I had this whole different entry written up.

It was about sh.

I can’t even spell it out because I remembered at the end, this morning, that fb and bluesky will block me if I fucking do.

But I had so much information in it.

I had so many articles and had found a study that was really good about it too.

It talked about how sh actually opens up and releases opiate receptors when it’s gone through with – which I had no idea that that even happened.

That’s why people who do sh’ing behaviors, tend to keep doing them.

Because they’re literally addictive.

But I had all of my sh’ing behaviors in there too.

All of my dirty little secrets.

Not only would I probably have gotten my profile banned from my two of my favorite apps, but I realized that I’m not okay with everyone knowing about my terrible coping mechanisms.

I decided last minute that I’m not ready to “out” myself like that too.

Not yet at least.

And I had written sh all the way out and used the acronym that is used now for it about a hundred times throughout the entry, so fb and bluesky would’ve blocked me, and flagged me for sure, for sure.

So I wouldn’t have even been able to post it on either platform anyway to be able to have anyone read it in the first place.

So I’m writing this one instead.

I do talk a bit about it in here.

I snuck it in.

But I had started writing this entry here last week anyway.

Well, bits and pieces of it.

I pasted parts together, and added the bulk of it today, Saturday.

I’m actually relieved.

I was super anxious about posting the sh’ing one.

I didn’t want everyone knowing what all I do.

I mean, I want to help other people.

And I really wanted to educate people on it too.

And help people who have loved ones that do it.

I mean, my main goal of this blog is to un-stigmatize mental illness.

And that was a great entry to do that with.

But I was scared, because my family and friends read these entries, and I didn’t really want them reading about my sh’ing behaviors and getting worried about me, and really I don’t want them knowing about the details of it all.

Not right yet at least.

Not the specifics, like I had written about.

So, it’s better to just not.

So, here we are.

I was engulfed in that other entry.

But I do have some good news this week, fucking finally.

I signed a lease, here, at my apartment complex, for my apartment, for next year!

It’s up December of 2027.

It felt like a 500lb weight came off my chest when I got into my car, after coming out of the leasing office yesterday.

And I’m literally paying $3 more.

Ha!

That’s it!

So, it’s really the same price, and I don’t have to move, and I’m so stoked that I don’t have to.

I was super worried and stressed that they were going to make me move, best case scenario, within the complex, but to a more expensive apartment.

And I was terrified that I was going to have stairs.

That was one of my really big concerns.

Not only for me and my knees that need replacements, but for Brucie too.

He’s 12 now, ya know.

And he hasn’t fallen while walking in about a month and a half, but he fell three times on Friday.

Once in the morning, and twice while walking in the evening.

I cut the evening walk short because of it.

Fuckin poor little guy.

It breaks my fucking heart.

I was hoping, because he hadn’t fallen in so long, and he has been “catching” himself all the times when he could’ve fallen lately, that his falling spells were done.

Not so much.

Fuck.

It just scares me.

I don’t know what I’m going to do without him.

I don’t know if I’ll get another dog right away…

I doubt it.

I think I’ll need time.

No other dog is going to be like Bruce.

He’s seriously the best boy.

I can take him anywhere and he just minds his manners, and minds his own business.

And he was never trained for any of that – that’s just his awesome fucking personality.

He’s my ESA and he again, had no training, and does an awesome job on picking up on my moods at home.

I just don’t want him to go.

I don’t know what I’d live for if he’s gone.

I just don’t know what I’d do.

I don’t want to think about this anymore.

I’ve been feeling stifled since my big psychotic break.

Like my personality is gone.

I have no idea who I am anymore.

Don’t get me wrong – I know my values, and the few morals that I carry.

But my personality is flatter.

I’m not as loud as I used to be, and that’s on purpose.

I don’t crack as many jokes.

I don’t tell as many stories.

I don’t listen to as much music.

I don’t really have any hobbies.

Even when I do talk to people, I just lose my train of thought because I’m trying to focus so hard.

I feel like the thought process I was in, is just plucked out of my brain.

Like all of a sudden, whatever I was talking about, is gone.

Completely gone.

And it doesn’t come back, usually, even with prompts from someone.

Especially when I’m really trying to focus.

I know this happens to everyone from time to time.

But for me, when it’s bad, it’ll happen several times per therapy session.

It’ll happen several times per conversation.

When it gets bad, it’s much more often than a typical occurrence.

Which makes it an issue.

It’s frustrating as fuck.

It’s wild because Hannah knows that I do this, so she’ll calmly prompt me with what we were just talking about, and what I was just saying.

Every once in a while, it’ll come back to me.

But usually, it’s gone forever.

She’s so nice about it, but it happens a lot in sessions.

I think because I’m dealing with trauma there and start to dissociate.

And the “thought loss” just gets triggered a lot more there, so it happens much more often in sessions.

I hate that new part of me though.

It’s annoying. 

I never used to be like that.

But I’m trying to reshape myself now.

Trying to figure out who I am post psychotic break.

And it’s kinda weird to be able to do that at the age of 43.

It’s kinda nice, kinda daunting, kinda exhausting, very strange.

I mean, granted, I have my ingrained behaviors and mannerisms.

But I feel like I have some input on what the puzzle pieces of my personality look like now.

And I never have felt like I’ve had that before.

I especially feel that way being in therapy now, and working on myself.

I talk about this in therapy all the time – how my goal is to do the opposite of what I used to do.

I feel like that’s the right thing to do.

I feel like that’s what my personality should look like now.

The opposite of who I used to be.

I do treat people a lot kinder than I used to.

And I do that by not talking as much.

I just don’t say what I used to.

I don’t really say anything anymore, unless it’s really pertinent to the conversation.

I just don’t chime in.

I’m not nearly as social.

I don’t really have many friends – the friends I do have are online, or neighbors.

And my neighbors could move away at any time.

But, I don’t like, hang out with anyone.

I don’t go out either.

I do curbside groceries.

I buy every household thing, and most other things, online.

I get my prescriptions in the drive thru at the pharmacy.

When I get coffee, I go to the drive thru coffee stand.

I rarely go into a store.

The only time I do go into a public place, is to buy Brucie’s chicken treats, to get a snack or red bulls from the 7/11 next door, to go to doctors appointments, to get a haircut, or if I absolutely have to go inside somewhere.

I avoid public interactions at all costs.

Opposite.

I don’t chat with random folks anymore.

Opposite.

I used to trauma dump on strangers all the fucking time.

I would talk to anyone about anything all the fucking time.

I would literally talk to a random person about my extremely personal issues of the day, every time I went somewhere.

I would tell strangers that I was bipolar, and having severe symptoms that day/week/month.

I would talk about relationship problems with random strangers.

I would talk about being stabbed with random strangers.

I would talk about my car accidents with random strangers.

I would talk about how I dissociate with random strangers.

I would talk about details of my therapy sessions with random strangers.
I would talk about my doctors appointments with random strangers.

I mean, anything and everything was up for grabs.

There was legit nothing that was untouchable when it came to talking to sporadic people.

And then there were my friends.

Talk about fucking trauma dumping.

Damn dude.

I would un-fucking-load.

And the thing is, thinking about it right now, I would see people’s eyes getting bigger.

Their body language would scream “weird” to me, but I’d continue, oblivious that it was actually them literally, physically, recoiling from my words.

I honestly, in the moment, had no idea that I was trauma dumping.

I thought I was being “deep” and “emotionally intelligent”.

I really honestly did.

And I wondered why my “best friend” randomly texted me one day to “bow out” of the friendship.

I would call her when I was suicidal, practically every fucking time.

Hysterically crying.

I didn’t know what else to do.

I just wanted someone to talk to.

I just needed someone to hear me.

Someone to listen.

But I know that’s what did it.

I was too much, too many times.

The text just seemed random, because I was in psychosis.

But I bet it wasn’t.

I was just a terrible fucking person, honestly.

Terrible to my friends, and terrible to other people.

I would just off-load my personal history on people too.. 

I suppose that’s trauma dumping too.. Ha!

It just feels different because it was like my whole life, not just my recent week.

But I would make a “friend”, even, like, someone I met at a bar or something, and an hour into meeting that person, they’d know over half my life.

They’d know all my current dramas and traumas, my childhood traumas, the fact that I’m an addict, bipolar, have arthritis, half legally blind, etc..

I used to think that was being friendly – I honestly did.

I thought I was being emotionally empathetic. 

Because I wanted to know all of that about them too!

I wanted to know everything about everyone.

So I expected to hear everything about them too.

I think people are interesting, and I do honestly care about people too.

But they’d tell me something, and they wouldn’t go as deep as I did, and I wouldn’t notice.

And then, I’d forget everything people tell me about themselves five minutes after they say it anyway.

And then, I would meet people’s stories with reflective stories from my life that are similar but different, and I never knew that people hate that. 

I always thought “they’ll like this, I’m relating to them, I’m being a nice person – I’ll show them that I understand what they’re saying and can sympathize with them” instead it looks like I’ve just brought the conversation back to my-fucking-self. 

When I’ve never meant to do that, ever.

I always thought I was just connecting to and bonding with the other person.

I seriously and honestly thought I was doing a great job at being a nice person, and was super skilled in understanding my emotions, and other people’s emotions, and everything.

It never occurred to me that that was being selfish and self centered until like literally two years ago.

I had no idea.

It was literally crushing when I found out.

Because that’s what I’ve always done to relate to people, and to find out, that’s not how you relate to people, is super fucking bizarre and flipped my brain upside down.

Then how do I tell you and show you I understand you?

It’s still confusing to me.

I don’t really get it honestly. 

But I know I don’t do that shit anymore.

Opposite.

All of these reasons and thousands more are why I’m acting opposite of how I used to.

I used to be a fucking asshole.

I swear, I tell people now, if you’d have known me 15 years ago, you would’ve hated me.

And folks don’t believe me.

But they should.

My temper was fucking terrible.

And I know I was just psychotic, like, literally, psychotic.

But my moods were all over the fucking board. 

Oh man, when I would get upset and mad, I would just start cussing the person out. 

Up one side, down the other.

Didn’t care who they were.

And then I would just leave the situation – I’d storm out of wherever it was that I was at.

Throwing a fucking fit.

Storm out of the doctor’s office.

Storm out of work.

Storm out of the store.

Storm out of the room.

Storm out of the house.

I would just storm out while shutting the fuck down.

And it’s not like I’d go home and deal with it, ever.

It’s not like I’d get in the car and drive safely home.

Nope.

I’d speed like a bat outta hell, road rage central, passing my rage onto everyone around me.

And it’s not like I’d go home and let my feelings wash over me, and sit in them and deal with my emotions, healthily cry, talk with one trusted person calmly, write about it, and process through whatever it was that was making me so angry.

Absolutely not.

No, nope.

I would just sh the fucking shit outta myself – clobber the fuck out of my noodle, scream at the top of my lungs, enough to scratch my throat, and shut the fuck down.

Then I’d sit down, and dissociate.

Literally, just nothing.

No crying, no talking, no writing, no nothing.

Just sitting and staring off into space, after sh’ing, stare at the wall for who knows how long.

Long enough to get my trauma dumping story together, and get the emotion out of it.

My feelings would get shoved down and over, and never be dealt with.

But the story would carry on.

A bad experience would ruin my week 15 years ago.

I’d talk about something “bad” that happened to me for days, to anyone who’d listen.

Not like now, where I ask someone if they have the time and space for a heavy conversation, and then talk about something that’s bothering me, or a shitty thing that happened to me.

But I don’t dwell on it for days anymore, it’s more like an hour or two, and I’ll normally write about it first, get it out of my head, and usually be able to move on.

If it is longer than a few hours, I’ll find someone to talk to about it next, after writing about it, but like I said, ask them if they have the space for it, and usually after the talk, I’ll be good.

If I’m not, I’ll write about it until my fingers bleed.

Opposite.

And mind you, all that time, 15 years ago, when I was so toxic, i was in therapy.

But I kept it so fucking superficial.

How was your day type shit.

How other people were fucking with my day type shit.

How outside things were the problem type shit.

I really used to focus on other people a lot in sessions.

The situations that I got into with people, and how they were fucking up.

How they were affecting me.

How they were the core of all of my problems.

I kept it to day-to-day things.

I talked about work a lot.

How work was affecting me, and how my coworkers were fucking my life up.

How the customers, and my boss were messing with my head.

I would talk about anything but myself.

Everything but my feelings.

And I thought I was so emotionally deep at the time too.

It wasn’t anything like the relationship I have with Hannah now.

Opposite.

Again, the opposite of what I used to do.

See, I hit rock bottom for like the fifth time in my life during psychosis.

And when I finally snapped out of it, I realized that something needed to change.

And the only thing that I could change at the time (and I realized, ever) is myself.

And then I realized that I don’t even know what “myself” consists of.

I know Hannah talks a lot about IFS therapy.

It took me a long time to come around to IFS.

I’m talking years.

But it’s slowly growing on me, I’m slowly getting it.

It’s all about “parts” of ourselves.

And how these parts are injured and are really just trying to protect us, even if they’re painful.

It makes me think about every aspect of my life, and how maybe they all really do combine to make a personality.

And how maybe I do have a personality that I’m just not seeing yet.

And I sorta realized that I do have a personality while writing this entry.

So, you’re watching my brain work to unfold myself in real time (well, almost real time, I wrote this entry in a day and a half).

And before you read this list, don’t take everything as a negative, because I don’t.

For example, being paranoid is a negative, and does have a negative affect on me 60% of the time, but it’s also positive in the way that I can focus on problem-solving, and can quickly identify issues/problems.

What I’m saying is; you may see a list of negative attributes, and may feel bad for me.

I don’t want your pity because;

I see a list of someone who’s been through some major trauma.

I see a list of someone who’s still fighting, regardless of that trauma.

I see a list of someone who’s fighting to try and be neutral and eventually like themselves, in a society that stigmatizes them.

This is the list of parts of myself that I see:

The voices – makes me hypervigilant (and paranoid).

The hypothyroidism – makes me fatigued and oversleep, and a coffee and red bull connoisseur.

The depression – makes me a realist, and determined.

The arthritis – makes me cry easier than most, more emotionally aware, and slow down.

The anxiety – makes me see every possible aspect and outcome of every situation.

And there are many other parts of me – but those are some of the big ones.

But, I’ve been thinking about my pain levels too.

They’re absolutely a big part of me too.

And my pain levels are affecting my personality as they have gotten worse over the years.

Because my pain levels have gotten atrocious.

And I got curious, googled, and found a few things that I had no idea existed.

It’s wild to write these entries and do research and find such amazing validation like this.

I hope you find the next few sites quotes as interesting and as validating as I did.

This site talks about how; “Chronic pain has a notable and drastic effect on the personality of those who suffer from it. One of the most overt of these changes is in terms of motivation. Those with a chronic condition still have the desire to get things done, but quickly lose their will when faced with a challenging or unexpected situation. Also notable is that chronic pain creates a kind of passiveness in overall behavior. The ability and desire to take risks or move outside one’s comfort zone becomes greatly reduced. Aside from this numbing of ambition and adventurousness, sufferers also become more anxious – worrying more and regularly second-guessing themselves. Patients with a long-term pain condition become more easily frustrated, in general, which can lead to a more “on-edge” or angry personality.” 

I literally just wrote about half of these aspects in that anhedonia post an entry or two back.

It’s like, I knew that my pain levels affected me, but I didn’t know that they affected me like this, if that makes sense.

I didn’t realize that they were that impactful.

Once I see it in writing, it clicks.

Things start coming together.

It makes sense.

It’s so curious.

The “quickly lose their will”, I have been super hard on myself about that lately.

I’ll get random motivation, especially to clean the apartment, and start, and I’ll instantly get all of the motivation sucked out of me.

And then the “numbing of ambition”, goes right along with that too.

I’ve been having issues with energy and getting started with tasks in the first place even.

The motivation I just spoke of is few and far between.

I thought that was part of my schizoaffective.

And I think it is too.
I think I’m getting hit from a couple of angles.

And the increased anxiety is definitely something I’ve been dealing with.

I know that’s from stressors in my life right now too.

But I know pain levels have a huge role in that.

And then I found two other sites that I’m going to talk about too.

This site was good, and it talks about how; “When your body is in pain, your brain signals a stress response, releasing hormones like cortisol and adrenaline. In acute pain, this is protective. But in chronic pain, the stress response remains activated far longer than it should, physically altering the brain’s chemistry and function…Neurologically, emotional pain and physical pain share similar brain pathways. When your body hurts, your mind often follows. Patients with chronic pain are three times more likely to experience mental health conditions like depression and anxiety…Chronic pain also affects cognition, including memory, focus, and decision-making. This is due to the neurological overlap between pain-processing areas and cognitive control centers in the brain.”

I’ve talked before about the relation between psychosis and adrenaline for me.

And how adrenaline is one of the neurotransmitters/hormones that induces my psychosis episodes.

It would not surprise me, if someone out there did a study on how chronic pain flares induce psychotic episodes.

Because I know mine do.

Maybe it’s different with my RA.

But when my pain flares, my psychosis symptoms will too.

And fucking vice versa.

They go hand in hand, for sure.

And I talked about that a lot in the sh’ing entry I was going to post – about how emotional and physical pain share the same neurological pathways – which I find fascinating.

I KNEW I WASN’T OFF MY ROCKER.

And some folks experience emotional pain more as physical pain than others.

And that goes the other way too.

That’s why some people sh.

The emotional pain is too intense and they physically feel it – I know that happens to me.

I’ll get sad, and my bones will ache.

I’ll get anxious, and my muscles will twitch and spasm.

I’ll get mad, and my body will tense up and I will clench my teeth so hard I’ll hear “snaps” in my ears from my jaw.

I’ll worry, and my nerves will turn to fire.

That’s because they’re on the same fucking pathways.

I KNEW I WASN’T OFF MY ROCKER.

And then, reading this last site I have for y’all, let’s me know I’m not losing my mind too.

When my pain levels get high, my emotions ramp up 100%.

I cry so much easier (I’ve really noticed this one lately).

I get angry so much easier.

I get anxious so much easier.

I get paranoid so much easier.

I hear so many more hallucinations.

I get so much more depressed.

And then lastly, this site goes into more scientific detail of how pain and emotions are connected; “The brainstem, located at the junction of the brain and spinal cord, plays a crucial role in both pain processing and emotional regulation. This area contains important structures such as the periaqueductal gray, which modulates pain perception, and the locus coeruleus, which influences mood and anxiety…The neurochemical changes associated with chronic pain also contribute to depression. Research in Neuroscience & Biobehavioral Reviews demonstrates that chronic pain can alter brain structure and function, particularly in areas associated with mood regulation, such as the prefrontal cortex and limbic system…The relationship between chronic pain and emotional distress is bidirectional, meaning that pain can lead to emotional problems, and emotional distress can intensify pain perception.”

So interesting that it’s scientifically proven that pain leads to anxiety, depression,and in my case psychosis.

And then the emotional pain leads to increased physical pain too.

It’s all connected and intertwined.

They’re directly correlated.

I KNEW I WASN’T OFF MY ROCKER.

My pain hurts me physically and mentally.

My heavy emotions cause me physical pain.

My physical pain causes me emotional pain.

I found all of these sites as I was writing the last bit, and really, mainly, after I had written the bulk of this entry.

I figured, why not, let me try to google and find some science to back up my experiences with pain at least.

And I’ll be damned.

I found it!

I knew it.

I knew pain and emotions were interconnected.

That’s so fucking wild.

That last article says the very base of the skull is the culprit – the C1-C2 area of the neck.

I had to look that one up too.

But it’s at the very top of your neck, just below your head.

It’s amazing that pain can alter your fucking brain structure too.

That’s fucking mind-blowing.

No wonder why I feel like my personality has changed from my pain levels – it has.

It absolutely has.

Damn.

All of these puzzle pieces that I talked about earlier, are finding their little homes.

They may not be the happiest of homes, but they’re my homes.

I thought I didn’t really have a personality anymore…

I found out, while writing this entry, that I do have a personality.

It’s just a bit more subtle than it used to be.

And I do mask a lot more than I used to, so I need to work on that still, for sure.

But all the parts of myself add up to someone who’s been through some shit, including a psychotic break, ongoing psychosis and other mental illness, and even painful physical symptoms.

I can’t bring myself to say anything really nice about myself yet, I’m not there yet.

I’m getting close.

I’m still in my neutral era – maybe I’ll write about that next, eh?

And I’ll stay in therapy, that’s critical.

It’s funny though, I’m used to being miserable.

And you’d never know it by how I act now.

But how I used to act?

Yes, I was putting, projecting, and trauma dumping my fucking misery onto everyone and everything all the time.

But not now.

Opposite.

-Keren