Author's Note
So, this a story. It's my story. Of my illnesses, my Schizophrenia, and my growth. What happened in here, actually happened to me. If you want to think of this as a fic, you can. This story was not written for ratings, or comments, or anything of the like. It was written for the sake of getting it from my system, and maybe making someone feel less alone. Whatever it gives you, I hope you can take away something.
Unseen Angels
When I was a child, I used to have an overactive imagination.
I used to play the craziest games of pretend with stuffed animals, or talk to imaginary friends. I used to pretend that I wasn’t alone because as an only child with working parents, that’s what I did. And my uncle, who used to watch me, wasn’t exactly good with kids or a good playmate. So I lived there, in my fantasy world. And it was there I stayed.
As I grew, I fell in love with writing. There is something so powerful about the written word, where it can take you, where you can go. I fell further into my mind, but I flourished. I made friends, got good grades, listened to my parents. It wasn’t a perfect life, but it was good.
I think life really changed for me around August of 2013. I remember it very clearly. I was in the kitchen one night, making brownies, when all of a sudden I put down the spatula. I realized that I spent all my time taking care of everyone else, and not myself. I don’t like to say that that was a trigger, but that was the moment that it all began. I fell into a depression so deep that I couldn’t claw my way out. I went to therapy, got on medication, and life went on, but it wasn’t the same. Every breath had to be drawn out of me, every step was a miracle. Everything was dark back then. It came to a head for me in November of that year, when I couldn’t stop thinking of suicide. I went into the hospital for almost two weeks, got my medication changed, and tried to go on. But it didn’t last. In December, I went back in, and found out I was originally misdiagnosed. I had bipolar disorder. So they got me on the right medicine, and things were stable again.
It didn’t change again until 2015, when I found out during an evaluation that I had an eating disorder and several personality disorders. I went into treatment for both, and came out fine. But life had one more change in store for me two years later.
A lot of times when I wrote, I could hear the character’s voice in my head. It was natural to me. I always considered it normal, and I learned in time that it was. But suddenly, that changed. I heard the voices without writing. I, in my foolishness, thought it was just my imagination. But I was wrong. When I saw my psychiatrist for my next session, I mentioned it to her. And she said I might have schizoaffective disorder. One step shy of schizophrenia. So she gave me medication, and I continued. A few hospitalizations later, I was bumped up to Paranoid Schizophrenia. But the voices continued, and then one day, I saw a shadow in the night. Someone walking in my room, but I was alone, and the door was shut.
Over time, the shadow came into focus, revealing a face and body- her face and body. Her hair was fiery red, eyes green, skin pale as a lily. She smiled at me. She told me that she was here to protect me, but that she was not alone here. And over time, I heard their voices too. A five year old boy with brown hair and chocolate eyes, a man in his mid forties with black hair, a suit, sharp blue eyes and an even sharper tongue, a quiet blond man who never said a word to me, but was always there. And a blonde sixteen year old girl who whispered insults to me day and night. Their voices, their appearances, they became second nature. The good ones- the redhead and the boy- would come to me and sometimes hold my hand or touch my shoulder. The boy had a fondness for hugs. And I could feel their touch. And for a long while, there were those five.
But, in time, one more came. But she wasn’t human. She was a pony, with a rainbow mane and cyan eyes, who would fly around my room like a bullet. I knew her, of course. My boyfriend who is now my husband got me hooked on My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic. Her name was Rainbow Dash, but she let me call her Dashie. And I smiled at her, and said okay.
She didn’t come very often at first. Not as often as the others, at least. But over time, she came more and more. She talked to me about her adventures, gave me ideas for stories, and gave me more reassurance than I could have asked for when I was in doubt.
And then, there came that day. The worst day.
Everything that could have gone wrong, did. I was late to an appointment, my dog went to the bathroom all over the house while I was gone and I got yelled at for it, A person I blocked tried to use another account to message me and I reported them, my dad and uncle got into a heated argument that culminated in me being brought out into the garage in forty degree weather in my bare feet, with my dad yelling at me, disparaging me, and telling me I was worthless. And when it was over, and I was numb inside and out, I went to take a shower.
I always have music when I go into the shower. I play what matches my mood, and that day, I was beyond upset. I have a playlist for that. So I got in the shower. The song “Sober” by Demi Lovato came on, and I started to sob as everything came over me. But in the midst of this, I felt something touch me. I looked. It was a hoof on my shoulder. I looked up, and Dashie was above me. She was trying to comfort me.
“I have something you should hear.” She told me. And she said to listen to a song for her.
It was “Time To Be Awesome” from the movie. And when I heard it, I knew it’s what she wanted to me to hear. And it was what I needed to hear. I pulled myself together after that.
I really thought that she might leave after that, after saying what she wanted to say, but she didn’t. She followed me, when I went back to my room, when I took my dog outback to pee, and when I went to smoke. She stayed. And when I went to bed last night, she laid there with me. And when I woke up, she was there too.
I’m not one for being openly religious, but I think guardian angels exist. The redhead, the boy, and Dashie, they are mine. They make me laugh. They talk to me. They show me what it means to not be alone.
So yeah, I live in my imagination. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
