Sometimes, It's Okay Not To Share Everything

Hey guys, what's up?

I was recently in the hospital for mental health reasons. I won't get into the details of it, but I attempted something very scary.

I'm doing a bit better now, but I wanted to talk about something today.

If you've been reading along, you'd know that I've had a genuine episode of psychosis. You can scroll to my earliest blog posts to get the full scoop, but it sucked. I had a very public episode and plastered my conspiracy theories all over my social medias. Everyone knew that I was in some kind of crisis.

Instead of reaching out, a lot of people gossiped about me behind my back. I was ostricized without an opportunity to explain myself. A common rumor about me was/is that I am schizophrenic. People think that I am so fundamentally defective and dangerous now.

Again, I have written extensively on the science of psychosis and that it does not equal schizophrenia at all.

I have written about it already. I could write pages and paragraphs about it again, but that isn't what this post is about.

It's about how much gossip has hurt me.

I am two years out from my episode. I thought that I had finally outrun it. I thought that I was safe from any further rumors and gossip. I had two new jobs that had new people in them. I have new friends. I have successfully been able to start over.

Then, I worked with someone who had also made a job change.

A job change from my previous workplace.

She immediately brought up my episode.

"It sure looked like a schizophrenic episode to me."

"You're about that age for schizophrenia onset."

I tried to explain myself. I tried to tell her that psychosis can happen to anyone. I tried to tell her that I am bipolar with extreme PTSD.

It was no use.

It triggered everything in me. All of the shame and grief came back in full force.

I hadn't been successful in my attempt to rebuild my life.

It never matters.

My episode is all that I will ever be.

So, I tried to do something stupid.

I had seizures. I nearly stopped breathing.

Thankfully, I was unsuccessful.

I am now able to recognize that the source of all of this shame was repressed somewhere deep inside me. It came out, as all things do, when I was at the breaking point.

I have more to write, but I simply can't right now. My brain is recovering. I am tired.

I just wanted to update you guys a little bit about where I've been lately.

Talk soon, okay?