Ups and Downs
This has been a hard week for me. Last Monday I went to the doctor and requested to be started on a daily medication to combat my anxiety. I have never done this before. I have also never had to take Xanax every day before either, so there is that.
She started me on a medication that will hopefully slow the panic attacks that are taking over my life. The problem? She told me it could get worse before it got better. That while the drug was building up in my system, my anxiety could skyrocket. I didn’t think it was possible for it to get worse.
I was wrong. She was right.
The anxiety, the panic attacks, the tension headaches, the nausea, the insomnia…all worse.
I know there is a light at the end of the tunnel. I know that I needed to take this step. I know that this will work. There are points in my day where I feel great…better than I have felt in years. Relaxed and calm.
Then it crashes back and knocks me over. The fear and the self hatred that I can’t just calm down on my own. That I am failing to control my own emotions to the point that I need medication. That I just can’t handle my life, which I love.
I’m fighting it. I’m doing the best I can and praying that as hard as these first few weeks are – I will come out of it a better mother and a better version of me.
Fighting Myself
This has been a rough week for me. Physically and emotionally.
Sunday night landed me in the ER with chest pain. Wasn’t really my idea, but I work on a cardiac unit and they take chest pain sort of serious up there. My coworkers informed me either I was walking down to the ER or they were going to Rapid Response my ass. Needless to say I walked down.
Had a full cardiac workup and once again my heart looks good. First diagnosis was Pleuritis, basically a inflammation of the lining of your lungs. I didn’t buy it, I’ve had it before and it didn’t feel this way. I had my follow up appointment at my brand new family doctor yesterday (LOVE) and she didn’t agree with the doctor either. She thinks it’s an issue with the tissue between my ribs. Luckily the treatment is the same for both ailments, so hopefully I am on my way to recovery.
The issue? With the chest pain comes the anxiety. The panic attacks have been alive and kicking this week. Only now the dirty panic filled wench comes with a brand new symptom in her already full arsenal. For the first time ever, my panic attacks are affecting my breathing. I am getting immense pressure at the base of my throat. I always CAN breathe, but it gives the feeling like you aren’t going to be able to.
It is awful. And terrifying. And generally sucks more than anything I have ever experienced. I am getting an ultrasound of my thyroid on Monday just in case, but the doctor really thinks the throat issue is anxiety related. So now I have one more thing to fight my own body with. This game is really getting old.
I am really just over all of this. I would give a lot to go back to July 5th 2005, one day before my first panic attack. It was the last day I was truly free and I miss that carefree girl.
The One That I Struggle With Every Day
I struggle with anxiety.
I fight fear daily.
I have tried so many times to explain my panic attacks to various people.
Doctors. Family. Friends.
I try to make them see that my life is great. That I am not upset about anything. That there is nothing that I can really do to control it.
My attacks are mainly physical. I basically just let me head run away with little symptoms.
That little ache in my left calf? BLOOD CLOT.
The headache behind my right eye? TUMOR.
Swollen lymph node even though I was just sick? LYMPHOMA.
I don’t run to the doctor with all my little issues, I know deep down that they are crap. But in my head, for a few minutes…they are out of control.
I do try and avoid certain situations. I haven’t been on a plane since 2004, three months before my first panic attack. I am not scared of the plane crashing. I am not scared of the people. I am terrified of having a panic attack in public. Of not being able to leave if I wanted to. Of maybe, just maybe…actually having a heart attack, or a pulmonary embolism or any other host of issues that could occur. Of no one being there that could help me.
One of the main reasons I looked for jobs at the hospital? There is an emergency room right downstairs, with plenty of people around who are trained to HELP me if I need it. It’s so ridiculous.
When I go to a new place, I usually find where the nearest hospital is…just in case. Being in NYC this past August was incredibly difficult for me. I was there with no car, with no security net. Without my husband, without my rock. I got through it, but really only because I COULDN’T leave. I think I would have gone home if I could. Main reason I didn’t have a car? I was too scared to make the drive home alone.
I fight with this every single day. It is exhausting. I’m so tired of it.
BlogHer10 Recap
Here is it. The obligatory recap of what was the most fun I have had in a long time.
Going to NYC was hard for me. I haven’t been away much since 2005 when I was diagnosed with a severe panic disorder. I haven’t gone ANYWHERE without Jim by my side. I haven’t left the boys. Haven’t haven’t haven’t.
Well bitches. I have now.
Wednesday saw an influx of twittering, texting, squeeing women to the Hilton New York. There were hugs and tears and laughter. I sat back a bit and watched the scene. Surprisingly enough…I was more at home on the streets of the city than I was in that hotel. I’m familiar with New York and we are friends.
Thursday I hit the streets with some Canadians. I took them to Times Square so they could play tourist.
Me? I’d seen it before. I was busy.
We went to the Hard Rock Cafe for lunch, I had forgotten how neat the stuff in that place was.
Thursday night came and onto the first round of parties I went. I got to squish on the writers of some of my favorite blogs, women who have become my friends over the course of the past year or so.
Heather!
Cindy!
I met Gavin Degraw.
Friday started the actual conference. I whirled around the morning, trying to orient myself to the chaos. Then I was invited to a beautiful moment. Thirty minutes that brought me to my knees. Even though the moment was all about Karen…I was able to witness it because I shook my fist at my own fears. It was huge. For so many reasons. This one moment brought so much peace to me for the rest of the weekend. I am so grateful I was able to be there.
If I hadn’t been there..I would have missed some of this awesomeness.
Colleen
Brittany
Scariest 5 blocks of my life.
People at work have been asking me, “What did you go to New York for”.
My response? “To hang out with 2,400 of my closet friends.”
See you in San Diego.
They Are My Therapy
11:15 pm. I am laying in bed watching a movie featuring a gloriously good looking young man. I have to get up at 5:30am but I can’t sleep. I toss and turn, smushing my pillow this way and that under my head. I search for the cool spots on the bed with no luck, but I still keep our blanket covering most of me. I always sleep like that.
A familiar tingle runs up my spine and I pray that this wasn’t going to turn into a full blown panic attack. I feel my heart begin to speed up and I throw the covers off and sit on the edge of the bed, attempting to get my body back into control. I stand up and walk halfway down the hallway to the room that holds the two innocent lives that I am responsible for. I have to keep my shit together…I can’t lose it until someone else is here with them. I turn back and go into my bathroom instead, holding on to the counter for dear life. I look up into my reflection and see sheer terror in my eyes. I try to tell myself that I have felt like this before and didn’t die…but my head doesn’t listen. Everything in my body screams that this time is different. This time I will die.
I wish Jim was home.
I go down the stairs and turn the air conditioning up a few notches. I slowly walk back up the steps, trying to keep my heart rate from going any higher than it already is. My cell phone is tightly clenched in my fist, I need to have it near me in case I need it. I am headed back into my room when I decide to go in and look at the boys.
I step over the gate at their door and enter their room. I walk over to Jimmy’s crib first and gently rest my hand on his back. He arches against my hand and scoots his legs under his body bringing his little booty up in the air. I toss a light blanket over him and move on to Chase.
Chase has fallen asleep with 3 Matchbox Cars and a portion of their track. I pull all the toys out of his bed and slowly ease down beside him in his twin bed. Laying flat emphasizes how fast my heart is beating and my body is dying to get up. To move. To pace. Anything. I don’t move. I stay there and concentrate on the up and down of Chase’s chest. I concentrate on the warm weight of his head on my shoulder. I concentrate on them and once again, like so many other times, they save me.
Work and Beach and BlogHer, OH MY!
It’s official. The countdown portion of my year has begun! The next 2 months are jam packed with craziness and I absolutely CANNOT wait.
Last Monday started my summer session of classes. I’m taking Abnormal Psychology and so far so good. All it is really showing me is how crazy my mother really is. But I knew that already, and it was reaffirmed to me today. Crazy. Some days I am seriously glad that I am adopted and none of that is in my genes. Gah.
Anyway…backtracking. The class is 6 weeks long or so, placing the end day as July 1st. I had to rearrange my work schedule to accommodate the class and found myself working 7 weekends in a row. Seven. BOO. However…at the end of the seven weeks come (drum roll please) A WEEK AT THE BEACH. Thank the sweet baby Jesus because I need a fracking break. For realz.
So we come back from the beach and then there is only a couple weeks until BlogHer! I am so excited to be going. Not just to meet these amazing people who are such a huge part of my life. Not just to juggle the bull’s balls with someone I can’t wait to booze with. Not just to be kid and husband free in my favorite city in the world. Not even just to Nom Nom on the cutest baby ever.
I am excited to be taking a step. A step away from the anxiety that has grounded me since 2005. A step away from being too afraid to put myself out of my comfort zone. A step that I should have taken a long time ago. A step that will probably take some xanax and some hand holding.
I think I just need one more thing. Some killer shoes.
Thinking Hurts My Brain…And My Heart
I have an appointment next Monday that I have been putting off for a long time.
The Dermatologist.
When I was pregnant with Chase my skin went through some caaaa-razy changes. I stressed over each and every one at first, and then pretty much just started ignoring all of them. Ya know…skin tags, blotches..all that highly glamorous stuff women deal with while growing a human.
However there was one skin occurance that was worrisome to me. A small lesion appeared on my chest, right between the ladies. When I say small..I mean SMALL. It is completely flesh colored, and much easier to feel than see. Over the last two years it has gotten bigger, but is still very small. There are actually three very small lesions of the same type there now. This is an area that I had frequent sunburns as a kid.
I ignored it and ignored it because that’s what I do.I don’t like going to the doctor and I like it even less when something could actually be wrong. I try to keep my head from running to the worst possible scenario but it does anyway. Google is not helping the situation at all, and for someone prone to panic attacks this is really just setting me over the edge.
I am praying that Dr.Skin has an answer for me. I am hoping there is something that he can tell me before he chops off a piece of my skin to be biopsied. If I have to wait for results with no indication of what is going on, I might truly lose it. I really don’t have it in me to deal with this. I’m emotionally exhausted and I can’t stop thinking about it.
What if I let it go too long?
What if it is cancer?
What will I do?
So people, I am asking for something I have never asked for before. I never thought I would ever ask anyone to do this for me.
PRAY.
Pray it’s a wart.
14 Days!
We are moving in 2 weeks.
Um. Holy Shit.
Originally we were all set to move on the 15th of December. Would have been challenging, but possible. 2 weeks? Not even close to being in the realm of possible.
I have 5 days off until the 1st. 5! One of those being Thanksgiving, so you know my FattyPattiness will be spending that day stuffing myself with all the yummy food that my mother in law will make. NomNom. No amount of packing will keep me from diving head first into my plate of mashed potatoes and gravy, and pumpkin pie.
So that leaves 4 good packing/productive days off. I am so excited to move, I really like the new house we are renting and I think it will be great for the boys. I am just so overwhelmed by the amount there is to do.
Not only do all the closets need to be packed…but they need to be gone through. I’ve been spending my mornings convincing myself that it’s OK to be donating all the teeny tiny baby clothes. That it’s OK that I am getting rid of the nursery decorations and am redoing their new room. That it’s OK that I gave away the swing and jumperoo. That it’s OK that all my size 4 jeans are being donated because this mama’s hips will NEVER go back to where they were, regardless of how skinny I become.
That it’s OK for them to grow up…and maybe us too.
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