{"id":1554,"date":"2021-07-19T19:07:43","date_gmt":"2021-07-20T01:07:43","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/katiesanford.net\/wp\/?p=1554"},"modified":"2021-07-19T19:07:47","modified_gmt":"2021-07-20T01:07:47","slug":"home-sweet-mental-illness","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/katiesanford.net\/wp\/2021\/07\/19\/home-sweet-mental-illness\/","title":{"rendered":"A New Home – Real Estate, Mental Illness, and a Major Milestone"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
\"Five<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019ve been having trouble writing lately. Well, I\u2019ve been having trouble keeping up with a lot of things. My boyfriend and I are looking at buying a home. And even though it\u2019s a good thing and we\u2019re thrilled and grateful to have this opportunity, sometimes good things are still incredibly stressful. My schizoaffective disorder, depression, obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD), post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), severe anxiety surrounding perfectionism, and newly diagnosed panic disorder are always a part of my daily life, but right now the stress amplifies all of them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My head feels busy \u2013 like a hive full of bees.<\/h4>\n\n\n\n

Thoughts buzz and shift, but there is not enough room for all of them in my head. It\u2019s internally overwhelming, too loud, and far too much motion. It makes it so difficult to focus or talk or write. I wrote a blog post a couple of weeks ago, then went back and edited it. It\u2019s been sitting, waiting for a final read through, but I just can\u2019t do it. It doesn\u2019t feel cohesive to me because my brain is analyzing it in pieces with waves of anxiety in between until I don\u2019t fully remember if the paragraphs match up properly. I can have someone else read it and tell me it\u2019s fine, but I can\u2019t shake the crawling feeling under my skin and the thought that repeats over and over, \u201cwhat if they\u2019re wrong? What if it’s not perfect?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As property listings pour into my inbox from our real estate agent, I jump to cross off those listed in two particular cities.<\/h4>\n\n\n\n

The first is where the man who emotionally and sexually abused me lives.  The other is the town in which the abuse was inflicted. I make notes that those towns are not up for consideration and feel a great deal of gratitude that our agent has never tried to push them on us or ask for further details.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Our agent would like to get us into a home in a town that borders both of those cities, which I have been referring to as the \u201cdanger areas,\u201d and I hesitate. Perfectionism tells me I cannot voice dissent to this location, but PTSD has me on edge. I dance around for excuses when it feels too close, though so far excuses have not been hard to come by. I will never agree to live somewhere where I am exceedingly uncomfortable, but I have a hard time telling our agent when I am unsure.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Expressing my feelings and wishes to our agent is proving quite complicated for me. <\/h4>\n\n\n\n

I don\u2019t want to come off as pushy or rude or overbearing. Anxiety and perfectionism wring their hands. What if she hates me? Or what if she wishes she had never agreed to work with us? What if I ask her if she has any open appointments and she thinks I\u2019m too needy?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My psychiatrist reminds me that her job is to help us. Of course I can ask her about listings, express my true opinion on them, and ensure that we are all on the same page. I nod, but anxiety and perfectionism still chatter in the background. I brace myself for pushback with every message I send to our agent. But I am continually surprised when nothing seems to ruffle her feathers or dampen her positivity. Each time is a rush of relief. Yet with every new conversation starter or question I feel the hands of anxiety and perfectionism reaching for my throat again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Obsessive-compulsive disorder hangs in the background until called.<\/h4>\n\n\n\n

As the stress multiplies, it magnifies my fine motor skill issues caused by my medication. The tremor in my hands grows and movements in my fingers become less accurate and smooth. I fumble with things, throwing the OCD into motion where it howls in my ear that I must tap my feet in an alternating pattern, which I inevitably fail to do to a degree that would satisfy my OCD. Turn the cup in my hands left. Turn it right. Do it again. OCD tells me this will keep the home search from imploding, though logic tells me there is no relation. I waffle back and forth between to whom I should listen, but OCD tends to win. It often feels safer to perform the ritual than risk one more thing feeling out of control when i feel like so much is on the line.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My ability to function in daily life feels as though it\u2019s coming apart sometimes.<\/h4>\n\n\n\n

I feel stupid for struggling to follow as someone gives direction or explains anything verbally or written. I trip over my thoughts as they tangle and knot like shoelaces. It\u2019s difficult to focus on anything but home searching for extended periods of time.  And it feels like I\u2019ve nearly lost my ability to read people, or what was left of it after the onset of schizoaffective disorder swept the majority of it away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It plays out like this –<\/h4>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019m constantly questioning whether people are mad at me or like me or are indifferent, or anything else. It\u2019s confusing and frustrating. And I blame myself even though I know the culprits are the cognitive issues wrapped up in the schizoaffective disorder package. I tell myself I should know better or understand more or just generally function like everyone else. It\u2019s hard to admit that I can\u2019t, though I\u2019m lucky I can come close. But I still resist admitting that these skills may never go back to the way they were before schizoaffective disorder\u2019s sudden entry into my life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The hallmark of the last few months has been panic.<\/h4>\n\n\n\n

The panic attacks began before the home search was even offered. For months, it was a panic attack a day, sometimes more. I altered my lifestyle, including temporarily avoiding driving. I was terrified of inducing that chest-tightening, breath-stealing, frozen-in-place feeling at a dangerous time. The house search has produced ample panic attacks, but I didn\u2019t realize how much the fear had affected me until we were out touring a home. I felt excited that that particular location would make it more convenient for my boyfriend to drop me off at work on his way to his own job. Despite the fact that I\u2019m dying to get back to driving, having a convenient route for drop offs quickly became a key consideration, yet something I would never have considered before.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At this point, I\u2019m exhausted. I\u2019ve lost sleep, weight, and my appetite at times. I\u2019ve let other tasks slide despite my growing anxiety about catching up. The tension in my muscles only grows. And there are times where I find it hard to lift my heart as depression weighs it down. Softly, sadly, it tells me this will never end. It says we\u2019ll never find a house. More importantly, it tells me this storm of anxiety and symptoms will never end. I try to reassure myself, but depression can be very convincing sometimes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sometimes silver linings do exist.<\/h4>\n\n\n\n

The home search has triggered a burst of symptoms, but I am lucky to have support from all sides. I\u2019m grateful for understanding coworkers and the interesting conversations we\u2019ve had as they give me rides while I still don\u2019t feel safe to drive. Random texts checking in, though sometimes exhausting, help brush the dust of depression off my heart. At a time when I feel extremely vulnerable, I find myself developing stronger bonds with those around me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019m not so sure this experience has made me stronger, nor is it the most difficult thing I\u2019ve endured. But it will be one more life event to cross off the list of things I never thought would happen after schizoaffective disorder. Life with mental illnesses may come with alterations, pauses, and even full stops, but it is not over. It may take me longer and I may have more limitations than I used to, but it also gives me opportunities to meet people and build bonds in ways that others may not. And if my greatest accomplishment is that I survived another battle with my diseased mind, I\u2019m still damn proud of that. Because sometimes that’s what matters most – I survived.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

For more stories about my recovery and journey with mental illness, click here<\/a>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

If you would like to support and help me expand my advocacy efforts, please share this post if it resonated with you and consider donating on my\u00a0Patreon<\/a>\u00a0or\u00a0MightyCause<\/a>\u00a0pages. And don’t forget to check out the Not Like The Others Shop<\/a> at the link in the menu at the top!<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

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