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Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria: A Rollercoaster Ride Through My Messy Mind

JoLeave a comment

Time’s been flying, but not because of any fun reason Nah, I’ve been wrestling with my own brain, and let me tell you, it’s been about as much fun as trying to wrangle cats. Pissed off cats at that.
.So, RSD. is characterized by an intense emotional reaction to perceived rejection or criticism. People with RSD may feel overwhelming sadness, anger, or anxiety in response to situations where they believe they have been rejected or judged. This can lead to avoidance of social situations or extreme sensitivity to feedback. It’s like your brain decided to crank the “giving a fuck” dial up to eleven and then broke it off. Every perceived rejection or criticism feels like a punch to the gut, leaving you gasping for air and questioning your entire existence. It’s the emotional equivalent of stepping on a Lego in the dark – unexpected, painful as hell, and makes you want to curl up in a ball and cry.

When I try to explain this shit to people, they look at me like I’ve grown a second head. They don’t understand how some times that inner critic is far too loud to ignore Its hard for someone without these thoughts to understand why we know its irrational and try our best to correct things before we speak. People without these thoughts can wonder about why we feel the way we feel but if that voice is not in you, you won’t get why we end up being so fucked up we don’t know up from down right from left. They don’t get how how this is such a debilitating, all encompassing feeling that makes the bad little intrusive thoughts that you normally think, feel, and let go, end up more like think, feel, think some more about why this feeling won’t go away, argue with the sane reasonable side of yourself, lose all faith in yourself and motivation to do anything because you can’t get past this one intrusive thought as it gets louder and louder and harder and harder to reason with or ignore, cry until there’s no tears left, find more tears, eat ice cream and accept that you are unlovable and no one wants you around.

Wow, that was quick with the big feelings right? It really does go like that. It really does make you examine every interaction and put it in the frame of a failure Lets look at how impactful this is and next time I will talk about some possible help.

Self-Blame and Doubt:
I’m always on high alert for ways I can screw things up. It’s like I’m a disaster magnet, and no matter how hard I try to steer clear, I end up crashing headfirst into every emotional tree in sight. And yeah, I know it’s exhausting for everyone around me. Who wants to be a full-time firefighter for someone else’s emotional dumpster fires that seemingly never end?

Fear of Rejection:
The minute someone’s two minutes late, my brain goes into overdrive. “They hate me, I’m worthless, I knew this would happen.” It’s like I’m constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop, just so I can say “I told you so” to myself while I’m crying into a pint of ice cream.

Catastrophizing:
Every little hiccup feels like the end of the world. I’m the queen of “I’m sorry” – I’d probably apologize to a chair for bumping into it. I have in fact, and also a random shoe, a WALL, don’t know how I did that one.and probably five more crazy things, and thats only this month lol. People get tired of hearing it, but I can’t stop. It’s like my default setting is set to “Everything is my fault.” The sky isn’t falling Chicken Little!

Overgeneralization:
Sometimes in my head, every relationship is a competition, and I’m always coming in dead last. It’s like I’m playing a game where the rules keep changing, and I’m the only one who doesn’t know how to play.

Perfectionism and Self-Criticism:
I have mini freak-outs if I have to give anyone anything that’s not absolutely perfect. It’s like my brain only operates in extremes – either I’m the best, or I’m a complete failure. There’s no room for the messy middle ground where most of life actually happens.

Emotional Magnification:
The delusions during these moments are what really fuck me up. If I text three people and no one responds immediately, my brain convinces me they’re all off somewhere plotting my social demise. Rational me knows this is bullshit, but try telling that to my anxiety.

Personalization:
I’m a master at blaming myself for everything while simultaneously feeling like an arrogant ass for thinking I have that much impact on others. It’s a mind-bending paradox of self-importance and self-loathing.

But here’s the thing – I’m putting this out there because maybe, just maybe, someone else is feeling this way too. If even one person reads this and feels less alone, or understands why their thought pattern is more toxic than a radioactive waste dump, then it’s worth it.

Remember, you magnificent mess, you’re not alone in this. We’re all just trying to navigate this crazy existence, one emotional rollercoaster at a time. Til next time (which will be fairly quick since I’ve already written it) take care of yourselves, and each other.




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Hello? Is Anyone Out There?

JoLeave a comment

I know politics feels about as appealing as a root canal performed by a drunk squirrel, but hear me out. When it comes to mental health, the shit our elected officials decide can actually make or break someone’s ability to get help without selling a kidney. (This is George’s cousin Tony, and he’d not DRUNK, but he’s not sober, so he’s willing to give you a small discount)

Now, I’m not here to tell you which team to root for in this political circus. God knows they’re all clowns in different makeup. But here’s the kicker: your vote? It’s like a middle finger to the system that’s been treating mental health like that weird cousin no one talks about at family reunions.

Tonight I want to discuss Mental Health, more specifically Mental Health Deserts. No, I’m not talking about some fancy new dessert trend. I’m talking about places where getting mental health help is about as easy as finding a unicorn riding a bicycle. (In fairness we should have taken that pic before Tony shared his hooch and dared her to ride it. She’s MUCH better sober, on a unicycle)

Picture this: You’re struggling with thoughts darker than your coffee, and the nearest therapist is further away than your ex’s emotional availability. Welcome to the mental health desert, where the only thing more scarce than water is a fucking psychiatrist. Now, I know what you’re thinking. “Just go see a therapist!” Yeah, sure, let me just hop in my private jet and fly to the nearest big city. Oh wait, I can’t, because I’m too busy trying to afford ramen noodles this week.

But here’s the kicker: even if you could find a therapist, good luck affording it. It’s like they think we’re all secretly millionaires hiding our wealth in our pillow fort of depression.
So what’s a mentally fucked up person to do in these barren wastelands of sanity? Well, strap in, because I’ve got some ideas that might just keep you from losing your shit entirely:

  1. Hotlines and Crisis Text Lines: For when you need someone to talk you off the ledge at 3 AM. They’re like the Uber of mental health – always there, even if you’re in your pajamas.
  2. Teletherapy: Because sometimes the best therapy happens when you’re not wearing pants. Plus, your therapist can’t judge your messy room if they can’t see it.
  3. Online Support Groups: Find your tribe of fellow hot messes. Misery loves company, especially when that company understands your specific brand of crazy.
  4. Community Health Centers: They might not have fancy leather couches, but they do have people who give a shit about your mental health. And sometimes, that’s enough.

Look, I know it’s not perfect. It’s like putting a band-aid on a bullet wound. But it’s something. And sometimes, something is the difference between making it through another day and… well, not.

We need to make some noise about this shit. Call your representatives, scream it from the rooftops, interpretive dance about it in the town square – whatever it takes. Because no one should have to face their demons alone just because they live in the middle of fucking nowhere.

This election season, while you’re drowning in campaign promises that sound about as reliable as my ADHD medication schedule, take a hot second to think about the poor bastards struggling to get help for their brain gremlins. Your vote could be the difference between someone getting the support they need and being told to “just cheer up” for the millionth time.
So, drag your cynical ass to the polls and vote like mental health depends on it. Because, spoiler alert: it fucking does. Your voice matters, even if it feels like screaming into the void. Who knows? You might just accidentally make the world suck a little less.

Remember, you fabulous fucked up fighters, you’re not alone in this battle. Even if it feels like you’re screaming into the void, know that there are people out there who give a damn. And if all else fails, well, there’s always sarcasm and memes. They’re not FDA-approved treatments, but they’re better than nothing. Stay alive, you magnificent messes. The world needs your brand of crazy. . Now go forth and vote, you magnificent messes. If all else fails, at least you’ll get an “I Voted” sticker to slap over that existential dread.
In the near future I’m going to create a form letter that you can easily adapt for your own Senators, Congress people and representatives. It will make it a little easier to get our voices heard. Now go take care of yourself, and each other!

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More Brain Battles

JoLeave a comment

Folks tonight, in the ‘if I don’t laugh I’ll cry category, welcome to ‘My brain is a sieve and I can’t remember shit’. I know you guys get it, it happens to all of us as we get older, but man you add fibro fog, mania, and ADHD and you’ve got a special kind of mush don’t you? Welcome to the club, where we’re all annoying as hell, but no one’s more pissed off about it than we are!

Let’s start with the classic “I Know Things But Can’t Remember Them When I Need To” syndrome. You know, that delightful phenomenon where your brain is like a squirrel hoarding nuts, except instead of nuts it’s random facts, and instead of finding them when winter comes, they’re lost in the abyss of your mind. It’s like having a library where all the books are constantly rearranging themselves. Fun times! Or how about when you sit straight up in bed some random Thursday at 1:25 in the morning and suddenly someone let the tap that keeps the fun facts all neat and tidy loose and you remember your 4th grade best friend’s dog’s name. Not at all needed or wanted info, but you’ve got that shit at the ready should it ever prove useful.

Then there’s the “I Just Met You And I’ve Already Forgotten Your Name” dance. Oh, the joys of introducing yourself to someone, having a whole conversation, and then realizing you have no clue who the hell they are five minutes later. It’s like your brain has a “delete recent history” button that gets hit every time you meet someone new. Sorry, not sorry, Karen… or was it Susan? Is it awkward to ask the name of someone? How about mid convo? How about for the fourth time? How about when you are so focused on remembering their name that you don’t listen to anything they said because you were too busy committing the name to memory? See? Annoying, well aware, but any way you look at it its going to be awkward so you just gotta pick your awkward lol.

This segues perfectly into our next category “Words Go In But Understanding Takes A Vacation” experience. You know, when someone’s talking to you and you’re nodding along like one of those bobblehead dogs, but your brain is still buffering like a 90s internet connection. By the time you’ve processed what they’ve said, they’re three topics ahead and you’re left wondering if you accidentally time-traveled.

Now, I don’t know the fancy scientific terms for these delightful quirks of cognition. Maybe it’s some flavor of ADHD, a dash of anxiety, or just good old-fashioned “my brain likes to fuck with me” syndrome. Whatever it is, it’s about as welcome as a porcupine in a balloon factory.

The real kicker? We know we’re annoying people. We see the eye rolls, the sighs, the “I just told you this five minutes ago” looks. But trust me, no one is more annoyed than we are. It’s like being trapped in a sitcom where you’re both the bumbling character AND the frustrated audience.

So, to all my fellow memory-challenged, slow-processing, name-forgetting comrades out there, I salute you. We may be annoying as hell, but at least we’re consistent about it. And hey, if people get too fed up with us, chances are we’ll forget about it anyway!

Remember (ha!), you’re not alone in this cognitive clusterfuck. We’re all just doing our best to navigate a world that expects us to remember things, process information quickly, and not look like a deer in headlights during casual conversation. So cut yourself some slack, embrace the chaos, and maybe invest in some name tags.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go figure out who the hell I was talking to earlier and why I have a reminder on my phone that just says “purple elephant banana split.” Notes only work if they make sense people lol. Wish me luck! Til next time, take care of yourself, and each other!

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The Circus In My Head… A Manic Shitshow of Thoughts…

JoLeave a comment

I don’t hide where I’m at, smack dab in the middle of a mixed episode and HATING my brain SO MUCH. My mania is making me feel like I don’t have a brain in my head, I can’t retain anything. Imagine your brain is a circus, and the clowns are on a fucking bender. That’s what it’s like living with this bipolar bullshit, especially during these delightful episodes. My mind goes into hyperdrive, spewing out ideas faster than a fucking fire hose. It’s a shitshow, I tell ya.

When the mania hits, it’s like someone cracked open a can of crazy in my skull. Thoughts come barreling in like a herd of rabid elephants, trampling over any semblance of sanity. Business plans, artistic endeavors, get-rich-quick schemes—you name it, my brain vomits it out in rapid-fire succession. It’s a damn three-ring fuckery of creativity and chaos.

The ideas keep coming, faster than I can process them. It’s like trying to catch a swarm of angry bees with a butterfly net. By the time I’ve grasped one brilliant concept, ten more have already buzzed off into the ether. Some are pure gold, others are just steaming piles of shit, but who has the time to sort it all out?

In the midst of this mental maelstrom, I inevitably drop the ball. Brilliant ideas slip through the cracks, overshadowed by the constant barrage of thoughts. It’s like trying to pick out a needle in a haystack made of needles. Frustrating as hell, let me tell ya.
Sometimes, I’ll have a moment of clarity, a flash of pure genius that could change the world. But by the time I’ve finished patting myself on the back, that stroke of brilliance has already been flushed down the toilet of my mind, lost forever in the swirling vortex of mania.

So, how do I deal with this shitstorm of thoughts? Well, I’ve tried journaling, but half the time, I can’t even read my own damn handwriting. Routines and schedules? Yeah, right, like that’s gonna tame this wild beast of a brain. Nah, my coping strategy is simple: embrace the chaos, ride the wave of insanity, and hope I don’t drown in the process.

Look, living with bipolar disorder is a fucking rollercoaster ride through the depths of hell and the heights of mania. The racing thoughts are just one twisted loop in this crazy-ass journey. But you know what? I wouldn’t have it any other way. Sure, it’s a shitshow, but it’s my shitshow, and I’m gonna own it with all the creative, energetic moxy and humor I can muster.
So, buckle up, folks, and get ready for the ride of your life. It’s gonna be a wild one, but at least we’ll have a few laughs along the way. And who knows? Maybe amidst all the chaos, I’ll stumble upon the next million-dollar idea. Or maybe I’ll just end up talking to myself in a padded room. Either way, it’s gonna be one hell of a fucking adventure. Buckle up! Til next time gang, take care of yourself, and each other.

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Off with her head… or all the rest of the parts that hurt…

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We’ve all been there, some social event that you drag yourself out of bed for, any big gathering that you’ve saved up your spoons for because you know how things get. You’ve managed to smile for most of the people and start to ache, thinking only of the inevitable crash that comes after having fun with others. You’ve clocked the exits, you’re making your rounds saying goodbye to everyone. Hand shakes, gentle hugs for the chosen few, when someone sees you trying to make your quiet farewell. A loud someone. A judgemental someone. A someone you’ve artfully managed to dodge for the entire event, and there they are blocking the door. You can hear it already, their complete dismissal of the monster that consumes your entire being most days. How much you wish you could just transfer the monster to this persons back for five minutes, maybe you’d get a little empathy. Of course not. Today is the day they get through to you that you’re not feeling what you think you’re feeling, you’re feeling what THEY think you are feeling, and with a lot less first hand knowledge. Rolling your eyes and thanking them won’t work, but you are not in the mood to debate it, some people will just never believe what they can’t see, touch, or feel themselves.

You are not going to change hearts and minds here. Your best bet is to leave before anyone’s feelings are hurt (including your own, some people are mean). BUTTTTTT, you see where this is going, so you square your shoulders and smile, hoping to minimize the interaction and get out of there before drawing a crowd and having to say goodbye to everybody all over again. Bracing for it, you are not at all surprised to hear, ‘You know, I read that fibromyalgia is 100% mental, have you ever thought about the possibility you’re just too sensitive? It’s all in your head, I bet’


Oh boy. He went there. Now if you’re like me and you are not completely depleted from peopleing at this point, this is when you laugh. Not the good funny ha-ha laugh, but the ‘listen here f*cktw@t’ chuckle of you loading up the heat to roast this fool. Get out your marshmallows and gather round…

Guys fibro is hard, and fibro fog makes thinking of quick witty comebacks a near impossibility, but if you are prepared, locked and loaded with the snark this comment deserves this can be the highlight of the evening not just for you but for all in the vicinity, especially those who don’t enjoy this tool’s company. I GOT YOU! Look no further, these comebacks are sure to have him feeling the heat of that burn until the next party (where I promise at least this dumbass won’t be providing color commentary on your health.)

‘Oh wow of course! All I need to do is flip the switch in my brain labeled pain sensitivity to the off position, why didnt I think of that!’ – Ironically thats what some of our meds actually do, but this person wasn’t trying to be helpful and you don’t owe him a science lesson.

‘Wow, why didn’t I think of that? Let me just tell these nerves to stop being so dramatic’ – That one works best with an eye roll and then a fast subject change, as if you have no time for his shit.

‘Great idea! I’ll just add ‘ignore chronic pain’ to my to-do list. I’ll put it right under solve world hunger and teach you how to find the g-spot’ – That one is savage and might need to be adjusted in accordance with their sexual orientation

‘Oh silly me, I forgot to unsubscribe to the feeling pain newsletter, and I forgot my imaginary pain repellent! Can I borrow yours?’ – You can add ‘never mind, I’ll find my own, I forgot you keep yours up your ass with your head’ it depends on who is around and how much you dislike this person.

The last one is best delivered with full eye roll and exaggerated ‘I’m over this’ hair toss – ‘Ah, the elusive solution: simply pretend it doesn’t exist. Thanks for the groundbreaking advice. Remind me to cancel my doctors appointment and just think happy thoughts, why did I forget I was going to get to see Dr. Obvious, first name Captain’ and swish on out of there.

None of these are ideal, but neither are the ignorant people with uneducated opinions. You won’t change anyone’s heart or mind because its exactly as two dimensional as any other illness that has never touched that persons life, so you might as well get a decent laugh out of it, maybe provide a witness with a funny story to tell. Until next time gang, take care of yourselves, and each other!

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A bit about sarcasm and the role of sardonic wit in our self care tool kit…

JoLeave a comment

I was planning on a different topic for today but guys, I HURT. I was very dumb. Went to the little one’s track meet and applied sunscreen in the car. We’d been there about two hours when I started getting UNCOMFORTABLY hot on my legs. About an hour after that, I tell hubby I think I am burning and we get to the shade but damage was done and I’m so red, and SWOLLEN! I even took Ibu (not cool with the CKD but sporadic use should be ok.) So I needed to research laughing, to remind myself of its existence and that it wont hurt like this forever lol.

So, in the wild ride of managing fibromyalgia and bipolar disorder, self-care isn’t just a luxury—it’s a necessity. However,as with most of the challenges we face as chronic illness patients, our solution isnt going to look like everyone’s solution. We have to take each self care tip and tweak it, bend it like we’re working clay, shape it into a mold that fits our goals and our realistic expectations This is where the unexpected hero, sarcasm, comes into play.

Research has shown that humor, including sarcasm which is a personal favorite of mine, can be a powerful coping mechanism for individuals navigating the complexities of chronic conditions like fibromyalgia and bipolar disorder. Studies indicate that humor can provide numerous psychological and physiological benefits, from reducing stress and anxiety to boosting mood and resilience. It’s not just about sharing a laugh; it’s about finding moments of levity amidst the pain and chaos, reclaiming a sense of control in a situation that often feels overwhelming. Laughing has a very unique way of replenishing my spoons. I’ll be just DONE and something so absurd or silly happens and I find myself getting the energy to handle my shit.

For many of us, sarcasm isn’t just a form of humor—it’s a language of survival. It’s the witty retort we offer when faced with yet another flare-up or mood swing. It’s the ironic commentary we make to cope with the absurdity of our circumstances. Like truly ‘if I don’t laugh, I’ll cry’ moments. Sarcasm becomes a tool for self-expression, a way to assert our identity and reclaim power in moments when it feels like our bodies and minds are betraying us. Making someone laugh is a balm for me, maybe I CAN’T laugh, when I make someone else laugh I can’t help but to join in no matter how much I hurt.

Personally, I’ve found that incorporating sarcasm into my self-care routine has been both liberating and empowering. When the pain flares up and the depressive fog descends, sarcasm becomes my armor, shielding me from the weight of my symptoms. My friends and family think I’m having a good day, when in reality I feel like I’m coming out of my skin. Its only acceptable to hide from the world and cry under your desk in the fetal position for a limited amount of time. It’s not about denying the reality of my conditions; it’s about refusing to let them define me entirely.

You know, one of the coolest things about sarcasm is how it can turn the most ordinary moments into chances to crack up and bond. Like, picture this: you’re swapping sarcastic memes with other spoonies, or you’re joking about the utter ridiculousness of dealing with medical red tape. It’s like this secret language we share, right? It brings us together, helps us feel less alone in the chaos of chronic illness. It’s like saying, “Hey, I get it, and I’m right there with you.

Of course, sarcasm isn’t a cure all, and there are times when a good laugh won’t magically erase the pain or stabilize my mood. But by integrating sarcasm into my self-care toolkit, I’ve learned to embrace the messy, imperfect journey of living with chronic illness. It’s about finding joy amidst the pain, reclaiming my power in a world that often feels beyond my control. So, here’s to the healing power of sarcasm—may we always find reasons to laugh, even when the odds are stacked against us.
Til next time gang, be kind to yourself and each other

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Well staying past your welcome is just plain disrespectful…

JoLeave a comment

I think you can judge by the title what kind of day its been. You probably don’t want or need to hear how the palms of my hands are burning, but I’m going to tell you anyway, because I don’t have to fake smile with you. You don’t need me to be strong. You don’t need me to make responsible decisions. I LIKE that about you so thank you to the one person skimming this with their cereal while doing the crossword, I appreciate you. (Is it raisin bran? You seem like a raising bran person. I am a raisin bran person so I can spot my fellow raisin fans. But I’m also feeling corn flakes and fruit loops and so there’s room for error LOL). We’ll get into that too, the scrolling while doing a crossword and eating cereal. I feel you, I have to keep myself busy too. Its neurodivergence and we will discuss it in great detail once I can form words. I really should write these in the morning before the brain fog machine starts cranking, but nothing has happened by then generally. I’d write about the previous day’s activities but my day gets blurry when I look back. There’s a sweet spot I’m sure I just haven’t found it yet.

So I didn’t do much, one load of laundry, vacuum, dinner, exercise that’s the extent of it. Lots of inside my own head and reflections and spent a bit with monkey just watching tv. Now sitting here I’m getting this weird pain in my chest scaring myself but I’m sure its nothing, I’m a hypochondriac. I know this about me so its likely just a panic attack and I’m perpetuating it worrying about what and why I’m worried about it, I’m telling you its a math riddle I’m not even sure I could do the math and I’m the one who wrote the problem lol.

Anyway, I am proud of myself for making it though the monotony. If nothing else I’m always proud of myself even for just getting up as well as incredibly grateful I’m blessed to be here and breathe this air today.
I wanted to see if I could talk for a minute about the pain I’m experiencing. Maybe one of you has something similar, they all suck so in no particular order
MY HIP: Ok so there is a clear hierarchy on the pain in my body and hip decided to take point on this one. It feels as if there are electrical wires as my nerve endings and every time I hit it just right BLINDING pain. Its been this way for a while and will have me on the floor in a second if that hits. Nothing helps. Its been happening for over a year and my doc just throws up her hands and shrugs and says ‘that’s fibro?’ I get it but having been having extreme symptoms for over a year, maybe we try something else? She talked about shots and I’d consider it but I’ve read some not great things about it and I’m only putting myself through that if a higher percent of cases are a lot better.
Burning in palms and soles of feet: So this one is fairly new. I don’t know how else to explain it other than it feels like those, are they called thistles? Like soft thin thorns under my skin. It burns like poison. I don’t know what they are, but I can’t help but think this and the electrical shock pains seem like they could be the results of a pinched nerve

“Road Fog” by Ksenia Kudelkina/ CC0 1.0


THE FOG: The never ending roll after roll of thought stealing mist that is blanketing my area. I don’t think I can explain it better than that and I think if you get it my analogy would work well describing it. Simple words I have been saying all my life won’t come to mind when I need them. Under this header you can also find ‘walking into a room and having no idea why I went in there so I start doing something else, stay busy all day, and only remember when I’m laying down to sleep that I never got the thing I went in there to get. Often several times. Also, losing total track of your point minutes in to a conversation, like as you are speaking, the words evaporate like Thanos snapping his fingers. I heard a comedian’s description once and it was spot on. My brain hears some things it can’t properly process and decides to go on a little walk about. Yup, my brain doesn’t understand what its hearing so it gives up, only a short time later it catches up and wants to say something but the convo is already on something totally different.
The exhaustion: Like enough said. But its not just feeling tired all the time, its feeling tired of this or that. A lackadaisical why bother kind of vibe. I’m just so over everything.
Wide spread tender points: they all suck. Also super sensitive to tastes, smells, noise.

That’s just the fibro. We’ll talk more about mania tomorrow. Maybe. We’ll see if it pisses me off

How about you guys? Anyone have anything to add to the list? It sucks and I am proud of you for getting up and battling it. I’m going to crash, take care of yourself and each other.