My brain feels shriveled after that psychotic episode this last week.

I’m just now resurfacing.

It’s Saturday and I still can’t think properly.

My body is fucking killing me.

I mean, I’ve been walking more lately – trying to lose this excess weight, so I expected to be sore, but damn.

I feel bruised all over.

My muscles feel like I worked out super hardcore for like eight hours the day before.

I feel like a ton of bricks.

I know Bruce is feeling it too.

He’s been jumpy the past couple of days and I know it’s from my psychotic episode.

I was talking to myself out loud a lot, and loudly at times, and I was walking super fast on our walks, stopping, talking to myself and the voices, and then stopping again to pet him and cry because I was trying to ground myself as much as I could.

It was a shit show.

It always is.

I know I stress him out sometimes and it breaks my heart.

The past few days, anytime I start talking to myself he gets up and just stares at me.

Watching over me.

I try to tell him it’s okay and that I’m just having hallucinations.

That he doesn’t need to worry.

I tell him when I’m just talking to the tv too.

I try to keep him informed because I know he worries.

He came up on the couch today and kept giving me his little doggo hugs.

He does this adorable thing where he puts his head on my shoulder and leans into me, puts all of his weight on me.

He trust falls on me a lot too.

It’s fucking precious and I love when he does it.

He’s been cuddling a lot lately in general, which is wonderful.

He’s not always the most cuddly dog, but I love it when he is, it makes my heart melt.

I feel terrible about all of the episodes I went through with him.

Freaking him the fuck out.

Oof.

If I think about it for too long, I’ll start crying.

So, anyway.

I just feel drained.

I had a dental appointment today.

I chipped that tooth on my birthday weekend.

Nice present, huh?

Fuck.

But I went in and got X Rayed and whatnot.

My periodontal disease has gotten much better which is super fucking exciting!

I’m officially again able to have a deep cleaning done by them to get back on track.

And then I have to do cleanings every three months for a while.

Then it’s back down to every six months once they feel my gums have been healed enough to do that.

It’s fucking exciting!

Last time I saw them they referred me out because my gums were too swollen and irritated.

This time, I’ve been doing a lot better with my self care, so I was able to bring them to a point where they can work on them again.

Super stoked!

I’ve been working on trying to have better hygiene in general and it’s starting to show, it looks like.

I cried tears of happiness and told the hygienist I have a really hard time with self care due to my schizoaffective disorder.

She told me she totally gets it and deals with mental illness herself and struggles with it at times as well.

She ended up giving me her number so we can be friends!

We texted today.

It’s nice to make friends, and have better, healthier teeth.

I hate the dentist, but that was a good appointment.

I’m fucking elated that my gums are getting better too.

I’ve been doing what I need to do to get them there.

The work is paying off.

Although I need to be better about getting my back molars, so I will.

I’ll be happy to get that chipped tooth fixed too.

That shit is sharp.

I started swishing with hydrogen peroxide after my purple Listerine regimen – hopefully that helps my gums too.

My left shoulder has been acting up.

I scheduled an injection for it but need to reschedule.

My ride can’t take me that day, which is totally fine.

It’s destined to happen at some point – scheduling conflicts.

But I asked her if she could take me if I booked out two weeks and she said yes.

So I gotta call them.

I’ve still been hearing people talk as I walk by their apartments this weekend.

In my head I think “fuck off” or “shut up” or even “shut the fuck up”, and they lose it.

The voices start going off, cussing me down one side and up the other.

They always react to me thinking “fuck you” or something mean like that.

Every. time.

They’re wretched, vile things.

This is how much psychosis fucks me up, I just gained a year of my life this weekend.

I’ll explain…

I swear on everything in my life that I turned 43 this year.

I was mourning my early 40’s already.

I didn’t want to do anything on my birthday.

I sat and cried for a while even.

Well, I’ve been thinking I’ve been here a year longer than I have been.

Thinking I’m 43 when I actually turned 42.

So delusional in the fact that I am 43, because I filled out this online registration with my phone the other day, and it auto populated my age when I plugged in my birthday.

I plugged it in, it said 42 and I just thought that it hadn’t updated since my birthday was so recently.

I thought the program was making an error on my age.

I legit saw 42 and said to myself no, that is incorrect, and believed myself and my brain, over the computers math.

What in the fuck?

And I didn’t know I was in an episode?

That happened before the guys started following me the other day.

Same day though, I’m pretty sure

It should’ve clicked earlier that I was in an episode because I was defiant that I knew my age, and I knew my math was better than the computer had done, and that there had to be something wrong with the program, because I’m obviously not 42, I’m 43.

But I am 42.

When my Mom corrected me this weekend I was fucking shocked.

I didn’t let onto my full blown shock because for a moment, I did think she was wrong, but milliseconds passed and I knew she was right.

2025-1983 is 42.

I had to plug it into my fucking calculator when she said that just to triple check.

And then it took till just now – it’s Monday at 4:48pm, and my Mom told me that on Sunday around 1:30pm, it took that long for it to click.

It took over 24 hours to fucking sink in that I was delusional about my age this last year.

And all of last year I thought I was 42.

ALL LAST YEAR.

I skipped over being 41.

I’m going to be 42 twice.

Motherfucker!

Damn that psychosis shit creeps in and royally fucks with me.

Wow.

It’s quite shocking really.

I’m shook.

How did my age not pop up or not auto populate like that all of last year?

Or did I hallucinate 42 when it popped up last year?

(I can’t recall)

How did this puzzle me so much?

How did my own fucking age get mixed up like that in my head?

Why does my brain actively work against me sometimes?

I went the whole year telling people I was 42.

Now I actually am 42.

Fuckin-a.

And it wasn’t until I started writing this entry right here that I realized I went the whole year thinking I was a year older than I am.

I forgot that I remembered it wrong.

– Keren