Merry Christmas, Anxiety Monster

It was really nice, how many of you responded to my half-joking, kind of sarcastic Story about parenting with an anxiety disorder.  I realized that perhaps by answering here, where everyone can read it, maybe just one less person will be left feeling neurotic and pathetic because of their imperfect mental health - 

I was diagnosed with an Acute Fear Based Panic Disorder.  I got that diagnosis while still fighting for a doctor to take my physical illness seriously.  It sounds rational, that fears would trigger panic, but in many cases they aren’t what most would consider a natural fear, or its a seemingly natural fear (spiders, drowning, big loud dogs) that a person blows way out of proportion.   Someone fearing drowning may never get in a boat, into a pool, or even that bathtub; hearing really heavy rain might make them panic.  For me, my fear is the loss of control.  

I hate flying, not because I’m scared of crashing and dying, but because I don’t get to decide when we stop, even if I really need to stop.  I get anxious going into dental work or surgery, because I have no control over the outcome.  My biggest fear, though, as far as anxiety goes, is being sick, and losing control of my own body (that’s also why I don’t drink or do recreational drugs).  

It’s ironic and DEMONIC, that my biggest panic trigger has also always been my most severe symptom of Endometriosis.  I was always nauseous or throwing up or dealing with diarrhea, and I was always so fucking anxious.  I would get sucked into the most horrifying cycle of my sickness making me anxious, and my anxiety making me sick.  I’d move into the bathroom for days at a time, in a heavy Gravol and Ativan fog. 

Why is barfing so scary?!  Everyone does it!  And it’s not even the awful physical feelings that set me off...it’s the fact that if I’m going to be sick, I’m going to be sick, and I can’t stop it.  I have no choice.  It needs to come out whether I’m ready for it to, or not!  But it goes a little further for me, which is where the neurotic and pathetic feelings kick in.  

Yesterday a girlfriend told be she’d gotten hit by the tummy bug, and I instantly got prickly and warm, regardless of the fact that I haven’t been with her in weeks!  There’s no way I could have gotten her germs!  But then my husband goes out with her husband last night, and her husband gets hit this morning...so I spent the day, tense, and avoiding all kisses and snack sharing.  Reminding myself that it’s not like our husbands were making out the night before, and also preparing myself.  

‘Just in case’ is a mega coping mechanism of mine; make sure the toilets are clean, that my little drug drawer is full, that there’s ginger ale and apple juice in the fridge.  It definitely didn’t help that I was already nauseous, because it’s the end of the month, and that’s just who I am at the end of the month.  

We went to wander around Christmas lights this evening, and honestly, fresh air is SO good for an anxious brain.  I’d avoided taking an Ativan before going, because I was already so tired, but on our way home I took one.  In Starbucks, after my child said his tummy felt weird...and later that he was too full for his apple chips, and then he got real snuggly, which is wonderful, but made me panic because he’s whiny lately, not sweet and snuggly.  

I’d taken a few sips of my latte then packed it up to take home to my fridge, because I didn’t want to waste it by finishing it and then puking.  I put my kid in the car sans jacket etc..less things to wash if he ended up puking, and I checked ‘how are you feeling?’ every few minutes during the ride home.  He fell asleep.  And went right to sleep when we got home.  He’s not sick, he’s just exhausted.  Right?!  

I sat, coloring, in the kitchen until midnight, too anxious to sleep, and waiting just in case he woke up sick.  Because wake up sicks are the worst.  And now I’ll lay in bed, with our doors open so I can hear him snoring, and hopefully I’ll fall asleep.  And hopefully none of us barf.  

We’re not going to barf.  We’re fine.  And even if we are going to get sick, we will be fine.  Christmas will be fucked, but we’ll be ok.  I will be ok.  I have survived every single sick day, so why does even the mention of a sick tummy make me spin and sweat and over prepare, just in case?  Because I have an Acute Fear Based Panic Disorder.   And now you know!

Ps.  For the record, I actually appreciate being notified when friends have been sick, especially if we have been in some kind of physical contact over the last few days, or are planning on being together.  I don’t want you thinking that warning me will drive me into a nervous breakdown!  Most days I can just take a few deep breaths, and I appreciate being able to prepare ‘just in case’.