{"id":749,"date":"2020-07-25T21:39:11","date_gmt":"2020-07-26T03:39:11","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/katiesanford.net\/wp\/?p=749"},"modified":"2020-10-24T20:00:19","modified_gmt":"2020-10-25T02:00:19","slug":"when-symptoms-flare","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/katiesanford.net\/wp\/2020\/07\/25\/when-symptoms-flare\/","title":{"rendered":"A Day in My Life With Schizoaffective Disorder – When Symptoms Flare"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
\"Katie,<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Mental illnesses affect everyone differently. When I experience symptoms, to outsiders it may look like nothing is wrong. Here’s a glimpse behind the curtain of what a recent flare up was like for me.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

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I pushed my post-traumatic stress disorder yesterday. I went to a place that I usually avoid. I\u2019m proud of myself for that, but I\u2019m paying a price. I had flashbacks that evening, and symptoms of psychosis crept in, the tide rising on me today.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I take my time getting ready this morning.<\/h4>\n\n\n\n

In general, when I\u2019m stressed or anxious, I feel better if I\u2019ve put effort into my appearance; it\u2019s a form of self-care for me. I\u2019m pretty good with makeup, but still make mistakes. On the second eye, I smudge my eyeliner. Anxiety spikes, but I take deep breaths. This is easy to fix. I fuss with my hair. I didn\u2019t wash it, but I\u2019m actually surprised at how good it looks despite that. After pulling the sides back, I need to adjust a bobby pin, and the anxiety licks at my shoulders. I remind myself that I\u2019m okay.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I sit at my desk at work, my thoughts aren\u2019t racing, but they\u2019re shifting like a rubiks cube someone is trying to solve.<\/h4>\n\n\n\n

They twist, turn, relocate, and mix together. At times they\u2019re jumbled and fighting for space in my head. At others I\u2019m thinking about everything at the same time. I keep going back to my task list to try and get myself back on track and focus on one project at a time instead of going haphazardly from task to task as my thoughts rearrange themselves. Anxiety rises towards the end of the day. Will I finish everything? With some help, I do.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019m irritable, angry for no reason.<\/h4>\n\n\n\n

When my boyfriend is here during flare ups like this it takes a conscious effort to catch myself before I respond to something harmless with biting words. He\u2019s done nothing wrong, but I can\u2019t help the anger. It’s not violent, but rather a lack of patience with anything.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Today it\u2019s just my dog and I. On walks, Moose likes to swap sides at certain points to sniff those very specific leaves and blades of grass. He\u2019s not doing it any more than usual, but the irritation crawls on my skin. I have an inner conversation not unlike that of a parent to a child. Let this go. Moose has done nothing wrong. It takes a great deal of force to push this anger from my mind, and I have to focus on keeping it away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When I\u2019m home alone, music is on constantly.<\/h4>\n\n\n\n

Silence isn\u2019t necessarily oppressive, but it is dangerous when I\u2019m feeling like this. The type of music I listen to also impacts my attitude. While I would love to play music that reflects how I feel, I put on upbeat pop and hip hop. I make a simple dinner and watch music videos while I eat. I look at social media, but don\u2019t have the energy to interact.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Walking in the evening before bed is typically my solace, but these last two days it\u2019s been lashing out at me.<\/h4>\n\n\n\n

I hear people talking, I hear noises. Out of nowhere there\u2019s a loud buzzing directly in my ear, but there\u2019s no bug there. The highway by my building is roaring at me, but I lecture myself on assigning intent. The road is not roaring, it\u2019s the sound of cars going by, and it has nothing to do with me. I have to repeat this to myself several times over the 45 minutes that I\u2019m out there.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I hear people talking and I stop, turn, pause. Nothing. The sounds are overwhelming at times. The voices aren\u2019t clear. They\u2019re in my general area, but not close. It could be others out walking, but I\u2019m not sure. I can\u2019t tell what they\u2019re saying, but I worry that it\u2019s about me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Across the way, I see a woman in a pink shirt, black pants, black hat, and possibly a fanny pack. She has blonde hair and it looks short. I\u2019ve seen similar women out walking before and think nothing of it. But I round the corner and she\u2019s suddenly walking quickly in the opposite direction. Her hair, while still blonde, is long, and she appears taller. I continue as she strides away into the shadows ahead of me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Later, I see her on the cross street up ahead. Her hair is short again. She walks towards the intersection. As I cross the street, I look \u2013 she\u2019s gone. I continue walking, craning my neck to check the parking lot and two paths she could have taken. Nothing. The road continues to roar. Tears crowd my eyes. I don\u2019t know if any of these things are real. Sometimes that scares me more than when I know.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Back home it\u2019s more music, more lights.<\/h4>\n\n\n\n

I will not give hallucinations anywhere to hide and I don\u2019t want to allow for situations where I don\u2019t know. When I can\u2019t tell if it\u2019s a person or shadow or if it\u2019s sounds from the hallway or my own mind, I come unraveled. At least if I can identify if something is real or a product of my illness then I know how to handle it. But if I\u2019m not sure I\u2019m lost. If I treat something as a hallucination, then this is serious. I\u2019m not doing well, I need to talk to my doctor, we can talk about it or make medication changes. The path may not be crystal clear, but we know what we\u2019re dealing with. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

But what do you do if you\u2019re not sure? Am I unwell or am I just reading into things because I’m afraid of schizoaffective disorder? Do we increase my already high doses of medication? We can talk about it, but it might be a different conversation depending on whether the source was real or a product of my illness. The talking doesn\u2019t hurt, but the stress does.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At a certain point I\u2019m exhausted by all of it \u2013 the (possible) symptoms, the fear, the discussion. I sleep with music on quietly when I\u2019m alone. My pets don\u2019t seem to mind. They\u2019re the only ones who are never phased no matter what happens. My dog just needs more belly rubs. If only that was the solution for every issue. I hope that tomorrow is better, but I\u2019m not confident. I\u2019m not always good at being optimistic.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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For additional content, follow Not Like The Others on social media<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n