I’ve had two different entries for this week and last week and I’ve scrapped both when I was basically finished with them.

I didn’t like them at all.

So, this one better be good, eh?

I’ve been anxious lately.

And I’m not anxious about things happening to me.

I’m not anxious about anything outwardly happening.

I’m not really having racing thoughts – quite the opposite actually.

I’ve really been anxious about how I can’t think properly anymore.

I’ve been feeling fairly blank minded.

And this isn’t a new thing.

I’ve been like this for quite a while.

Years even.

And the last entry I had written up, I was complaining about my antipsychotic, Paliperidone. 

How the pros absolutely, and always will, outweigh the cons, but it’s still causing brain fog, some cognitive impairment, mental fogginess and some cognitive slowness, nonetheless.

Well, I realized that my entry didn’t really make sense the more that I wrote because I had this epiphany towards the end, and was trying to plug that into the middle of it.

Let me back up a bit.

I’ve been feeling as though I can’t fucking think lately.

And that’s really what’s been giving me a lot of the anxiety.

It feels as if all of the thoughts have been just sucked out of my fucking head with a vacuum, and a powerful shop vac at that.

It’s taken everything, wet, dry, all at once.

I’m not having many racing thoughts, like I said – which is amazing (unless I’m in a panic attack).

But I feel like I’m also not able to have regular thoughts – which is super fucking frustrating.

But that’s an antipsychotic’s job, right?

All thoughts are up for it to subdue.

Because the antipsychotic doesn’t know which ones are dangerous, and which ones aren’t.

And it’s job is to just mow down all thoughts into a neat and tidy, one quarter inch thought lawn, so that the thoughts can get mowed down again anytime they get out of control.

So, I’ve had to come up with a different way of thinking.

Because I can no longer think in my head.

And really, the only way that I have to think nowadays, is by writing.

I feel like I’m no longer “allowed” to think in my head.

That’s off limits to me – or rather really, it’s saved for special occasions, like conversations and other social situations, where I have to think quickly.

And even then it’s quite difficult to do for me.

It’s not nearly as easy as it used to be.

I don’t have thoughts constantly flowing though my head like I used to, to make conversations easy.

Now I feel more disconnected and I have to search for what I’m going to say a lot more often than not.

I feel like I stumble over my words and repeat myself a lot more than I used to.

A lot of the time, I can’t find the right words that I wanted to say at all, and end up settling for saying something that I pulled out of nowhere and that I wasn’t planning on saying because I diverted from my original story due to the fact that I couldn’t find the right words halfway through.

But. anyway, for me to really process things now, to really get down and dirty, I must write things out.

It helps me to pull the things I am able to think out of my head to work through it all.

It lets me see the bigger picture.

Helps me zoom out.

And my thinking is way, I mean completely different than what it used to be before antipsychotics and I sorta, honestly, just realized this…

And I’ll explain what I mean by that…

I mean, I knew that my thinking was different post antipsychotics.

But it just sorta registered that my brain feels super empty because my thinking process has changed, and really, because my internal auditory hallucinations are gone.

And I didn’t realize my old thoughts were all internal auditory hallucinations until Tuesday last week.

And that’s why my mind has been feeling so blank the past few years.

The chaos is gone.

But the thing is, they weren’t always chaotic seeming.

I didn’t know any different.

And they were helpful a lot of the time.

At least, they felt like it.

I mean, looking back, they were completely irrational and irresponsible at times too.

A lot of the time.

And a lot of the time they’d make me not only leap to non-existent conclusions, but they’d also contort situations I’d be in and words that were spoken to me, so badly, that I wasn’t ever really responding to things correctly.

They just tainted my vision, viewpoint, perspective, outlook, angle, filter, whatever you wanna call it – they put a film over it and skewed it, horribly.

And at the time, for decades, and even as a kid I remember, I would have layers and layers of conversations going on in my head all the time.

And I mean layers.

Dozens at a time.

There would be a main one that’s the loudest, with the voice of my “core” self.

But simultaneously, there’d be at least 10-12 other conversations going on with other voices and they’d chime in with the “core” voice – me, at different times of the conversation, or they’d have something to say about what I was doing, or it could even be completely random.

But there were constant and elaborate conversations overlapping over themselves in my head for…ever since I can remember. 

There wasn’t any one specific entity besides my “core” self, and my “core” self was always there.

Everyone else was totally random.

I can’t remember if there were any specific repeat voices that I heard, but I do not recall there being anything like that – I never named anyone, and I never paid attention to that type of thing honestly.

It wasn’t like DID, with alters that are separate entities that have separate names and personalities and whatnot. 

These – because I was in denial about psychosis, and didn’t even know or understand what psychosis was for the bulk of my life, and didn’t really understand what schizophrenia, or schizoaffective disorder consisted of, seemed completely random to me.

But I would create these elaborate scenarios in my head with the voices.

And I would converse with them constantly, in my head.

I was constantly talking to them.

The internal ones were way nicer, and way more constructive than the external ones ever were or have been, they weren’t mean really at all.

They were actually very neutral, really.

They didn’t really lean one way or the other.

Well, that’s not entirely true.

They would also encourage my sh’ing behaviors too, when I was upset.

Screaming it in the background to just go ahead and hit.

That nothing mattered anyway.

That that’s the only way to release the pain.

They would provoke my automatic negative thoughts too, for sure.

They could be extremely evil.

So that “the voices being very neutral” statement isn’t true at all.

But they were neutral, I’d say, 70% of the time.

Especially considering how much I’d sit there and get lost in my “thoughts” and different scenarios I’d make up in my head.

But, really, when I think about it, they sabotaged more than they helped.

Even when I think about them being neutral, I really think back and think, well… they really fucked a lot of shit up, honestly.

Yeah, they kept me company.

Yeah, they made me funny because they were so random.

But damn were they destructive.

Damn were they noxious.

But the fucked up thing is, I miss them.

A lot.

My brain feels empty without them.

I feel empty without them.

I don’t feel as witty, chatty or good at conversation without them.

I don’t feel like myself without them.

And that’s what’s been missing the last few years.

I’ve finally pinpointed it.

It’s not that the Paliperidone took my thoughts away.

It’s that it took the internal auditory hallucinations away – the things that I thought were my thoughts.

And that’s why I feel so alone nowadays.

That’s what I’m missing.

It’s almost relieving to figure that out.

To realize this.

To remember this really.

Because I knew something big was different.

I knew it.

And it’s been literally years since I’ve been on the Paliperidone, and I’m just now figuring this shit out…

I mean, like I said, I knew this already.

I did.

In the back of my head, I knew this.

It just didn’t ever click that that’s what was happening.

That that’s what’s gone.

I feel like my brain was protecting me, until I was ready to handle it.

It was bad enough they had disappeared on me so quickly, but I don’t think I could’ve handled this realization before now.

My fucking thoughts were hallucinations pre-antipsychotics.

That’s so fucked up when I think about it. 

Things that I thought were thoughts, being hallucinations.

And that’s why I feel so fucking blank nowadays, and have for the past few years.

I remember posting an entry about it at the time, when they cleared up a while back, and talking about how I could focus on the birds for the first time in my life, really.

Like how I could really hear them for the first time.

But I didn’t really know why I could hear them better.

I knew the crowd noise was gone.

But I thought it was external.

But that was why.

The internal hallucinations were gone.

The things that I always thought were thoughts were gone.

This is why people don’t like antipsychotics.

They’re scared of being by themselves.

They’ve been with their voices for so long that it is scary to be by yourself.

It’s scary because you get so used to the chaos.

So used to not being by yourself, ever, even if they’re persecuting you.

It becomes frightening to think about all of that going away on you.

Because then you’re just left with yourself.

And I’ve been thinking that I haven’t been able to think for about two years now.

That I’ve lost my ability to process through things and work through scenarios in my head.

When in reality, I just haven’t had the internal voices to bounce things off of in my head anymore.

But really, the voices weren’t that rational when I think back.

Sometimes they were.

It was a 50/50 shot, really.

They made me jump to conclusions a lot, like I said earlier.

I could never take the whole conversation into consideration, they wouldn’t let me.

I lived in the moment a lot.

Second to second.

When talking with someone, the voices would prompt me on what to say next, right?

Like a thought would.

I’d just have to pick who’d I was listening to at the moment.

But the thing is that I would forget what was said seconds before – it’d be in one ear and out the other so quickly, like it still is.

So the context of the conversation would really be gone from one moment to the next.

I think the best example of this was texting conversations.

I’d be texting about something with a friend, and they’d tie something into a thing we were just talking about, but to me, it’s a brand new text, brand new conversation, and it’d sound like it came out of left field, and I’d respond like it came out of nowhere because I couldn’t remember what we had been talking about 5 minutes ago, and they tried to make a joke, but it sounded like they were just making fun of me.

So, I’d either get upset, or get defensive, because I didn’t understand, and I wouldn’t compute to tie it into what we were just discussing.

(those were my two go-to’s)

And then they’d get confused because they were just continuing the conversation and trying to be funny like a normal fucking person, and I couldn’t understand, and then they’d get upset with me getting upset with them.

And because the internal hallucinations clouded my view so much that I couldn’t see up from down, I would just become so irate when confused or thrown off with the whole fucking situation.

And when the voices would chime in with something filled with anger in my head, I would then respond that way too, and just sound like a person who’s off their rocker and who’s lost their cool, all the time.

And I’d respond like that, all the time to everyone – friends, family, strangers, everyone.

Then the whole situation would just blow the fuck up because I couldn’t remember or look at the context of the entire conversation.

It was a constant shit show.

And a lot of times, I’d twist people’s words so fucking bad – that was a huge issue I had too.

I still deal with this too.

I have to read and re-read texts like, 10 times before responding nowadays, and I’ll still read them wrong.

My delusional, hallucinated thinking will still play tricks on me and distort words on me and I’ll still read words wrong, or completely read words that aren’t really there at all, or even entire sentences that aren’t there at all.

This happens mainly with texting and emailing, but it’ll happen while conversing face to face too, it didn’t matter.

My delusional mind (and I’m sure I’d hallucinate too) would turn people’s conversations into these attacks on me.

I’ll mishear words while talking to people face to face.

My mind will plug in words, or misquote people, and I’ll have to repeat back to them, did you just say ______ to me? to make sure that they did not in fact, just call me whatever it was that I just heard.

I try to keep it under control.

I try to re-read texts before responding, especially now.

I never used to though.

Pre-antipsychotics, I would rarely re-read text messages or emails before responding. 

I would usually just respond with my irate message.

And then I would go back and re-read the message, and realize I had read it completely wrong.

That my mind had plugged in words.

Or completely made up words in place of the words that were actually there.

And by then, it was usually too late.

Especially if I had been hallucinating words or paragraphs in a twisted way and had already responded.

Because everything set the voices off, and in turn, set me off.

And my temper over the years makes so much sense now, in retrospect.

I do have a temper.

But the voices were not helping.

They absolutely were setting me off.

Things were just so confusing.

And confusion leads to rage.

Especially now realizing that I thought these voices were thoughts, I understand why I was so fucking angry.

Because they sounded like thoughts.

Well, the way everyone “hears” thoughts is super subjective.

And no one ever told me otherwise – how you’re supposed to “hear” thoughts.

And I never talked about it.

This is what I talk about when I say it felt like I was always in a crowd.

This is what I mean.

It was my fucking thoughts – these internal hallucinations.

They were in my head.

I was in a crowd all the time.

That’s the best way to describe it.

Imagine you’re around about… I dunno, 20-25 people.

All the time.

They’re all in a confined room, like a bedroom or a spare room, some smallish space that has four walls, no windows though, and a lower ceiling.

And most all of them are talking over one another.

Some are talking louder than others, some are mumbling, and some are talking really loudly.

There are one or two talking to you – you’re the “core” voice, fairly loudly, over the others, the others are talking amongst themselves, some quiet, some loudish, some medium, some are just mumbling or whispering.

And you’ve got a bullhorn.

When you’re talking, you talk into the bullhorn.

The people who are talking with you will talk into the bullhorn along side you while you’re having a conversation back and forth.

The rest of the people, like I said, are all talking about different things and at different volumes.

And there’s constant conversation.

They’re constantly chiming in on life – that’s the topic(s).

What they think of situations you’re in.

Conversations you’re in.

What you ate today.

What the dog is doing.

What your fears are.

What your obsessions are.

What makes you anxious.

What you’re wearing.

Your weight.

Upcoming appointments.

What you have to do today.

What you have to do tomorrow.

That mistake you made in 6th grade.

That paper you wrote in that class you hated in college.

The email you need to write.

The text you just got.

How much water you drank today.

How you’re failing at life.

Every single mistake you’ve ever made.

You need to get more sleep tonight.

Other people in the vicinity you’re in.

Literally anything you could think of to comment on about life, what’s going on, what’s happening, they comment on and then some.

The list could be never ending.

Even on other people’s thoughts, and what other people are doing, thinking, feeling, hearing, seeing, and touching and everything else.

Which, I thought I could hear other people’s thoughts and inner most feelings because of the external hallucinations.

They’d even comment on other people’s body language being a “sign” that this, that, and the other was going to happen.

And that if I did something – like put my hand, palm down on my thigh, the thing I wanted to happen would happen.. the guy at the bar would come and talk to me, or whatever.

And it would work sometimes, a lot of times, actually.

(but because I had been smiling at that same guy at the bar for the last 30 minutes or whathaveyou)

And the voices would use that win to glue their goals in my head.

That they had all the answers.

That they knew best for me.

That they were the ones to listen to.

And I bought into it, because I thought they were my thoughts.

I thought they were me.

I remember a psychiatrist that I really trusted asking me once if the voice of my thoughts was me.

And I hesitated.

And I remember him asking me something of a follow up/clarifying question, but I don’t recall what the follow up question was.

But I remember taking a hot minute to answer him.

Because one of them was me, yeah.

So I just said yes to get along with the appointment.

And besides, I didn’t really understand the question.

Because yes, but no.

But I thought about the question for years afterward, and to this day, I still remember the psychiatrist that asked me that.

It was Dr Brandt.

A psychiatrist I had in Denver.

And it was fairly early into our time together.

And I always wonder, if I would’ve answered him a touch more truthfully, if he would’ve caught my diagnosis a bit earlier.

I’m 99% sure he would’ve.

Because he’s the psychiatrist that caught on to my dissociation issues.

He knew something else was going on, but he couldn’t pinpoint it exactly.

Not all of it.

But he was right about the Dissociative Amnesia at least.

But he never caught on to anything psychosis related.

The closest he got was a diagnosis of Bipolar 1.

Which, I was told the bulk of my life that my psychosis was mania.

And it’s not.

It never was.

He was the only psychiatrist that has asked me about my thoughts, and what they sound like.

He was the only psychiatrist that ever asked me if my thoughts were in my own voice.

And even then, I was too confused, or scared, or something else to answer him correctly.

Because one of the voices IS mine.

I honestly now can’t remember if any of them were male sounding.

Isn’t that strange?

If they weren’t, I could see how that question could be very confusing, and I could think that all of them were actually me.

I’ve been away from them for a couple of years now.

I just can’t recall.

I don’t remember many male sounding voices, but I do remember some, now that I’m thinking back.

Not many, that’s for sure.

How fucking wild is that?

I’d have to go off my antipsychotic again to really find out for sure.

Which isn’t going to happen.

I think it’s just so confusing and I remember everything blending into themselves all the time.

Like, I remember when I’d play out scenarios I’d have male and female sounding voices of all timbres.

So I obviously did hear male sounding voices, because I do remember that much.

And I remember my “core” voice being very dominant.

But now I don’t hear my “core” voice, at all.

I mean, I hear it, but I don’t hear it.

It’s more of a feeling, an inclination, than hearing it.

And now, it’s definitely at the back of my head, behind my eyes, like, towards the back of my skull.

The voices used to all be out front, in front of my eyes, in my head.

They used to be all over my head, really, but much more in front, by my eyes.

And now, my thoughts are way to the back of my head, making my mind feel even more empty because it’s now seemingly not using up any of the free space that’s available.

It’s sticking to the back, and keeping the entire front area free of thought and conversation.

Where before, the conversation was everywhere, taking up all the free room available in my mind’s eye, and there was no free space.

That’s another reason why it feels like I have no thoughts anymore.

There’s too much free space up there.

My thoughts now run across the back of my mind like a teleprompter.

They’re not a chaotic crowd of people that’s been herded into a room and given shots of espresso and a redbull, and that are talking over one another.

And I cannot believe I’m just now putting this together.

I’m shocked that it’s taken me this long.

I guess I hadn’t really thought about it though either.

Like I said though, I don’t think I would’ve been able to handle it before now.

And besides, I hadn’t really even thought about how my thoughts weren’t there anymore.

Well, that’s not fair, I had.

It’s been bothering me for a few months now.

But I couldn’t really nail down what exactly was different.

Like, I knew it was quieter in my head, but I didn’t understand why it was quieter in my head.

See, I was thinking about it in my head all this time.

I hadn’t written about it yet.

For months now I’d just been thinking about how I wasn’t really able to think anymore.

About my brain being empty feeling and so fucking quiet.

And I didn’t have any of these realizations until I got it out of my head.

I couldn’t wrap my mind around it until I could pull it out and put it onto something outside of my mind where I could see the whole picture.

Where I could dissect it and see all of the parts in order to see the entire entity.

If it weren’t for writing, I wouldn’t be able to process my thoughts.

Like I said at the beginning of this, I was writing an entry before this one, and towards the end, I realized that my old thoughts were internal auditory hallucinations. 

Then I tried to plug that into the middle of the entry.

It didn’t work out well.

I had been bitching about this, that, and the other.

Complaining about side effects of Paliperidone, but comparing that complaining to wanting kids but not wanting them to throw tantrums, wanting a dog but not wanting them to bark, yip, growl, howl or make any noise of any kind.

None of the above is going to happen.

They all come hand in hand.

You get one, you get the other.

But the pros outweigh the cons on all accounts.

So, you just gotta deal.

But as I was attempting to plug in my hallucination epiphany, I realized it wasn’t working out well.

That I really just needed to start over.

Because that’s a huge realization.

It’s shocking, really.

But I’m so grateful for writing.

To be able to get this shit out of my head and onto “paper” is so fucking helpful – I can’t even express how grateful I am for it.

I knew I had a lot of clutter in my head when I first “cleared up” with the Palipieridone in the spring/summer of 2023.

(and I can’t believe it’s been over 3 years)

But I seriously can’t comprehend that I’ve been feeling so blank the past couple of years because my thoughts were hallucinations. 

And I don’t hear my thoughts anymore.

I hear my “core” self, but I don’t hear her like I used to.

She has the same tone and timbre and everything as she used to when she used to speak into the bullhorn.

But it’s not the same.

It’s basically like a very small library up there now.

Where it used to be a gigantic rave.

– Keren