40 People Who Experienced Psychosis Share The Most Terrifying Things They Saw And Felt

Funny story: my bf at the time had psychosis (still does) and a common visual+tactile hallucination that came on from stress was “there are bugs crawling on me”, and needed a camera, a second set of eyes, or a good few minutes to discern the truth. Poor thing stayed over my place in a farmhouses apartment in the spring, and wakes up from a dead sleep “b0rb there’s bugs on me”. I assure it’s a hallucination, everything is fine, “no b0rb i need you to turn on the light and check”

reader. it was ladybug season and apparently my room was the Love Bug Hotel that night. i felt SO bad and never doubted double checking a bug hallucination again.

I had a mental break years ago from family stress and trauma combined with insomnia.
I had become convinced that I was infact Dead.
I couldn't process peoples faces, they looked blurry and out of focus. In that state I was in I believed that at any moment the grim reaper would appear to collect me and I had somehow been forgotten. I stopped eating entirely and only drank small amounts of water.
A week of believing i was dead passed and a thought occurred "I look sick but, I'm not rotting."
I went to a hospital and started treatment after that. I'll never forget how real it all felt to me.

I've had two breaks in my life. The first came a year after my daughter died. I feel like the guilt and grief took hold of me, and it was inevitable that, at some point, I would break. It started with hearing her. She was very ill so it didn't sound like a normal baby's cry. Then, I kept feeling like I was pregnant again. It even felt like my milk was coming back in. I'd start to see her in every baby I saw. Then the paranoid thoughts began, and I would panic that she was buried but not dead. I'd sleep at her grave. I ended up spending 3 days in a mental health facility. I didn't follow up with any aftercare and was never offered any counselling or bereavement therapy. This was 22 years ago.
The second break came when I was pregnant 7 years after my daughter died. I can remember hearing whispers that she wasn't going to survive and that I was never meant to be a mum. Then, I would see shadows moving towards me. I would run to work to stop them from getting me. Eventually, I couldn't leave my room at all. I locked myself in my room for 5 days before my family got doctors and police to remove me. I was hospitalised in a mental health ward for 9 weeks. I can remember not even knowing how to speak or eat. It was like my mind had shattered entirely under the weight of my grief and guilt. I was too frightened to accept I was pregnant in case she would die, too. It took years of intense therapy to recover. I was given bereavement counselling as well. This was life-changing. It helped me realise I was a good mum and never left her side. I wasn't to blame for her death.
I carried so much shame, guilt and grief. Never talk to anyone about it. It crushes a person in unimaginable ways. It's changed my perception of grief and mental health.

I still suffer from this I just live it wit but I always see this person standing in the corner of the room at times just watching me. Was a guy we lost when I was deployed VA thinks I'm making it up no brain tumors no rhyme or reason why just stands there staring at me doesn't talk though life is otherwise normal.

Post partum psychosis and sleep deprivation. I saw spiders crawling all over the ceiling and was terrified they would fall on the baby.

Didn't happen to me personally but an old friend went down deep to the point that he was convinced his neighbors had Obama tied up in their basement. So, naturally, he realized he had to go and save the president. Literally broke into the neighbor's place, cops came and he went to jail. AND he got a lot of help and is waaaay better now.

I almost jumped off a fourth floor window saying I wanted to "experience true free fall". I had 3 classmates trying to talk me down and I just couldn't understand the concept of being dead or hurt. It was like I had no idea what pain feels like, and I couldn't comprehend the mere idea that it could happen to me.

Then a fourth classmate saw, went to the school cafeteria, got my favorite candy and lured me off the windowsill with it. She told me if I got off the window, she would give me one, and of I waited until tomorrow to jump, she would give me a second one at the end of the day. I agreed. Somehow the promise of a kitkat was more compelling than the risk of death or lifelong disability or broken bones.

That day 3 of my classmates walked with me all the way home, making sure to not let me walk straight into traffic, and told my parents what happened. Nobody told any of the teachers or school admin, and I'm not sure why.

This was 12th grade and we were 16-18yo so we were left unsupervised at school frequently, which is why no staff noticed this going on. I don't remember most of this, btw. My classmates told me later, once I was back to class.

I've had psychotic depression a few times where I have been convinced that my brain is rotting and full of maggots. I can smell an overwhelming disgusting stench of rotting flesh, and I can feel maggots wriggling around in my brain. The cognitive effects of the psychosis make it feel like my brain is shutting down because it's being consumed. Freaky stuff.

When I gave up alcohol, there was a period where reality felt like overcooked noodles.


I swear I hear a violin playing in the background that fades off when I try to listen for it



And time flows weird. Like I felt like I have lived for months, not it's only a literal couple of hours. Or I think, wow I did that in 2 minutes, and the clock actually said it's 2+hours.

Here's my story - I remember everything. Every terrifying, confusing moment. Here goes. Have a history of complex trauma. My illness created something long and elaborate, so naturally this comment will be long and elaborate. This is difficult for me to share. I thought I could reduce my meds and was under extreme levels of several stressful life events, good and bad, lined up in quick succession. That's the kicker. That's what did it.

I truly believed I was on a special mission from God. I thought I was chosen and that my friends and family were possessed and persecuting me. Animals seemed kind because they sensed something holy in me. Colors around me exploded like bright mosaics. I believed movies were a prophecy about me, that I was destined for something extraordinary.

One day, while on a walk, I tripped and fell in front of a church. To me, it was a sign that I had to be baptized, or my life would be doomed.

When my dog was pregnant with a litter of puppies, I was convinced it was part of God’s plan — that I had to keep one of the litter to fulfill a divine purpose. But when I asked a lady to help rehome the puppies, I became terrified, thinking she was possessed by demons trying to ruin God’s plan. I believed I was the reincarnation of Jesus, carrying His spirit.

When my dog was spayed, I was terrified. My head said it was the right thing, but my illness screamed no. Afterward, I believed that procedure had “spayed” my own potential - that my spiritual and feminine energy had been corrupted beyond repair. I thought death and resurrection were the only ways to save me. At this point I should have gone to my doctor and told him everything but I was living solo and didn't think I was ill, just spiritually attuned.

So I wandered into freezing wilderness, thinking I might die but also simultaneously that God would somehow protect me. I became dangerously cold and exhausted, then returned home and drank warm tea to survive.

I went weeks without food or water, convinced my salvation depended on following strict “holy rules” like a video game - where good and bad actions affected my spiritual health, taking or adding points. Objects, clothes, even people had sacred or dark energies. I believed my left hand was “bad,” my right hand “good.” I was severely starving and dehydrated which worsened my experience.

A demon spoke through me, promising salvation if I obeyed his strict commands. I tried to purge the demon with a very hot shower, but it didn’t work.

Eventually, I believed I had died and was trapped alone with no other living thing in this purgatory realm, punished for trying to end my life. I thought God and heaven no longer existed, and that Satan ruled everything.

I saw Satan watching me in my house. He had sharp teeth and the eyes of a predatory snake. He was salivating. He could read my thoughts. Satan told me my family had died because I hadn't converted them to Christianity. He possessed my "dead" body in another timeline/plane of existence in the hospital I had "died" in. I believed paramedics had implanted a chip in my brain after I had died, condemning me to eternal, virtual, solitary suffering. There was the virtual world created by the chip, and the outside real world I could not access or sense. In a way, this elaborate delusion wasn't wrong in the existential sense. My mind was indeed creating a world of its own, separate from real reality.

A friend helped get me to safety, but I thought the world was an artificial holographic prison created by Satan and others. I wouldn’t eat or drink, fearing poison or spiritual corruption, often both.

When my [got] to the hospital, I thought it was Satan’s headquarters. I saw staff as demons. The hospital was a labyrinth of hell. I believed my cross necklace was the only protection.

I refused most food and water, terrified it was made from human remains or “demonic” ingredients. I felt putrefying disgust and horror every time I ate, convinced demons were forcing me into sins I couldn’t undo.

After months of aggressive treatment, the delusions faded. I began eating again and was eventually discharged.

I can’t fully explain the terror I experienced. It was beyond anything I imagined. This happened as I was making progress in my life and career, and it nearly destroyed me. A really s****y experience all round. I have to start all over again. This is the third time in my twenties I have had to start again and rebuild.

But I'm still here, somehow. Sharing this helps me feel a bit less alone and maybe it can help others feel this way too. It was pure hell; the horrors of a highly creative imagination brought to terrifying life. I don't ever want to experience anything like that ever again.

When I get sick sometimes (flu/cold) I do experience psychosis, and its to the point that I tie myself to the bed when I feel it coming, just so I don't get myself in trouble.
Its kinda hard to explain the experience. Its always the same. Its a hallucination where something mundane suddenly feels huge, and that its multiplying itself. It feels as if this thing will in an instant multiply so much that it will fill the whole universe, and everyone will die. And its somehow my fault.
When its hits, I feel like I'm having a panic attack, because of how dire this crisis is. I cannot think straight. There's only fear. One time, it felt like toilet paper rolls were filling up the space in my room, So I ran to my balcony and began throwing out the rolls, but they never lessened.
I feel so afraid when it happens that I am willing to do anything to make the fear go away.

I saw people standing in my room just watching me while I slept. I asked them who they were & why they were there but they would only smile & not answer me. I also saw little birds coming out of my bathtub drain one at a time. I called my mother to show her & ask her how that was even possible. Yea, I ended up 5150'd. I'm glad I didn't see anything horrifying!

I have bipolar and was diagnosed but not on a strong enough dose of meds. My most severe delusions were related to the devil, who I thought was stalking and following me. I was on a holiday visiting my mom. I wasn’t in full blown psychosis so I knew to hide it. I thought the devil was hiding in the furnace room. She took me out on a kayak and I saw the sky reveal itself to be another sky that was red and hellfire and the devil was enormous. We saw some bald eagles in their nest and I thought they were the devil’s minions. My family kept asking me why I was so agitated. That was fun. A few days later and a med increase, the delusions calmed down but I got really obsessed with the Bible for a bit. I’m not religious at all.

Worst: a premonition that took over every aspect of my life and I thought would result in my death, leading me to an intensive outpatient program (one of a few reasons). I've crafted some of the way it "came true" and found ways to grow from it.
Funniest: when I was younger I was entirely convinced one night that all my socks were puppies that I had to take care of. I don't remember how amused my mom was, ha.

The worst episodes for me tend to happen when I'm walking somewhere alone, I'll see people peaking out from behind cars, bins, corners, whatever, watching me, and if I look away, they get closer, often times they're horribly malformed, bordering inhuman, if I look away long enough, I can hear and feel them running towards me at full speed, I can almost see it from their perspective, it's like I'm being hunted for sport, only, the hunter can teleport and enjoys scaring me.

I would say the most delusional I got certainly wasn’t the “worst” experience. It was magical, mystical even, and I suppose that was the issue. I woke up one day and thought the trees were people. It wasn’t a hallucination - I didn’t see a human person when looking at a tree. I saw a tree. But I could also sense its body, clothes, and personality. I liked elms the best, they were like regal ladies dressed in flowing leaf ball gowns. Whatever in your brain classifies things in the world as “people” vs “objects” had shifted to include trees as people. It felt like an ancient earthly secret and tbh even though I am not in active psychosis anymore I don’t quite look at trees the same some days. There will always be something more within them.

Sitting alone in my apartment with my dog of 14 (at the time) years. To me he looked like he was going to lunge and k**l me. It was a battle of who was going to k**l who first. The psychosis was so strong I literally almost k****d my dog. Thankfully I am now medicated and my pupper is still with me, turning 16 this month.

Whoever’s reading this, you have permission to laugh:

When I was in high school, I often had rapid cycling with mania, depression, and a s**t ton of mixed episodes. One thing I’ve noticed is that when my manic episodes start, the *”theme”* of my episode would be the last thing I was interested in.

So in summer 2023, I gained a huge interest in the song “Teir Abhaile Riu” by Celtic Woman. It’s catchy, mesmerizing, and I played that song on repeat like it was no tomorrow. Cue the manic episode, I started increasingly obsessing over Irish culture and researching everything about Ireland for days and nights on end which soon turned into an obsession over if I’m Irish myself.

Now mind you, my mother is African American and my dad is Trinidadian. Any reasonable person would understand that there’s not a single drop of Irish in my blood (that I know of at least). But wait- it gets worse! So I started using ancestry.com and tried my HARDEST to find a spec of Irish somewhere in my family. Why? Because in my mind, I thought that if I were to find someone who’s Irish in my family, I would be able to live with them in Ireland, leaving my entire life behind me. I remember telling my mother a lot, “I’m going to move to Ireland and never come back”.

Long story short, I didn’t find anything- but that was when I had another idea to try and convince my mother to buy an AncestryDNA test to find out that way instead. My mom said no because it’s too expensive, so in return, I went on the internet and tried to sell myself for money for the DNA test. And well… I made the money! But I think this is when the spiral started happening and the depressive episode started to kick in because I genuinely don’t remember anything after this point.

Shoot, I didn’t even mention the parts of how many times I embarrassed myself publicly on my instagram story with spamming a s**t ton of different things about Ireland. I made a *lot* of people uncomfortable, and it sucks because not only did I not have a good support system to get me treatment—but also I didn’t understand the gravity of my actions *until* it was all over.

By the way, the money I got didn’t end up going to the DNA test, I spent it all on a huge platter of sushi.

I suffered from delusional disorder and psychosis. I had an imaginary relationship with a woman named Lvy. I thought she was sending me messages and emails. Unfortunately, the replies I sent to these imaginary emails and messages did exist. I was sending these replies to colleagues, friends, and even some of my students. One of my students responded pretending to be Lvy and we ended up having a year long relationship during which I alternated between thinking she was Lvy and understanding who she was.

Ultimately, someone complained about getting weird messages from me and the university did an investigation into my messages. I didn't know Lvy wasn't real until I was put on antipsychotics.

I lost my career and marriage.

I was walking home from work in 2021 and smelled smoke. I was convinced, sure, positive than my house had burned down while I was at work. I rushed home and stood on the sidewalk crying, because I swear my house was charred.
I was able to snap out of it relatively quickly by going up to my porch and touching my house, but I'll never forget the feeling of horror and the certainly that my house had completely burned.