Isolation

       I would like to write again but I'm so incredibly devoid of inspiration. Guess this is me setting the intention and broadcasting it out there into the ether. 

11/10, Please don't ever do that again.

So I've had this realization recently that people can tell me things, (friends, doctors, cab drivers) and it's absolutely meaningless. I mean, it's all just words and I can nod along and smile and say "Yes, that makes sense", but it's all nothing to me until I come to it in my own time. I have these massive epiphanies where it seems like the heavens open up and a choir of fucking angels herald this amazing new insight into my very nature and that of the universe itself, and it's actually the most basic and simple piece of information that has been set before me about a million times before, but my mind just slid past it, wrapped securely in its cuddly warm blanket composed of nothing but pure blind spot.

Case in point, I've been told countless times when seeking help that it is extremely normal to feel as though mental health professionals will think you're putting it on when you show up and start listing your symptoms. They won't, but they know you're probably worrying about it. It's also quite normal to question it yourself. Am I making this up? Have I convinced myself that this is all much worse than it is? Did I decide to be like this? Did I make myself this way? Is this ALL MY FAULT? Again, the actual really real answer is, emphatically, "NO". But it's totally normal to blame yourself and think that it is.

And I've always nodded along, and thought, yeah sure, okay. That's probably very normal. But I don't REALLY think that. I don't REALLY believe that. And then one morning you find yourself  waking at 4 a.m. unable to get back to sleep because of the relentless noise of your brain digging through its own detritus with a goddamned microscope. A silent argument of epic proportions ensues, and suddenly it's almost 3 hours later and you're sobbing on the couch shocked at the realization that you've ALWAYS blamed yourself. You always thought you were SO damned special and different, and that nobody understood you, not really, so of course you grew up and CHOSE to be a bloody schizophrenic, you egotistical fuck, and now you can't even understand yourself, and doesn't that just make you pleased as punch, you absolute fucking wank stain?

Of course, the rest of the day is spent drinking far too many cups of tea, quietly apologizing to myself and promising to up my self care game to levels that it has never actually reached, let alone maintained, whilst having a rousing game of blast-all-my-most-emo-playlists-and-sing-along. I mean, I'm awarding my brain an 11/10 on the fuckery scale. Cheers for that, from one wank stain to another. Let's never do that again. Except I'm sure we will, because if there's one thing I have learned, it's that no matter how many epic epiphanies I have, the amount of actual, useful information I retain is negligible, at best.

So, yes, welcome to 2017. It's going to be a year.

October 2016

Yeah, I know, it's been ages since I bothered posting. The meds really helped me through a rough time, but the truth is I didn't have the energy to DO anything. So I went off them at 6 months, and things have been okay. I don't mean HALLELUJAH I AM CURED perfect or anything, but okay. I'm still mildly positive symptomatic and moderately negative symptomatic, if I'm being honest, but I'm functioning and happy most of the time.

I'm posting more because I've been noticing things, and feeling things lately that I wasn't before. I'm feeling super burnt out by being inundated with "relate able" anxiety and depression posts lately. I must see 20 (at least) each day posted on Facebook, shared each time by multiple friends. I'm glad they feel safe enough to talk so openly about things, and I can relate to them too, to a certain extent, but in the end I wind up feeling detached and othered. My issues and experiences are just different, at their root, so these things are ultimately not "for me", I guess.

But it has had the effect of making me look inward. I'm starting to recognize my natural coping mechanisms, and how they might come off to others. I am constantly on my phone (this is a normal thing for loads of people, I know), and I know that there is a school of thought that finds this rude. I do this to keep my mind occupied. I need to keep a certain level of focus on something going on quite a lot of the time. Time alone with my thoughts can almost feel dangerous. It is far easier to slip into delusional thinking than it is to claw my way back out again, once I'm in it. So I unconsciously (mostly) am constantly finding ways to do that.

Another thing I've noticed is how much socializing actually tires me out. There is a small circle of people I feel comfortable enough with that this doesn't happen, but anyone outside that circle is a completely different matter. Meeting a person outside the circle for lunch means I will have zero desire to interact with people for days or more. I'm withdrawing on line as well. Leaving groups where I feel overwhelmed by the sheer amount of people/emotions. It's hard to offer up an explanation to people for this. I don't really have one, it just feels like something I need to do at the moment, and I trust my instincts more than I trust my mind.

*insert witty title*

    Yes, yes, I went silent for a bit. I'm very unmotivated at the moment, and it's seeping through everywhere. My 2 week trial of my new med (Quetiapine) is almost over, so I'm once again spending my mornings desperately trying to get through to my doctor's surgery to get an appointment. I'm feeling a bit optimistic about this drug. I don't feel a complete zombie on it, and it certainly helps with the anxiety a bit. I'm on a super low dose at the moment, though, (lower than any dose used to treat anything) so it's not exactly doing the job yet. But it's better than it was, so I guess I'm hopeful that an actual dose will get me somewhere.
     I find myself torn between a desire to run from my delusions and an almost pathological desire to examine and understand them. My head is full of white noise. When the voices are quiet, they touch me. And again I'm torn between wanting to know why and wanting to just not feel things that aren't there. There's a dimness in people's eyes when they look at me, that I interpret as judgement. As if they think I'm making this all up. That I could make this stop if I just tried harder. 
     I worry most, still, about Jim worrying. I feel like he's waiting for me to be who I was, like he can't see that I am, already. I have to keep reminding myself that I don't actually know what it is he's thinking and feeling. My head feels heavy with the burden of reminding myself of what I know to be true. I have to step into the whirlwind of static and list everything I know just to pull myself out, like hitting a reset button.
     
I think this probably reads worse to the layperson than it actually is.

     I can do it. Not only am I capable of pulling myself back into reality, but I remember to do it quite often. That's huge. I mean, that's everything, basically. 

     And while I'm completely unmotivated to *actually* get anything done, I have a ton of ideas for things I want to do. I've been looking up name meanings, as I want to write a story. I'm preparing to take up crocheting (again). I'm reading a fantastic novel, and I've got my learn to speak Dothraki book and cd ready to start. I'm also desperate to top up my art supplies and start painting again. And I've got a new tattoo in the works. So loads to do, if I can just push myself to start.
     Also, I managed not to put back on tons of weight over Christmas. I did gain back a little over a lb, but that still has me 3 lbs from my goal weight. I'm trying a ketogenic diet, as there has been some evidence that it can help with managing symptoms of schizophrenia.
     That is where I'm at, I guess. Slight improvement, still lots of work to do.

Swings and Roundabouts

Sleep paralysis has returned. I mean, they never really stopped, but they were short and panic attack-less and just generally less intense. So that's... fun. Or the other thing. Vile. I can't even hide in sleep now. 
     In other news, I've got my initial assessment in just 2 days. So at least I don't have to hold out too much longer for help. I really hate feeling like this. Like my insides are hollow and the world is underwater and everything is wobbly and I'm not even swimming in it or floating really. More like I'm drowning, except I suspect I'd feel more if I was drowning.
     Mostly, I'm just tired. Tired of pretending I'm okay all the time. Tired of feeling like I should be able to will myself well. Tired of feeling like I have to justify myself. Tired of fighting my own mind. 

Finally!

Got in to see the GP. She was lovely, and sympathetic, and gave me an urgent referral. I'm to contact her in 3 weeks if I haven't been contacted to set up an appointment by then. I was a mess. Really nervous and twitchy. I didn't realise how afraid I was of getting turned away, or told I was imagining it or that I basically just need to buck up. I think people want to tell you "You're okay" because they think that that's comforting. But when you can't trust your own judgement about anything other than the fact that you know you are NOT okay, that's the last fucking thing you want to hear. I had to hand her my little notebook with my recent symptoms. Here, I can't think, but I made you this list when I wasn't a ball of nerves. It was good, though. I'm really hopeful that this will help.
     Yesterday was a good day, (loads of sleep, good experience at gp's office), but today is proving a bit hit or miss. I feel fine, mostly, but I caught myself having an old argument with the voices. One I've had many MANY times, but forgotten about. It's the one where the voices tell you that you're lying. You're FINE, this happens to everyone. It's perfectly normal, and you're just looking for attention, because you're basically human filth that doesn't follow the rules of shutting the fuck up about the secret unpleasantness that everyone deals with. And you ALMOST think the voice has a point, until you realise that you are standing on the side of the road, having an argument that is taking place entirely within your head, and the voice of the opposing party seems to be housed within a fucking pink wooden plank door in a goddamned fence. This fence door, as a matter of fact.

                                                               (Sorry if this is your door!)

Can you even imagine? Sure, maybe you're right and I've actually just decided I was bored with being happy and really desperately wanted people to look at me like I'm a fucking aberration except no, you're a fucking door, and this is definitely not something normal people would do. Plus, you look fucking ridiculous. So fuck off. I suppose the upside to this one is that the entire argument happened in my head, so at least there's that.
      Anyway, hanging on and hoping to get assessed soon. Have come round full circle and am almost hoping the suggest meds, at least in the short term. It would take the pressure off to fix this all myself. In the meantime I will just concentrate on trying to take the best possible care of myself I can, and hope it has a positive effect.

Holding pattern

Still attempting to get in to see the GP before they break up for Christmas. While I wait for that, I've been researching resources on line. There is so much out there I wasn't aware of. I've learned about TUFR and WRAP, and Rethink. I've found out that there is an Twitter community using the #schizotribe hashtag to connect with and support each other. There is so much more information readily available than there was 20 years ago. It is really encouraging and, I think, empowering.
     I'm going to go out and get myself a notebook. In it, I'll list all my positive and negative symptoms, past and present. Everything I can remember, everything I can put into words. Then I'm going to make myself up a chart. A sort of weekly grading system, so I can monitor my symptoms and my stress, keep myself aware of when and where I'm slipping. I was mainly "asymptomatic" for 18 years without meds, and whether or not I wind up back on them, there is no reason why I shouldn't be again. I'm tragically disorganized by nature, but I think having a self assessment method in place will help me both long and short term. In the short term, it will give me a reference of concrete things I can share with my GP and whomever I get referred to from there. In the long term, it should make self care much easier, as I will be able to see ahead of time when I need to go easier on myself, or seek out assistance.
     As for my current state, I am mostly settled into the aftermath, the negative symptoms, with only the occasional delusional thought process or minor visual/auditory/tactile hallucination  popping up. It is usually a momentary thing that is easily packed away, now. My motivation, on the other hand, is at zero. My ability to concentrate is severely limited at this point, and my self care is suffering, although not so much so that it's terribly noticeable to others. I'm still a bit withdrawn emotionally, and finding it very hard to relax. I'm aware of all this, though, so working to find ways to stop withdrawing.