if I'm afraid of going alone).

Having people I can reach out to and trust is essential to living in recovery. I work hard to maintain my relationships with the people I love and trust. I call, communicate via email, and stay in touch with lots of people who function as my social safety net. Most live a long way away, but with technology we keep in touch. Without them I would not be as functional as I am. I think this form of peer support that I have on psychforums is also one of the most valuable assets to recovery that I know. I've learned a lot about myself, and gained insight from others on this site. Having a place to talk is really helpful.

When I think about the feelings of reference from music, I have some fond memories of feeling very special listening to music and adds on the radio. It is really sad to realize that in fact, the DJ didn't mix the song just for me... That feeling of loss is one reason it sucks to be sane sometimes. But I think of my daughter, and how I want to be there for her as she grows up. And I think of all the people I love, and I think of their support, and it helps me feel less "unlovable". I still struggle with feeling that I will never find someone to love me the way I want, the way I felt for The Physician. It was so intense and powerful for me. I really liked feeling that way. Too bad it was delusional, now dating is such a process. When I disclose my story, unless the other person realizes I'm nice and not a psychopathic type psychotic person, they really get unnerved by my story. Most run for the hillside, one even deleted his account after I disclosed my history of "erotomania", but I keep dating. I wouldn't want to be with someone who has no compassion for humanity, so I'd rather have them run than get stuck with a dud because I was not honest. Although, I am a little more shy about sharing than I used to be. Being rejected hurts, and I only have so much tolerance for heartache and pain.

Sunny

Thanks for the reply, Sunny. I'm glad you have a group of people you can rely on to help you through difficult periods. A decent support network is something I need to work on. I have a limited social network to begin with, and this type of thing isn't exactly easy to discuss. I try to use this forum as best I can, to learn and to just not feel so alone, but even here there aren't a ton of people to share with. Besides, my situation doesn't fit neatly into any one pathology, so I'm usually unsure of where to discuss it.

I know well the feelings you describe with regards to your erotomania. That's how my grandiose thinking often manifests. For many years my mind indulged these types of fantasies, sometimes without me even realizing it. However, about 5 years ago, reality started to imitate fantasy and it so exacerbated my already-existing fantastical thinking that my mind got almost completely out of my control. The situation, both the reality of it and what I conceived in my head, is too complicated to explain here, but in its simplest form you could say that I thought a well-known actress had fallen in love with me.

When things got messy I first just struggled with it, but then succumbed and sought professional help. The psychologist didn't want me to talk about it at all, instead choosing to focus on other parts of my life and personality. I didn't agree with this tack at the time. This girl was all I wanted to talk about. I wanted to talk about her and my feelings for her and her feelings for me. I didn't understand how just trying to ignore something that was so pervasive in my thinking could be productive.

Over time I'm come to see things slightly differently. I now realize that my desire to talk about the situation, her in particular, was really just my mind's sneaky way of indulging in the fantasy. And so today I try to curtail the ruminations and speculation when I notice them. Delving into that stuff is just asking to get caught up in it again. It quickly turns into a quagmire of cycling thoughts, inferences, and wild imaginings.

As you said, it's very painful to come back to reality and realize there isn't some idyllic person loving you ideally. I'm not sure there are many people in the world who understand how harsh a transition that is. But I try to find esteem in what I do now in trying to live in reality. I try to be honest with myself and others. I live very simply and modestly, trying not to impassion my grandiose emotional mind. I eschew almost all celebrity information and entertainment lest I see my erotomanic object and initiate unhealthy thinking. It is a bizarre existence, almost monastic in ways, to live such a life so focused on perceptions and the tangible, and not conceptions. But there is purpose in it, and therefore value. And that makes it hurt a little less.

Hi Cornelius,
I am not a doctor, but I found the best medication to take for my condition is an atypical antipsychotic medication. I hope you see a psychiatrist in addition to a behavioral health therapist. I don't know your case, but for some people the medication can help.

The best advice I have is NEVER act when you feel full of yourself with delusions of grandeur or erotomanic ideas. Seek care immediately, try the treatments offered, and write. Share what you are feeling. The therapists don't understand getting over the emotional aspect of the delusions is as hard as gaining insight. They have never felt what it feels like to lose their mental health. How would they know what it feels like? Anyway, I think their methods are flawed. The only way I can cope with what happened is to feel through the emotions. It is like giving birth all over again, only instead of gestating a child, I'm writing my story. For me, I've gone back to the memories and written it until I felt ok. Writing to heal. It is a process. A form of non-fiction writing. It is a way to gain perspective on our brain disease. I swear it isn't like I chose to fall in love like I have with The Physician. It was chemical. My brain malfunctioned big time.

I think the doctors who deny the emotions of psychosis isolate us, alienate us, and make us worse. Denying emotions is for trauma victims. People who survive terrible trauma should pretend it never happened. Cordon off that area of the brain and move on. I had post traumatic stress, but it was emotional. I needed to process things. My case was not something I can hide. It involved every aspect of me. I was psychotic. That involved corrupting my entire life's memory.... But I digress...

Sunny

Hi again, Sunny. This post made me think about a lot of things and I wanted to respond but didn't get around to it until now.

How do you think and write about erotomanic ideas without getting enveloped by them? Without having them rekindle the emotions which engendered the delusional thinking in the first place?

When I think of my erotomanic object, my perspective is a "relational" one. In other words, I think things like, "Why didn't she wait for me?" or "How could she do that to me when she loved me so much?" or lots of other lines of thinking which relate to our "relationship."

But that relationship is almost exclusively a product of my imagination. It's extreme projective thinking -- the very basis of psychosis. And yet I can't think of her in any other terms except relational ones. That's the way she exists in my head. It takes a Herculean mental effort to think of her in factual terms and not project onto her all the relational stuff my mind wants to believe. To state it more succinctly: When I think of my erotomanic object, it encourages my erotomanic thinking.

And yet, as I think you imply in your posts, I also can't just ignore all the relational stuff. I experienced all that as if it was real, even if it wasn't. It broke my heart and still does. To simply ignore it as if it were fiction isn't possible (particularly when I am pathologically obsessed with the girl and thus have constant intrusive thoughts about her). But how do you deal with those memories and emotions when to acknowledge them is to encourage and validate the delusional mindset?

You seem to have a grasp on this tightrope walk that I don't. How do you think and write about erotomanic thoughts without encouraging further delusional thinking?

Hi Cornelius,
It has been a while since I looked at this blog, I guess I'm a bit late in responding. Better late than never:)

I just wanted to say, writing about my story allowed me to process it into a narrative I can live with, and move on. It was part of my journey to recovery. I have been treated with effective medication for almost a decade. That time has helped me heal significantly. For a long time people weren't sure that writing about it was healthy, but what they didn't understand was that I needed to express what was going on in my mind. I needed to ground myself and writing the story did that for me. By grounding I mean figure out what parts I remembered, what parts people told me were false, and the parts I will just never know. I needed to reflect on the facts. My case may be a bit different. While I was clearly delusional and became psychotic, I had a real thing happen that l struggled to understand. I needed to wrestle with the memories and learn to live with them. Writing let me own my story. It let me connect with part of me that I felt like was lost after the treatment. It gave me this internal sense of continuity, and integrity that makes me feel like me. I've heard someone use the term reintegration to describe connecting with that pure emotional state that feels so real during psychosis.

I've never been more emotionally honest than when I was psychotic. It is a wild state of being, I don't know that most people can relate to the feeling of psychosis, it is hard to come back from. I've never been more depressed than when I gained the insight to realize my reality in psychosis was deluded. To learn from the people I trust that I wasn't being sent secret messages made me ache with pain. *It was devastating* But life goes on. I had hope. I never lost hope, even though for a long time it was delusional hope that someday I would learn that parts of my experience were real. The idea that maybe I was loved, gave me hope. I don't know if a person ever totally gives up hope that the delusions may be true, rather for me, my reality of dating and living life is getting better than the fantasy of being loved by The Physician. In reality, I don't think I would be able to be near The Physician without having overwhelming unbearable heartache. I don't imagine it without feeling the nausea of the pain and isolation of living through my recovery. I'd be afraid that I was delusional if any of it was true, and that is now a greater fear than the reality that he will never love me. I guess I've accepted it, and learned to own it as unrequited love. The thought of being loved stings.

Sunny