The last few months have been difficult, getting worse and worse. We’ve changed my meds. This always means a phase in hell in the middle. It has led me to an important conclusion. I am stuck in a paranoid spiral.
Two people have come to this conclusion separately. I have to admit that they are correct.
I assume that everybody uses me. The entire world is fake and selfish and I am only in people’s lives while they need something from me or have some sadistic plan to deliberately humiliate me. It doesn’t have to be something physical, it could just be getting validation but whatever the reason, it is conditional.
Few people escape this assumption and this isn’t fair.
This sentiment started …. It didn’t start, it’s always been there. Festering in the darkness; growing and retracting then growing again with a will of its own. It took on a particular dimension when I got my heart broken a few years ago. Then I got progressively worse when I started this blog. From the point I started writing about my story it spiralled out of control. Combining complete focus on my problems and the fact that my medication wasn’t doing much for me had near disastrous effects on my life.
My father made me because that is what you do. I served a purpose. To fit in the correct mould; to carry on the name; because 2.4 children. I was useful for child benefits. For the potential status successful children can bring. His plan was doomed to failure of course. Firstly I turned out to be a girl.
I was bullied and harassed so often I concluded that this is all I am good for. I am not allowed to be my own person; have my own opinions; live my life as I see fit, for myself and by myself.
Having attached myself to the memories of the countless times someone’s love was conditional I could do nothing else than believe that is was true and so spiral down into complete isolation, negativity and doubt. Depression already does this on its own but patterns of abuse confirm it.
I wanted to stop this all. Get away from people for good. And having these ideas and writing about Other reinforced the option that he’d just used me for entertainment or validation. Maybe he did. I’ll probably never know but today it feels less negative and closer to a true story than it has for months now.
Isolating myself meant stopping existing on social media, distancing myself from people, finding excuses not to go to events, cancelling things I was supposed to do… any contact with people sent me into anxiety attacks. It’s exhausting.
Having my therapist point this out was a revelation. So I am working on it and I am improving. I’ve spoken to people, I’ve picked up the phone when it rang and used it to call people. Asked uncomfortable questions to those they needed asking to.
I’ve been on Messenger and chatted with people too. Laid a few of those disquieting ideas to rest by meeting up with the people concerned.
I have to consciously reason with myself about this and force the paranoia away. It’s very complicated and draining to know where the limit is between paranoid thoughts and and instinct I should trust.
I have faith I’ll get there. My new dosage and new combination seem to be starting to have the desired effect.
I used to work in a public place, with people coming and going; I used to not be scared to talk to people about anything. I don’t know if I’ll get back to that level of comfort but I’ll certainly keep at it.
Finding the way out of darkness seems to depend on those tiny moments of clarity and re-learning to give people the benefit of doubt.