Into the Shadows

Living with Bipolar Disorder Type 1 can be a terrifying and isolating experience, particularly when psychotic symptoms manifest during manic episodes. In these moments, reality becomes distorted, and the world around you shifts into something far more menacing. For me, these episodes bring hallucinations of shadow people, swirling portals, and light-filled spiders creeping from every corner. I feel bugs crawling under my skin. These experiences are not just surreal – they are deeply real in the moment, consuming my thoughts, my senses, my entire being.

The story I've written reflects the hallucinations I've experienced during my most recent (and current) manic episode. It serves as a haunting "what if" scenario – a glimpse into an alternative future where I might give in to my mental illness, where the shadows would finally claim me. The story is filled with the terror and resignation that comes from living on the edge of reality, but it’s more than just a narrative. It’s a reflection of my fight, of the importance of advocating for mental illness treatment, and why this cause holds a special place in my heart.

Too often, people with mental health disorders like mine suffer in silence, afraid of the stigma, of being misunderstood, or of losing control altogether. It's critical that we talk about this and that we advocate for accessible, compassionate treatment for those struggling with their mental health. For me, this is not just advocacy – it’s survival. My journey with bipolar has taught me how vital it is to reach out for help, to find support, and to know that these experiences, while terrifying, can be managed with the right care.

Sharing my story isn’t easy, but I hope it helps others understand the reality of living with bipolar disorder and the urgent need for better mental health resources. No one should feel like their only option is to give in to the shadows. There is light, even in the darkest of moments. 

The shadows always start at the edges. I see them in the corners of my vision, drifting like smoke, waiting. They never rush. No, they’re patient. So agonisingly patient. I pretend not to notice. Pretend that I can just live my day like anyone else, but I know better. They wait until the portals appear. The first time it happened, I didn’t understand. The colours – purple, pink, and blue – swirled in midair like the inside of a kaleidoscope. Only it was pulling at me, sucking me in. My heartbeat quickened. Pounding in my ears, trying to drown out the whispers. But the vortex never lets me ignore it. It’s a doorway, and on the other side, I know they’re waiting.

The shadow people.

They don’t look at me, but I feel their hunger. Their intentions. I can feel the pull of the shadow realm through those portals, the way they lure me in with soft swirling lights that mask the terror on the other side. The colours seduce me into stepping closer. Just one step too far, and I’ll be theirs. They want to hurt me. They want me dead. I don’t know how I know, but I feel it in my bones. The way they slither in and out of my life, creeping through the cracks, seeping through the walls, invading my every moment. I don’t just see them anymore – I feel them. Under my skin. That’s the worst part. The bugs. They crawl beneath the surface. Wriggling and shifting, leaving trails that throb and itch. I scratch and scratch, but I can’t reach them. I can’t pull them out. I know they’re tracking me with those bugs, that they’ve planted them there so they’ll always be able to find me. Whenever they want. I feel them now. Crawling in my veins. The sensation is unbearable. A constant reminder that I can never escape. I can see the faint glow of light spiders creeping through the cracks in the ceiling, through the lightbulbs, from the sun itself. They’re everywhere, always watching. Their webs wrapping tighter around me. Each string pulls me closer to the shadows. To the waiting darkness.

There’s no rest. Every moment of every day, I live in fear that they’ll finally pull me into their world. And it’s not just the bugs or the portals, or even the shadow people themselves – it’s the knowledge that I can’t run. Even if I hide. Even if I close my eyes and try to block out the shadows, they’ll find me. They always do. I am marked. I can feel them eating me from the inside. Bit by bit.

I’m terrified. Petrified.

But there’s nowhere to go.

The colours pulse again – purple, pink, and blue swirling like a store. A vortex spinning in slow, deliberate spirals. I stand at the edge, where reality frays into chaos. The shadows have been waiting for this moment, haven’t they? I can feel the last shred of my sanity dangling by a thread. Fragile. Weak. Barely holding on. The bugs under my skin are writhing, relentless now. They’re buzzing so loud I can hardly think. They’re winning. My hands shake as I run my fingers over my arms, my chest, trying to feel for any hint of relief. But there’s none. Just the crawling, the itching, the sensation of being consumed from the inside. The shadow people move closer. Their faces nothing but empty spaces. Voids. I can sense their hunger. Their need to take what’s left of me. I could fight them – I’ve been fighting for so long – but the exhaustion is overwhelming. There’s no point, not anymore. They’ve already claimed every inch of my life. My thoughts. My reality.

The portal opens wider. The swirling vortex grows stronger, pulling the air from my lungs, tugging me towards it like gravity. I stumble forward. The colours stretching out like hands ready to catch me. And then, for the first time, I don’t resist. I let them. The moment I give in, the bugs beneath my skin intensify. I can feel them burrowing deeper, spreading through every nerve, every muscle. But this time, I don’t fight them. There’s no point. I feel their tracks being traced back to the shadow people. A lifeline connecting me to them, making me theirs. My breath hitches as I step closer to the swirling light. It’s almost beautiful. The colours are so vibrant. Mesmerising. I reach out, and the shadows surge forward, wrapping around my limbs like smoke. They’re cold. So cold it burns. I shiver as they creep up my arms, across my chest, and around my throat.

I’m not afraid anymore. The fear has been swallowed by numbness. By resignation. I don’t care. Let them take me. Let them pull me into the shadow realm. Let them pull me into the shadow realm. I’m done fighting. As I step into the portal, the world shifts. The light changes. No longer swirling. No longer vibrant. It’s dark. Endless, suffocating darkness that presses against my skin. The shadow people are all around me now, their void-like faces turned towards me. Watching. I can feel their whispers slithering into my mind, cold tendrils of thought wrapping around my brain. Squeezing tighter. Taking control.

I take my last breath, and the shadows tighten their trip. My sanity – the last fragile piece of me shatters, dissolving into nothing. I am theirs now. Completely. The bugs have done their job, leading me here. They’re no longer under my skin. No longer a part of me.

I can’t feel them.

I can’t feel anything.

The darkness is complete.

My final breath slips away into the void.

And then…

There is nothing.