Tons of trips to the psychiatrist’s office and a million rides heading up to the emergency room, everyone doubts my anxiety attacks and mental status. Doc told me during therapy that I was ‘too put together’. I seemed to be very personable and “normal”. He doubts that there is anything wrong with me. The most productive thing in therapy is when he writes my scripts.
The only people who truly know my anxiety and depression is my girlfriend of course, and my ex-girlfriend. Think about it, we often show our true colors to the people we love the most—outside from our family. Madelene gets to see me in my raw state of mind at times. Aside from that, she goes off to work, in fear that she won’t see me ever again. My anxiety has become her anxiety; her fear of losing me ‘for good’.
I’m okay though. Doc says so. Doc says that it’s normal to have anxiety & depression. I even told doc about my thoughts about suicide. I often back the statement up with my fear of going to hell—and that I wouldn’t want to disrespect God and take my own life. That would be like slapping God in the face with a gift He gave to me. I’m not that rude. I sometimes get angry at God, asking Him why I’m so sick and why I go through pain every single day of my life. It can be worse, I know that.
I do get answers. I have to be calm though. I can’t be walking around like a hysterical lunatic throwing the last of my crumpled up tissue full of tears in the waste basket. He tells me to sit down—take a deep breath—and know that this will pass. Sure—it’ll pass alright, just like cars on a highway—another hundred will come flying through. When will it end?
At night, I sometimes grab a glass of milk and watch TV to relax with Madelene. Milk seems to calm me. Lately, I’ve noticed I’ve been edgy after drinking milk; more on the lines of wackiness PMS-type of behavior. I lash out or start crying out of the blue. I didn’t realize what was happening to me. I just recently found out that the milk I was consuming was flooded with hormones. Oh lovely—just what I need. Out of habit, I had to have a glass of milk last night, and Madelene watched me drink it in fear. This morning, I was a complete mess. I should be out on a ledge somewhere, but instead, I’ll make my illness known to the world.
Before going about my day, I was planning on writing something funny; something to possibly lift someone else’s spirits up. I can’t do that today. I need to have my spirits lifted up. I almost didn’t write at all. I had no energy or motivation to. I said to myself, “Let me just check my comments to see what people left---and their funny remarks to make me laugh a little.” Then I came across so many wonderful people who left comments. I appreciate ‘all’ of them. Two stuck out that made me feel better. Those two that stuck out encouraged me to blog today.
Amz wrote a novel in my comment section. I love that—when people feel comfortable to blog within my blog. It’s great. I encourage it! Amz is an amazing writer. She talks about her life in such a raw form—that it makes her ‘real’. She’s not afraid of being human and letting others out there know, “You’re not the only one.” She’s an amazing person. This is what she wrote:
“You know what though, sometimes anxiety is good. Stop stuffing your feelings and they will stop overfilling your chest. I ended up married to the most horrible person when I was so doped up and I blame it partially being because I couldn't feel it was wrong. My grandma, mom, sister, brother and I all have anxiety attacks. I went to the emergency room twice because I couldn't breath. They thought I had asthma and gave me an inhaler...LOL, MISTAKE! If you are hyperventilating do NOT use an inhaler...haa aha haa... Anyhow, I handle my anxiety on my own again. The meds were too much...too weird...I laugh a lot at myself and that helps. I allow myself to stay home if I want. I don't force myself to do anything. I really am starting to learn you have to 'feel' your way through life and no matter what you feel it is OK. Anger, sadness, overjoyed, retarded, silly, all of it! It is all good!”
Amz really put it all out there. All of you who don’t think you help others by blogging---truth is---you do! I even consider your comments to be better therapy than I get from doc.
After reading her comment, I felt better. Someone out there knows what I suffer through. Someone else grabbed her inhaler thinking it was just hyperventilation and asthma problems--when in fact it was an anxiety attack. That stuff will make your heart race more than crack!
I went to grab some coffee, and then another comment came flying in. My buddy Leesa—who is an incredible blogger herself—wrote such a nice comment. Leesa’s posts are always funny, quick-witted and sometimes a bit risqué—but that’s what I love about her. Leesa’s also ‘real’ and isn’t afraid to show her true colors.
I thank all of you who encourage me. I’m so glad I found the blogworld. I’m glad I met wonderful people like Kathi, Os, Saurkraut, Geoffrey, Stevo & Crassius, Becca, Green, Romey, Natalia, Mella, Amazing Grace, Marcy, Bhakti, Miss 1999, Mike and Walking Contradiction to make me laugh and give me words that encourage me. I know I left a slew of people out of that list, but you know I appreciate every one of you! I apologize if I forgot a name—I’m just drained today.
Today is a mental health day. I’m going to walk three miles—even though the doctor at the emergency room told me that walking is bad. He states that it has no impact on the cardiovascular whatsoever. This is news to me. Whenever I come back from a brisk walk or jog, I’m sweating and out of breath. He even says running is bad--don't do it--your joints will pay for it later. This has no benefit at all? I’m so sick of hearing conflicting stories from doctors. I sometimes think I’m the normal one—and all the doctors need help.
I’m leaving off with this. Thank you for the people in my ‘real life’ who have put up with my manias. Thank you for the people who understand my wackiness. Thank you for the bloggers who come over to my site, and give me encouraging words. I also thank my friends who are out there wondering where I am—because I sometimes fail to call or write them. Sometimes I don’t feel well enough to contact certain people—which I hope they understand. They know I love them all. When I get a hold on my mental stability, you’ll be hearing back from me—promise! Then again, no one believes me, not even doc. What will it take for the doctors to prove that I'm not well? I'll be off for a few days.
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