I was diagnosed with "psychotic depression" about eighteen months ago. My son had been aware of me seeing things that weren't there from... well, I suppose forever. I'd always been so scared and suspicious of doctors that I'd steered clear of them for as long as I could, so it took my original pdoc a while to notice some anomalies in my mental health records (like being arrested multiple times one year, presenting to the doctor with sleeplessness and loss of weight) etc.

Things got worse after the diagnoses of psychotic depression, so they kept trying to find out what was wrong, and this time I was so desparate I told them what was going on in my head, and they diagnosed schizoaffective disorder. I'd always hidden my worst symptoms, like voices, or seeing things that nobody else could.

Although I used to get loads of hallucinations, they're much rarer now, which made this Cheshire cat thing more upsetting... but I have to put it in perspective. It's just a random thing... and at least this time I figured out that it wasn't real.

Oh, and I've spoken to my son about this in the past. He's known for years, God help him, that his mother isn't always the most reliable of witnesses... that I see things. He says he stopped believing in my hallucinations when he was seven. Which makes me sad I didn't seek help sooner... thank God he's resilient.