Just enduring a nice little Monday panic

I'm home, I'm not home alone, I'm safe, I'm prepared, and I'm medicated..now I just have to hold on, and hang in there until it dissipates. Which gives me time to write about something that has been bothering me ever since I started to get really sick!

My mom and I got to go to a baby shower yesterday. And you know not much makes me more comfortable then a baby! On the opposite end of things, there is also one thing that makes me extremely uncomfortable. Not quite as uncomfortable as I am stuck on a toilet right now (where would we be, without mobile phones that allow you to type drafts for a blog no matter where you're stuck?!), but uncomfortable.

"What's new with you? What have you been up to?"

Huhhhhh.

I'm rarely at a loss for words, but my brain doesn't function fast enough to spin my current situation into a something to be proud of, on the spot like that! "Can I just go over here and jot down a few ideas, and then get back to you?" That is my first thought.

Yesterday was especially hard, though. We were visiting family friends that we hadn't seen (and I'd been missing!) for a really long time, so there should be a lot to actually catch up on. But when one of the sons has just brought a perfect little girl into the world, two of the sons are engaged, and all four of them have brilliant and beautiful girls with them..I can't help but feel ashamed of 'what's new and what I've been up to'. It also doesn't help when it's mentioned how brilliant my baby sister is, and how successful she's been at University, and how she's really going places. And that my little brother lives independently and just started a big new job he's really excited about!

Sometimes it feels like the whole world is making leaps and bounds all around me. I'm just siting in the middle of a giant intersection like an unsafe moron, and everyone else, whichever direction they're going, is passing me.

I suppose I could just suck it up, and be thankful that at least no one has run me over yet!

I bump into people in the grocery store, moms of old friends, or old high school classmates at work, and I become a big fat liar. What's the point in saying anything but, "I'm doing good thanks"? Nobody asks how you are and actually wants to hear, "Well. Since we last saw each other I've lost 20lbs because I've been so sick, I've been a patient at a mental hospital, I've begged my own father to just kill me after throwing up and shitting my pants for two hours, I've lost like 4 jobs because of too many legitimate sick days, and I still live at home because I can't afford to move out with the love of my life..yep, that's about it! How about yourself?"

Last night my mom spoke up (I think, because she feels sorry for me) and let everyone know that I'd graduated college with my ECE diploma, and that I'd like to go back to school so that I can specialize in working with children with special needs. But who hasn't graduated college? And who doesn't have plans to go back to school one day? I just can't compete, when I'm the only sick and anxious person at a table full of beautiful and normal-abled people.

I will note that one of the boys was really impressed by my newest tattoo, which lead to talking about all my poetry, and blogging, which made me feel a lot better about myself. Tattoos are fantastic diversion! "What have you accomplished lately?" "Ughhh..Wana see my new tattoo?!"

I could take a second, and stop feeling so sorry for myself and just tell people the truth when they ask, I just don't know how to say it. It doesn't make any real sense to anyone, no matter how I explain it. People don't realize that for me, remaining alive and willing, is a huge accomplishment. Actually. People can't understand that having a panic attack in my bathroom without calling my daddy in to hold my hand until it's over, is actually something that I can now be really proud of. Or I should be, anyways!

I don't have a problem talking about depression, or panic, or a constant fear or pooing in my pants again...I'm not actually embarrassed. But I need to really know that someone really wants to know the truth. And that's hard to decipher. Is someone asking about your life because they're genuinely interested in whatever you might say? Or are they just being polite, because it's polite to ask people about themselves? (It is the polite thing to do)

I don't know. And this particular entry doesn't have a decent conclusion. Which makes it more of a rant I guess. Or just something better for my brain to concentrate on, instead of 'Why the hell am I spinning, and nauseous, and pounding and sweating YET again?'

If I have one weakness as a writer, it's my lack of ability to end things eloquently. Beginnings are easy-peasy once you have any kind of idea, and after that I can write, and write, and write! But whether it's a story, or a blog, or even a poem, I'm not all that good at wrapping things up.

Maybe it's because everything I write is just so damn good, I don't want it to end.

The Anxious Brain

I was trying to explain WHY I'm so on edge about my appointment to get my blood work done (attempt number 2).

I have one column full of times that I have successfully given blood without falling over and wanting to die. Then there's column two, with ONE bad experience, and suddenly my brain flushes column one right down the toilet!

'Irrational Fears' from an anxious brain is what that is, and sometimes you have to consciously remind yourself of reality. It's one of the chapters in my Anxiety And Depression For Dummies Workbook, taking the time to physically show yourself what's real.

Ex. I, and a million other people have had blood taken with no problem, before

Ex. I will have Ativan and imodium to keep me calm, and a very distracting mother

Ex. If I do start to panic, I'll have extra drugs to bring me back together

Ex. If the same thing happens again, the clinic is prepared for it, with cold compresses, and paper covered pillows, and juice

Ex. I'll have Snapple, and happy-time videos of Brooklyn and Buddy

Ex. I have survived the fainting and feeling sick once already

Ex. Worst case scenario, I'm too freaked out, and have to leave and try again another day

Ex. This blood work could prove a B12 deficiency which could be the answer to all my tummy issues, so it's worth a try

It's a little creepy, when you can differentiate the thoughts you have, and realize that you don't have full control of your own thoughts.

I remember being at the beach with my boyfriend and I started to panic seriously, because I was overheating. My brain jumped to the conclusion that I was overheating because I was about to be sick or have to rush to to go the bathroom. That was my first thought. It was long..long minutes later that I finally realized I was more likely overheating because we were outside, directly in the sun, in 35 degree weather.

It's hard work, and takes a lot of repetition and practice (unfortunately I've had plenty of opportunities to practice) to shorten the time between irrational thoughts made by your anxious brain, and realistic conclusions. Sometimes it's too late, and no matter what you try to convince yourself of, you're stuck in the middle of an attack that you just have to endure. It's a powerful thing, the anxious brain.

To most people, reality is an obvious thing. 'There's no need to panic,' is often the first thing that someone on the outside will say to you when you're having a panic attack..or want to say to you, but know better then to. They haven't dealt with an anxious brain themselves. I like to think that it was a panic sufferer who first doodled the angel and the devil on either side of someones shoulders, bickering back and forth about whether or not to start shaking and sweating!

Anyways. That's why my nerves are so on edge that I feel colostraphobic in my clothes, over the anticipation of a needle in my arm in 12hrs.. An anxious brain! Ta-da!

Too bad KNOWING it doesn't cure you of it.

I just have to keep making lists of reassuring realities in preparation.

(On the scale from 1 to 10, 1 represents very mild panic and 10 represents the most severe)

I've been having these mini..insta-attacks lately.

Usually an attack starts around a 3 and I have maybe 3-5minutes to settle myself before it hits 6 or 7 and I need an Ativan to keep it away from 8, 9, and 10. They usually build 'slowly', then level off around a 4-5, until I suddenly realize it's over (sometimes 15 minutes, sometimes 2 hours later)

Lately though, it's 1 to 10 in 15 seconds, and then back down to a 2 or 3 just as quickly! I can't even comprehend it, it's that fast. I mean it nearly, literally, knocks me only ass. I start to sweat, and spin, and by the time I've barely squeezed the cold cloth over the sink and slapped in behind my neck, it's gone.

Gone, but not all gone. It doesn't last as long initially, but the aftermath is the exact same as a drawn-out, full-blown attack. I mean, it wouldn't even register at 2 minutes, yet my heart is still exhausted, I'm still scared to close my eyes, and muscles just jitter...like they're left to idle and keep warm while the panic just ran into the store for a pack of smokes after filling up it's tank.

My body is exhausted, but too terrified, and on-edge to let go and relax. Because that can't be it, can it?

'God doesn't hand you more then you can handle'

'God doesn't hand you more then you can handle'

A friend tweeted that today, and it made me think. Well, I've heard that quote 100 times, and I have always thought the same thing. This time though, I am very open to, and hoping for someone (anyone!) to explain it all to me, once I'm done ranting.

I think that some people would find the quote flattering, that's one way to look at it. "Aw, shux! God thinks I'm so strong and brave and THAT'S why the shit it my life keeps piling up on my head! What a guy!"

When I look at it though, I get confused. If I'm being handed all the shitty cards, because I'm so great and I'm so strong, does that mean god thinks that everyone else out there WITHOUT regular panic attacks and stomach aches, are just a bunch of sissies?!

Personally, I think the person who came up with that inspirational passage was some super religious person trying to find a way to kindly make up for their claims that God is the all-powerful being.

We're told that God does everything and rules everything and he's always watching, but that only comforts us mortals until the shit starts getting real. Once people start getting diagnosed with cancer, or sent home from Iraq in coffins, or losing babies, or getting raped, then someone comes up with, 'God doesn't hand you more then you can handle.'

Let's say I understand it, I understand that God thinks highly of me and my capabilities. I think, no..I'm pretty sure that 4 years ago, I could have said, "Thank you God, for testing me and showing me just how strong I am.". But that was 4 years ago... I am now 4 years later! And after 4 years of the same up and down and WAY down, after 4 years of feeling on the verge of throwing up, I don't feel so thankful or empowered.

And I still sit with that 'why me?' question. Maybe I wouldn't mind being on God's SISSY list!? How does that get decided? And how do the tests get decided? Does a note come up on His computer, flashing 'Our Panic Disorder Quota is Getting Low' and he concludes, "Jorja! She could handle that!"

Gee, thanks!

I just, I get it already! God thinks I can handle panic attacks. I KNOW now that I can handle it! But enough already, you know? I'd appreciate it if God laid off, and started showing someone else how profound they can be when pushed to the limits!



(Oh, please! If you didn't know by now that I am no big believer, then that's your fault for not reading me more thoroughly. Non-believers have wonders too, though, you know?)

A Princess and a Monk Walk Into a Bar

My boyfriend sent me a link that was posted on the Dalai Lama's Twitter page. No, I don't know if he actually tweets, but at least someone is getting his word out there!

It was long, and not ENTIRELY relevant, but the overall moral was this: "The mind's most marvelous quality is that it can be transformed"

As it continues to feel exhausting and depressing, waiting for that physical fix to my issues, I really need to realize and work on the fact that I still have good in my life.

Mr. Lama also explained that when there is negativity in our lives, we have two ways to look at it. We can either realize that it is something that can be fixed, and instead of stressing over what to do and how to fix it, take comfort in knowing that it will be done. Or, if it turns out the issue is insolvable, we must choose to accept that there is nothing we can do about it, therefore we shouldn't stress over it.

I can do some work on recognizing that every IBS or anxiety related attack will always pass no matter what, and try to focus on, and take comfort in that, as opposed to dwelling so deeply on the current fears and symptoms. That is something I can work on.

And instead of worrying and feeling utterly guilty for the way my illness/issues have been destroying many aspects of my life..I need to believe that one day I will be fine, maybe even boringly normal, and all this SUCK will just be behind me.

I suppose that if the Dalai Lama can remain positive despite losing his country and his identity, I must be able to look harder at the happiness in my life.

POLL OF THE DAY:

You are on a beach in the sand. Don't get too comfy... Because you are also tied to an anchor, stuck there.

What would you prefer?

A) Every 5 minutes a huge tidal wave come crashing down on your head and just throws you around, and then it washes back out to sea, and you can catch your breath and cough the seaweed out of your lungs...then 5 minutes later you see that wave coming back. Then you get a chance to catch your breath again, and brace yourself for the next wave..

B) A monsoon bursts off the ocean and lands right on top of you, and terrorizes the beach around you and just drenches you for an entire hour, but once it lifts, you are free for good.

I cant decide still. When I'm stuck in the bathroom, I like the little breaks..to recollect myself, but the breaks also get my hopes up. Because you can never know if it's actually passing, or if it's just a lull in the attack. Sometimes I think it'd be easier to just get the crap kicked out of me all at once, so that when I finally start to feel better, I know it's over for sure.

Ok, I know! I'd choose

C) HOW ABOUT I NO LONGER GET STUCK ON THAT EFFING BEACH IN THE FIRST PLACE??! Hmm.