I’m having these physical responses to dating.

Like the first one I was so anxious about the lack of conversation, I started to break out in a sweat.

Or maybe that was from the real fucking crowded restaurant we were at.

And then the date today?

Well, I got super fucking uncomfortable and started crying.

So much for playing it cool.

My fucking goodness.

I can’t believe that I broke the fuck down like that.

He was sweet too.

And I lost it.

Couldn’t stop crying.

He was super cool about it.

So that’s nice and made me feel even worse for crying.

(the next day) I feel drained from trying to date.

Like physically exhausted as it all sets in.

I feel dizzy today, and my fatigue is through the roof.

I walked Bruce and had to cut the walk short because I keep getting this woozy feeling.

My eyes can’t focus on anything.

If I shut them the room starts slowly spinning.

I have to lay down to write this.

Because I don’t want to over do anything.

I don’t want to burn myself out on dating before I really even start.

And I don’t know what to think about anything today.

I feel tired and worn out.

And that was just date number two.

I also am pretty raspy and phlegmy this week from quitting smoking.

I heard that this happens.

All the gunk that’s been accumulated in my throat is moving around now.

I’m no longer sucking tar down my throat and smoking and everything is getting all moved around and loosening up.

Quitting smoking is hard on top of everything else.

Maybe that’s it.

Maybe I’m actually telling myself to just do one thing at a time.

Maybe that’s the lesson.

Because I do feel overwhelmed.

I feel like the antipsychotics don’t give me much to talk about either.

Like my chatting meter is at empty and won’t move for anything.

(a few hours later) It’s like I feel like I don’t have anything to talk about in general.

When someone asks me what I’m thinking, normally, since antipsychotics, I don’t think of much if I’m not writing.

Writing is the one time I’m really reflective.

Because nothing, literally nothing, goes through my head a lot.

There’s nothing going on up there.

And people don’t believe it and I don’t know why.

The medications that I’m on quiet my mind so much that they even quiet a lot of my thoughts on top of the voices and hallucinations.

Which is nice in a way.

But it’s torture on the other hand.

Because I feel like I can’t feel.

I can’t emote and think at the same time.

I can’t think and talk at the same time.

Like I can’t walk and chew gum at the same time – like that.

Two random things that are totally doable together and I can’t do them simultaneously.

It’s outside of my grasp.

I’m under my limitations.

And I don’t have the capacity.

And maybe that’s just my ceiling right now.

And maybe I get there a lot quicker than before.

I know I wear out quicker than ever.

But I’ve been hurt so much in the past I’m not used to sincere affection.

I’m not used to someone being sweet to me.

And being sincere.

It’s almost uncomfortable for me.

When it should be invigorating.

Inspiring.

Not anxiety producing.

I don’t know what’s gotten into me other than fear.

I’m anxious that I’ll fail at dating but there’s no pressure from anyone but myself to be “better” enough.

That line is so subjective.

And terrifying.

When will I be better?

When will I have enough strength to get out and go find people to hang out with?

I need friends and I’ve done a terrible job of taking care of my social side the last few years.

I feel like I’m incapable of loving someone.

Maybe my ex-husbands drunken yelling was onto something.

He used to scream at me nightly that I’m a piece of shit and incapable of understanding love.

Maybe he was right in a way.

I know he’s not, and wasn’t, but I don’t know how to feel loved.

I shut down, up and over.

(a couple hours later) And the biggest thing that I’m really concerned about is my paranoia and delusions acting up.

Especially when I’ve rejected someone.

In the past, I’ve had a guy I went on a couple of dates with break out my back windshield with his fists and wait for me outside of my house in the bushes after I rejected him.

Fucked up shit, even though it was years ago.

Shit like that does happen.

So I get a touch more paranoid than most sometimes.

Because it happens.

I’ve seen it.

I kept having flashes yesterday of someone ruining my blog site because I rejected them.

I think most people will be fine, but I’ve had it happen before, what’s stopping it from happening again?

Nothing really.

It makes me super fucking anxious to think about it.

And of course, that’s instantly where my mind goes.

Oh no they’re gonna hack all my shit and steal everything, take away all my writings and everything else from me.

I know that’s probably not going to happen.

But it could.

And that’s a big thing with my disorder, the possibility of it happening just wakes up my irrational symptoms.

I think I get paranoid that someone will take away my new life.

Like, if I get involved with a person and we end up being toxic for each other, will I go back to where I was years ago?

Can I get to that level of anosognosia again?

I don’t know.

That’s what makes it so fucking scary.

Maybe if the psychosis is strong enough?

If I deny what I’m going through, will I just be tossed off to the side when it shows up?

Is guarding my mental illness the real way to go?

Or be an open book?

Or both and then some?

I don’t know the answer.

I don’t know how to stop this dizzy feeling.

I’ve been laying down a lot today.

(a moment later) I just realized that I took a Haloperidol before each date.

Maybe I shouldn’t do that.

Maybe it’s planting something subconscious about symptoms or not being well enough, and I’m not realizing it.

– Keren