Hallucinations,  Schizoaffective Disorder,  Schizophrenia

How She Helped Me – Small Things, Big Impact

To the coworker who helped me when I had a hallucination at work, thank you. 

When I told you I had a weird question and I didn’t know how to ask, you gave me your full attention. No discomfort, no judgement, you listened. You listened to me say that I had been sitting at my desk working and heard the sound of scratching from the inside of the server room door and I didn’t know if it was real or all in my head. Only a select few people in the office know that I have schizoaffective disorder, including you. But I had never approached anyone in the office with a question like this before.

You didn’t push me in any direction, real or hallucinated, you just helped me look at the evidence.

I mentioned my initial thought was that it may be the dog that belongs to one of the attorneys that sometimes comes in the office and will occasionally scratch on that person’s office door. I didn’t think I had seen it today though. Gently but clearly, you confirmed that the dog was not in the office today.

We considered the fact that we had found evidence of a mouse in our office recently. But I said that what I heard sounded much larger than a mouse. You agreed that that seemed likely. I couldn’t decide if I was relieved that I wasn’t just mistaking it for something else or anxious about the fact that it was looking more and more like a hallucination.

And then you offered to go check for me.

I was hesitant to accept  your offer, thinking to myself that I felt bad asking you to do something awkward. But I wanted to know whether or not this sound was real. Most of my residual hallucinations are recurring visual or auditory experiences that that I know all too well. This was something different. This felt desperate. And the fact that there was a part of me, however small, that believed it could be real left me shrouded in unease. So I accepted your offer.

I returned to my desk and, a few moments later, you came from your desk around the corner to quietly go to the server room and rummage about. Not once did you involve anyone else. Not once did you act like you were doing anything unusual. And when you were done, you came to my desk and softly told me the results.

You never needed to apologize.

With a tone so gentle it felt like a hug, you told me that you had found no evidence of mice in the server room. You had looked to see if cardboard boxes had tiny tooth marks from chewing mice, and you checked every corner for signs of mousey life. Nothing. Nor did you find anything else that might have made that sound. You apologized for not having a better answer for me, but an apology was never necessary.

It was never your fault. You actually helped me in a situation where others might have dismissed me. I told you that it was okay; these things happen given my diagnosis. But I could tell that you genuinely cared for my mental wellbeing and felt bad that this was happening even though I was not upset. Despite it being a unique hallucination for me, this is not an abnormal occurrence in my life.

You did exactly what I needed.

People often ask me how they can help someone having symptoms. In many cases where it is not a crisis, it’s really much easier than I think people imagine it is. Only a few people in our office know my diagnosis, and I have never talked about my hallucinations with any of them, whether speaking about the past or present. We do often work with people with adult children who have severe mental illnesses. But the situation is different when it’s someone you know and see frequently.

My coworker spoke softly and calmly

Her gentle ton helped me remain calm and made me more comfortable asking for help. It made me feel like I would not be judged and that talking about my symptoms did not affect her view of me. I could tell that she cared. This was particularly important because I am typically too afraid to ask for help like this. Instead, I try to focus and force my way through my anxiety.

Going over the evidence we had regarding possible causes of the scratching noise was incredibly helpful. It’s not uncommon for people to dismiss a hallucination as real or not real based on their own perceptions and not the facts. And that kind of reaction pushes me away and makes me feel as though I shouldn’t bring things like that up again. If someone isn’t willing to listen to me and consider all sides, I feel alienated and dismissed. This can impact my relationship with them even in aspects outside of my mental state.

The offer to go check made me feel likeI mattered. 

Her willingness to help me, even when I think we were both fairly sure we knew what the answer was, was greatly appreciated. It’s a way of reality testing, a tool where we compare what I experience and what she does to determine whether or not something is real. And her discretion about the matter was an important factor in me feeling comfortable with the process. The amount of effort she put into coming up with a solid answer was incredibly appreciated and made me feel like I truly mattered.

Though the apology was not necessary, it was appreciated.

Her empathy, thoughtfulness, and willingness to do whatever she could to help were exactly what I needed. She didn’t need to do anything fancy. She didn’t need to understand exactly what I was experiencing. Simply listening with an open mind, working through things without letting her perception push her either way, and taking the extra step to go check the server room helped me immensely. She didn’t need to play therapist or psychiatrist; she just needed to be a supportive friend. 

So to my coworker, thank you. However minor your actions may have felt, they truly helped me. And I hope that others may recognize that offering support to someone with a schizophrenia spectrum disorder isn’t always complicated. Though our experiences may differ from those of others sometimes, underneath it all we are all still human.


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