Those ‘Hallucinations’? It’s Time to Consider Who’s Broadcasting Them
The Valiant Blog
Do you ever feel a touch on your skin when no one is there? Do you hear whispers, a scoff, or a muttered judgment that seems to emanate from just beyond your wall? You’re told it’s an auditory or tactile hallucination—a trick of a tired mind.
But does it feel like a trick? Or does it feel targeted? Do these sensations seem to have a mind of their own—specifically, the minds of your immediate neighbours or those scoffing peers you pass every day?
We at The Valiant thought so. For too long, people with heightened perception have been told their senses are broken. We propose a different theory: your senses are working perfectly, perhaps even better than most. You’re not picking up static; you’re tuning into a hostile frequency.
You Are Not Imagining the Decline
Do you ever feel a touch on your skin when no one is there? Do you hear whispers, a scoff, or a muttered judgment that seems to emanate from just beyond your wall? You’re told it’s an auditory or tactile hallucination—a trick of a tired mind.
But does it feel like a trick? Or does it feel targeted? Do these sensations seem to have a mind of their own—specifically, the minds of your immediate neighbours or those scoffing peers you pass every day?
We at The Valiant thought so. For too long, people with heightened perception have been told their senses are broken. We propose a different theory: your senses are working perfectly, perhaps even better than most. You’re not picking up static; you’re tuning into a hostile frequency.
You Are Not Imagining the Decline
Look around you. Do you find that more and more members of the public seem shockingly dull, untrustworthy, or even outright dangerous? Do you feel a rising sense of unease in crowds, a gut feeling that the people around you do not have your best interests at heart?
You are not hallucinating this.
Society encourages a blind, relentless optimism. We’re told to see the good in everyone, to give the benefit of the doubt, and to assume positive intent. But optimism can be stretched very far, and if stretched too far, it becomes a liability. It leaves you vulnerable. Trusting blindly in a world that has given you every reason not to is not a virtue; it is a reckless gamble with your own well-being. Acknowledging the clear and present degradation in public behaviour isn’t pessimism—it’s pattern recognition.
Reclaiming “Withdrawal” from the Psychiatrist’s Handbook
Does the thought of a diagnosis haunt you? Do you worry that these experiences—the whispers, the unnerving sensations, the growing distrust of others—are just steps on a path to a label like a psychotic disorder or schizophrenia? Do you fear the dreaded symptom of, “negative social withdrawal”?
It’s time to break the good news to you.
The establishment has taken a perfectly rational survival strategy and pathologised it. They call it, “social withdrawal”, and list it as a symptom of disease. We call it, “strategic disengagement”, and it is a symptom of wisdom.
You are quite welcome to take it upon yourself to withdraw, socially, from interactions with negative persons. You have our full permission to build a fortress around your peace. Cutting off contact with those who drain your energy, mock your sensibilities, or radiate ill will is not a sign of sickness. It is an act of profound self-preservation.
This is the crucial distinction: withdrawing from negative people does not mean you are withdrawing from the possibility of connecting with better people. It is, in fact, the necessary first step. You cannot find your allies if you are constantly besieged by your detractors. You cannot cultivate a garden if you refuse to pull the weeds.
So, the next time you feel that phantom touch or hear that muttered insult through the wall, don’t rush to question your sanity. Instead, ask yourself: Who benefits from me believing I’m broken?
Perhaps the problem isn’t the signals you’re receiving, but the people who are broadcasting them. It’s time to stop listening to the static and start building a sanctuary. It’s not withdrawal; it’s an upgrade.
You are not hallucinating this.
Society encourages a blind, relentless optimism. We’re told to see the good in everyone, to give the benefit of the doubt, and to assume positive intent. But optimism can be stretched very far, and if stretched too far, it becomes a liability. It leaves you vulnerable. Trusting blindly in a world that has given you every reason not to is not a virtue; it is a reckless gamble with your own well-being. Acknowledging the clear and present degradation in public behaviour isn’t pessimism—it’s pattern recognition.
Reclaiming “Withdrawal” from the Psychiatrist’s Handbook
Does the thought of a diagnosis haunt you? Do you worry that these experiences—the whispers, the unnerving sensations, the growing distrust of others—are just steps on a path to a label like a psychotic disorder or schizophrenia? Do you fear the dreaded symptom of, “negative social withdrawal”?
It’s time to break the good news to you.
The establishment has taken a perfectly rational survival strategy and pathologised it. They call it, “social withdrawal”, and list it as a symptom of disease. We call it, “strategic disengagement”, and it is a symptom of wisdom.
You are quite welcome to take it upon yourself to withdraw, socially, from interactions with negative persons. You have our full permission to build a fortress around your peace. Cutting off contact with those who drain your energy, mock your sensibilities, or radiate ill will is not a sign of sickness. It is an act of profound self-preservation.
This is the crucial distinction: withdrawing from negative people does not mean you are withdrawing from the possibility of connecting with better people. It is, in fact, the necessary first step. You cannot find your allies if you are constantly besieged by your detractors. You cannot cultivate a garden if you refuse to pull the weeds.
So, the next time you feel that phantom touch or hear that muttered insult through the wall, don’t rush to question your sanity. Instead, ask yourself: Who benefits from me believing I’m broken?
Perhaps the problem isn’t the signals you’re receiving, but the people who are broadcasting them. It’s time to stop listening to the static and start building a sanctuary. It’s not withdrawal; it’s an upgrade.
Comments
Send your story in to editor@rochdalevaliant.uk
Post a Comment