Those Voices in My Head

In my experience the average person thinks that those voices that the schizophrenic hears in their head are coming from a mystical source, that they are in tune with some fundamental truth. This concept is very common in popular songs. But, in fact, the opposite is true. Those voices are very negative, spending their time speaking derogatorily about the hearer. This is interspersed with hours upon hours of loud screaming in one's head. Sometimes these negative voices lead to suicide, the hearer having had enough of feeling absolutely worthless.
     That being said, the voices that I used to hear in my head (of which I have no longer heard for about eleven years) were very positive. They were an androgynous choir that only I could hear and we spent the time in talking of fundamental philosophy, science, and art. At their most prolific I heard these voices when I experienced five years of homelessness, unmedicated, between the ages of twenty-two and twenty-seven (I'm currently forty-four years old) and they kept me amused and entertained throughout the boredom of those five poverty stricken years. And those times when the boredom became simply too much, the voices would suggest I go window shopping, or have a 'smoke and a joke,' or beg up some money for some comfort food, like a shepherd's pie, or a hamburger, or some hot chips with gravy. I often said to my friends at this time that having voices in my head was absolutely fantastic, like always being with friends. They always thought that that was very funny. When I told a former psychiatrist I used to consult, the subject of 'My Dear Psychiatrist', which opens Aberrant Selected, he conjectured that it probably wasn't necessary to treat for such well meaning voices, as the voices were actually a boon, rather than a bane, looking after the hearer and making them feel very special and very much loved. I would tend to agree with this position as I have heard a few stories from psychiatric patients whom told of their friends who had committed suicide when their positive voices went away, the result of the anti-psychotic medication.
     My own voices did though have their negative side, tempting me to suicide for clumsily practising ancient magick (and I have had several serious suicide attempts.) But when these voices were being cruel they were largely being cruel to be kind, showing tough love, and this I understood at the time.
     I will finish up with something I should have mentioned in my previous post about illicit drugs and schizophrenia. Current psychiatric opinion is that marijuana triggers, but not causes, one's inherited schizophrenia. However, my current psychiatrist has travelled widely in Nepal, and elsewhere, where marijuana use is very common, but incidents of schizophrenia are very low. I suspect that this is the case because Western marijuana is mostly hydroponically grown, involving the use of many chemicals, whereas in Nepal it grows wild and is had for the picking out in the bush. The instructions on the hydroponic growth chemicals recommend flushing the crop with water only for four weeks before harvesting, to avoid ill health effects from the chemicals. Hydroponic marijuana growers do not do this though as it's four weeks when they're not making money.
     These days I no longer hear those positive voices but their caring nature, a rarity, is explored well in Aberrant Selected, positively portraying them, but please don't think that this is the norm. I do not miss the voices, except occasionally, and to this day I am still very much grateful that their sudden departure hasn't caused me to suicide. I simply love life too much for that.