I hurt myself a little while ago. I was downstairs, taking my meds, and I was almost at the bottom of the stairs up to my room when I had the sudden realization that there was something in the shadows in the living room. I immediately panicked, and bolted for the stairs, but I fell about halfway up and started thrashing, trying to get up and run but I kept falling, and I scraped up my forearms and elbows pretty good. I kept trying to tell myself, “there’s nothing there, there’s nothing there”, but then I’d be CERTAIN it was right behind me and I went right back into a panic. Eventually I made it up, shut myself into my room, and made sure it was safe. I babbled to myself a bit, pacing the floor, eventually curling up on the bed, hugging my blankets and rocking, until I was a little calmer. I then had to lay on the floor for a while until my heart slowed down and I could breathe.
This little scene just reminds me that even when I feel relatively okay, I’m always just one little nudge away from losing it completely. I’ve gotten so used to my hallucinations, my abnormal thoughts, that I tend to disregard them and think I’m fine when I’m actually very symptomatic. And then something like this happens, and I completely forget everything, all my rationalizations and logic, and I’m a terrified animal running for my life. Hey, at least it’s good cardio.