When You Can’t Trust Your Own Brain
Muddled feelings circle my head as I stare blankly at the computer screen at work. It feels like everyone is upset with me. Like all I do is annoy people and get in the way. But is that just my depression? I read anger on the face of a coworker. But is that just my brain malfunctioning? What was that noise? Was it real? Am I just reading into things too much? I know that reality can slip through my fingers. Even in small ways and without excessive stress, my mind can create thoughts, sensations, and experiences that are not real. How can I trust that my thoughts and responses are based on truth rather than the lies my brain shouts and the experiences it creates? What if the insight that allows me to recognize symptoms failed me? How can I trust myself?
The moment I heard that laugh bursting from the air in the corner of my bedroom, I knew things would never be the same.
Knowing what I know now about hallucinations, one source-less laugh could mean numerous things. But, in my heart, I knew it was schizophrenia or something related. And I knew it before I even took the time to walk myself through the options – could it have been the TV? Did I have music playing? Was there anybody in or outside of the house that could have produced that snicker? No, no, and no. I recognized that my brain was ill and interfering with the activity of my mind. But theories of what the future would hold were not given space in my head.
But the hallucinations were not the only, or even worst, culprit.
Hallucinations twist your mind and make you question your perception of reality. But schizophrenia and schizoaffective disorder extend well beyond that. What crawls up my spine and into my brain, infecting my perception of the world is much more subtle.
Are you angry with me?
People with schizophrenia spectrum disorders can have difficulty interpreting ambiguous facial expressions. In fact, they may instead register them as either angry or afraid. In my case, I often read people’s facial expressions as them being angry with me. Like may on the schizophrenia spectrum, I also misread social cues. My brain will twist your tone. It will make a kind gesture seem as though you are actually disgusted with me. All the while, it’s shouting that everyone hates me, no one wants me around, all I do is make mistakes. I scramble to try to convince myself otherwise, but then paranoia steps into play.
My paranoia fans the fire.
As I desperately try to reason with myself, the paranoia pipes up. It insists that everyone is annoyed with me and hates that I am there. They know what you’re thinking, it says, you’re only here because they feel obligated to keep you around. Logic struggles to speak above the noise. Sitting in my chair, I wish I could cover my ears, even though it wouldn’t stop the clamoring thoughts in my head. In these moments, all I want to do is hide. But that’s never really an option in everyday life.
So how does this impact my daily life?
Some days are okay. My insight wins out; maybe the paranoia takes a vacation. But on other days, it is a struggle for me to feel like I fit in, like I am wanted, like people don’t hate me. I will feel myself being dragged towards the pit in which depression lives. My thoughts spin circles – did I do something wrong? Say something wrong? Fail to do or notice something? Why am I not a part of the group? Maybe because I don’t always join in and they don’t want to force me? Or maybe they just wish I would go away.
Working becomes more stressful when I feel this way. My focus wanders back to the do-they-don’t-they constantly. I worry about asking too many questions or interrupting people when they’re working. I fear it might only make things worse. How do I handle it if I need help? Perfectionism throws its hat into the ring and I begin to hate myself for all of my mistakes, however tiny. Clearly this is my fault. I am not good enough. As the black cloud of depression wraps me in its arms, I interact less and less. I withdraw into myself and sit in the middle of the internal argument. But there is still a small part of me screaming that these things aren’t true. I just don’t feel like I can trust it.
There are times where anger joins or takes the place of depression.
In some cases, I stand up for myself in my mind. I have done nothing wrong. This is not fair. why are people treating me this way? I do not deserve this! But whether I am angry or despondent, I never feel comfortable outright asking if someone is upset with me. I fear people may lie. Alternatively, they may be straightforward, which can hurt. Or they might get even more frustrated with me for asking at all. It can also be difficult when I believe multiple people in the room share the same level of disgust towards me. I already feel alone. I fear asking could only make things worse.
Nobody is excluded from this either. On many occasions, I have thought my friends, family, and my boyfriend have been angry with me when that was never the case. Even at my last therapy session, the paranoia softly crept in and whispered that, as we were discussing this very topic, my therapist was harboring feelings of hatred and annoyance as well.
What do you do when you feel like you can’t even trust your own thoughts and perceptions?
I’ve been in emotionally abusive relationships. People have tried to manipulate me and control me. But it feels different when you’re gaslighting yourself. There is no out of this. There is no leaving. My brain is permanently ill. Therapy can help me feel okay overriding some of these feelings. But the truth is, I may never truly be able to trust what I think, feel, or perceive. Not with schizoaffective disorder holding my brain hostage. So I utilize other people. I ask others for clarification of hallucinations or the intent of another. In social situations, I compare my initial response to that of others. And I use logic to remind myself why it doesn’t make sense for a friend to have malicious intent. I cling to a shred of trust in my own judgements. Then I cross my fingers and I hope I’m right.
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