The past couple of weeks have been difficult.

And last weekend was really hard.

But I’ve been hanging out at my therapist’s office a lot.

There’s an art room there that’s just open most of the day for people to hang out in, and I can bring Bruce, so we’ve been taking advantage of it and hanging out.

And by we I mean Bruce and I.

Even though he lost it on the clinic director’s dog the other day.

Ha!

She was ushering her dog into her office and I didn’t realize that was who she was calling out to, and Bruce and I were walking down the hall to get water at the water cooler up front and Bruce saw her doggo and just lost it on him.

Barking, growling, ferocious as all get out, all of it.

So embarrassing.

Ha!

I apologized profusely for several minutes.

She is a dog person, so she gets it, and said the same thing happens at home, but I still feel horrible about it.

It’s not like this is his house, but we do spend a lot of time there and he’s come with me to therapy every week there for the last three years.

He likes to act like he owns the joint everywhere he goes.

He thinks he’s the only doggo that comes here.

Silly, territorial boy.

Anyway, this week has been tumultuous too, but it’s slowly leveling out as it passes.

I’ve been up and down instead of just pummeling and spiraling down like the last few weeks.

I’ve been on my higher dose of Levothyroxine for the past few days.

It’s been… four days now.

And I think it’s helping.

And therapy.

Therapy always helps a ton.

And I’ve gone to group therapy all week too, all three sessions at my therapist’s office.

And that’s where it clicked that I’ve been extremely paranoid.

Anxiety and paranoia are very similar, but they’re also very different.

My paranoia tends to be more surrounded with my sudden extreme distrust of people.

I become so incredibly defensive and irrational.

“Knowing” that no one loves me.

“Knowing” that people have hidden meanings in their words.

“Knowing” that my family will abandon me.

“Knowing” that people are talking bad about me everytime I pass by their apartment, or step outside, or say anything to them.

My paranoia tells me that the texts that I get have double and hidden meanings.

That the words sent are in such an order on purpose – to send me a message that I’m a fuck up, that I’m fucking up, and that I’m intentionally hurting people.

When that’s not my true intention.

It’s my paranoia telling me that people are out to get me.

Anxiety is more of my rational, fear based things.

“Thinking” that my apartment is going to catch on fire with Bruce inside of it, trapped.

“Thinking” I’m going to get in another car accident every time I drive.

“Thinking” that the bugs are going to come back in my apartment after we’ve gotten them under control.

They’re more rational type things, things that could actually happen.

Where my paranoia is far more irrational.

I’m not saying that people don’t have hidden meanings in their texts sometimes.

Or that people can’t stop loving you randomly.

But I can say today that they’re probably not trying to tell me two things with one sentence.

It’s most likely the straight forward thing they wrote about.

With no hidden, double meaning.

And chances are they’re not gonna leave me overnight.

I know I have had people leave me literally overnight, but at that time I had maladaptive behaviors leading up to that point that I wasn’t owning, so there probably were reasons that I’m just unable to see or remember.

And I do know when I’m not paranoid or in an episode that my family isn’t going to randomly abandon me.

And when I’m not overly paranoid, the chances are that every time I step outside, and pass by the same apartment buildings, the people who live there are not talking about me.

Even when I still hear them.

Because the volume isn’t right.

The tone isn’t right.

And they talk about me every. single. time. I walk past.

I mean every single time.

That’s irrational shit.

Those are hallucinations.

And believing that they’re real is delusional thinking and that’s my paranoia for sure.

And again, that’s how I get with my loved ones too, with my family.

I’m afraid that they’re talking bad about me and are going to stop loving me immediately.

And it sends me spiraling.

Especially when I’m already spiraling about other shit like I have been the past few weeks.

It just compounds everything.

And then my paranoia intensifies because of everything else and it just adds so much gasoline to the already raging fire.

I was a hot mess this last weekend.

I was a wreck.

Bawling, ugly crying, for hours at a time.

Just obsessing over things.

Suicidal ideations and looping, overlapping thoughts.

And I realized these key differences between my anxiety and my paranoia this week as I started to take the Haloperidol twice a day, every day.

Oh, by the way, my psych NP said I can take it twice a day every day if I need to, when I need to.

So that’s what I’m doing right now.

I figure that’s why he gives it to me, right?

For when I’m spiraling and I can’t catch myself, right?

So yeah.

It’s day four of taking it now and I’m feeling like I’m able to separate myself from my paranoia a bit better already.

So already it’s worth it.

Because it sort of clicked when I used my TouchPoints.

I thought this was all anxiety, but then they didn’t fully work.

Not like they usually do with my anxiety.

I was still worked up after the half hour of using them was up.

And I had group that day too.

Which usually helps calm me down.

But I realized, after the conversation we had in group, and after the TouchPoints didn’t fully work later that night, that I was much more paranoid than anxious.

And things started to make sense.

That’s why I’m acting this way, why I’m thinking like this.

That’s what’s happening.

That’s why my anxiety medication isn’t really working.

(even though I only took it once or twice within the last two weeks)

Because this isn’t anxiety, it’s paranoia.

Ahkay.

And once I started on the Haloperidol, within 36 hours I was feeling better.

So it was partially a psychotic episode that I was starting in on.

I figured it might be, but I do think it was more of a mix of that and a depressive episode too, really.

A horrible, wretched, terrible mix.

That was the worst I had been in quite a few months.

Since my birthday, in the beginning of March, when I had my last psychotic episode.

Ugh.

This shit is so draining.

I’m exhausted.

I’ve been so tired for the past couple of weeks, but I just haven’t been sleeping that much or that well at all in the same time frame.

Another hint that it’s possibly a psychotic episode – I never sleep well during them.

I did finally get some sleep last night though, I made myself sleep.

I took one and a half Benadryl at like 9:30 and was out by 

11pm.

Woke up around 7am but then fell back asleep around 9am on the couch until 11:30am.

So that was more sleep than I had gotten in a few weeks, so I do feel a bit better this morning.

I have my next vein ablation procedure next week, on Tuesday the 15th, so I need to be well rested for that.

I also have to be careful because the anesthesia can set off my self loathing and paranoia too.

So I need to be extra loving to myself (which is very difficult for me) this week.

And I haven’t been walking that much the past couple of days and I feel very, super, extremely guilty about it.

I keep telling myself that after Tuesday I’m going to have to walk a lot again for three to five weeks again, (even though the doctor just says two weeks) to get my other veins healthy, pumping, and able to take over the workload.

So I should not be too hard on myself for taking several days off just before my next procedure.

That it’s not that big of a deal and it’s not like I’m derailing on my food intake, or diet, or anything wild like that to sabotage my weight loss and lifestyle changes.

I’m merely taking it easy on the walking for a few days and there’s no harm in resting.

Especially after a mental illness episode, because I am fucking drained.

But it’s still difficult.

I feel like I need to be doing everything all the time.

But I don’t, I really don’t.

– Keren