I woke up in incredible amounts of pain on Wednesday this week.

Incredible.

I could barely fucking move.

When I finally did, I had to move very, very slowly.

Even on my morning walk with Bruce that day, I had one speed, and that was slow.

I can’t help but think I had a hardcore therapy session the day before, and we were working through some more childhood traumas and issues.

We talked about some really heavy stuff, as we do most therapy sessions.

But this time we were really starting to dive into it for our next EMDR sessions.

We were planning our next few sessions out.

But I woke up Wednesday, and I really, really fucking hurt.

The outsides of both of my knees hurt, along the outer thigh areas, above and below the knees, in the knees, and into my upper calves.

Both knees themselves felt utterly raw all over, and it felt as if there were loose, sharp gravel pieces under my knee caps.

Both of my legs just felt so stiff that I could barely walk properly for the first couple of hours.

My right elbow was killing me too.

I was having a hard time bending, and straightening it out.

I could just hold it in a stiffened, “L” shape, and not even that was comfortable.

It felt like that time I had tennis elbow, but it was traveling into my hand and into my shoulder too.

And I had one of those headaches that’s just behind my eyes.

It was kinda making me dizzy, and at the same time, it was sorta making me nauseous.

I was sweating a lot that morning too.

More so than I normally do.

I mean, I have hyperhidrosis, so sweating is not abnormal for me, but that was ridiculous.

I was having a hard time with my balance that morning too.

I felt like I could be knocked down with a feather in a light breeze.

There’s just no other word for my pain levels other than incredible.

They slowly faded as the hours passed, but it took over half the day.

I know it’s from therapy.

I know it’s from diving into these traumatic times of my past.

Talking about things from my childhood is very difficult for me.

And that’s all we’ve been doing in therapy the last month or so.

And this week was no different.

The main problem I’m running into is that I simply just don’t remember.

I don’t remember the bulk of it – probably around 80% of it, if not more.

Especially before the 5th grade – before we left the church.

There are huge gaps in my memory where I obviously just dissociated through it at the time.

It was too difficult for me to be in a conscious state, so I turned into myself.

And through that process, I never truly got to know who I really am.

I bounced myself off of others.

I always just mirrored and mimicked the people around me.

I didn’t know how to be myself.

But that was who I was, bits and pieces of the people around me.

My personality was never fully me, but more of a combination of everyone I’ve ever met, just sorta, mushed together in a way that seemed new.

I never really knew myself.

And I’m still getting to know myself now.

So, now that I’m deliberately, purposefully alone, I can try to figure out who I am, right?

That’s the hope at least.

And I think I’m getting there.

It’s curious because everytime I try to put myself out there and date or something, I always get reminded that I’m not ready yet – by me or by them.

I get triggered by something, and it reminds me that I still have so much more work to do on myself before I open up that door to other people.

Especially with dating.

It’s really that I still don’t trust people.

I don’t trust people to truly be themselves.

I really think they’re just pretending to be a version of themselves I’ll like, so that they can trap me.

I feel like my ex husband was pretending to be someone else, before we got married.

And then when we signed the marriage certificate, he flipped a fucking switch and knowingly become this way worse version of himself.

He got super comfortable, super quick.

Within months.

I don’t think I’ll ever trust anyone enough to get married again.

But that’s my shit.

We’ll see.

But I did have intense pain levels all throughout the time I was married.

I remember being on pain pills again within that time frame.

I remember my doctor telling me that they’re not a long term solution so I turned back to weed at the time.

I was looking for relief from the pain.

And probably an escape from the emotional mess I had gotten myself into.

I remember my inattentive ADHD being a huge problem at that time too.

I couldn’t focus for shit.

I was forgetting everything, “daydreaming” all the time.

(which I found out later that I was constantly dissociating again)

I was having trouble following directions, listening and socializing with my coworkers properly.

And I realized this last week, that that’s all part of the C•PTSD that I deal with.

It mimics other disorders and other diagnoses, like ADHD.

If you look at the symptoms, they’re practically an identical mixture between the cognitive schizoaffective disorder symptoms and the cognitive C•PTSD symptoms.

It never was ADHD.

It was my trauma and schizoaffective disorder combined into a tragic nightmare that entire time.

No wonder why the medication made me spend ridiculous amounts of money, and hide myself more than I already was at that time.

The ADHD medication was making me psychotic, and manic.

I wasn’t ADHD at all, and the meds were making me worse.

That was tough to realize then, and tough to realize this week again – tough to put together.

I mean, it makes total sense though.

A lot of things from my past are starting to make total sense now.

I really wish I wouldn’t have been dealing with so much anosognosia throughout my life.

Things would’ve been so much different if I just could’ve seen what I was up against.

It makes me mad at myself if I think about it too hard.

I used to think I was so self aware.

But as the internet and smart phone surfaced, never once did I google bipolar symptoms.

Never once did I google what I was dealing with.

It’s like I was more comfortable thinking that I knew what was happening, when I didn’t have a fucking clue.

It’s mind numbing if I reflect on it too much.

It also makes me angry that my doctors didn’t know something was off.

I mean, they did, in a way.

My primary diagnosis kept getting more severe over the years.

From major depressive disorder to bipolar to bipolar with borderline personality disorder to bipolar with psychotic features to finally, I feel, the correct, schizoaffective disorder.

They knew something was up, they just couldn’t put their finger on it.

Mind you, hallucinations and delusions can happen with any and all of these diagnoses.

I was just so blind to it all.

I never took the time to look them up and do any research on them.

Denial is an ugly beast.

And now it’s time for me to no longer be in denial about my C•PTSD.

The symptoms it carries, for me, explains the gaps that schizoaffective leaves. 

It makes things make sense.

– Keren