“Is anybody in the room with us right now?”

 “Is anybody in the room with us right now?” My therapist asked.  This was our first meeting and I was unsure what I could share without being committed to an institution.   That is the fear that looms in my mind always.  Even five or six years later when I meet with my psychiatrist, I am nervous. Let’s just say it was a fear realized, and YES it was as bad as I dreaded.   Back to 2016.

“Chris is here,” I respond.  Who is Chris you may be wondering? A few days prior I spoke to the mysterious hooded figure.  Here’s how that conversation went, and yes I’m aware that me talking to a hallucination makes me certifiably insane.  Hmm, well so many things in that statement make me coo coo for coco puffs. 

“What do you want?”  I ask, looking directly at him for the first time since he appeared in my car. 

“I’m here for you,” he responded. His sunglasses were still on so I couldn’t see his eyes. I wanted so desperately to see his eyes. As if, if I could see his eyes everything would make sense, his presence, the voices, the confusion which was my life, all of it.   How is he here for me?  He’s here in spite of me.  He’s literally making me crazy.  Somehow, though, part of my brain created him.  This is a puzzle.  I did not ask him to clarify.  I think I was afraid of his answer. 

“Who are you?” I asked him, or should I say: I asked it.  What’s the protocol for addressing hallucinations? I digress.  I don’t know what I was expecting asking this.  Heck, I don’t know what I was expecting talking to a hallucination at all.  I mean, do they come with histories and families and likes and dislikes and the such? Alas, he had an answer.

“I’m Chris,” he said so matter-of-factly. I looked down to process and when I looked back up, he was gone.

“Who is Chris?” My therapist asked.  I didn’t know what was safe to tell her. I just admitted I was having hallucinations.  I was having hallucinations with whom I was on a first-name basis.  The reality checks with my auditory hallucinations expanded with the visual hallucinations.  Check one: can anyone else see what you see. Check 2: does said figure make sense in the setting. Check 3: can said figure defy rules of nature.  If the answer is no to these three questions, it’s a hallucination.  This is what allowed me to appear sane for so long.  I would argue, it also delayed my diagnosis for so long.

“I am not sure who Chris is, but his name is Chris. He told me yesterday,” I answered.  I found myself opening up to this woman.  She saw my situation as urgent.  When I called and explained what was going on, she saw me the next day.  My sister dropped me off.  I was wary of driving.  I described him to her and explained how, with Chris, the auditory hallucinations went silent.   She listened to me and was slow to speak and quick to listen.  I came in guarded and I was left vulnerable, which felt alright.  The hour ended and I walked outside to my sister waiting in the car.  

“So, how was it?” She asked

“I’m not sure yet,” I responded.  Even then I knew I was at the beginning of a very long journey.