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My extra dose of anxiety meds this evening slides down my throat as my pulse races once again.
Panic waits nearby, always hovering, crackling on the edges of my nerves.
For the last few weeks…things have been, bad, in regards to my anxiety.
I’ve been trying to deal… and for the most part, have kept the panic attacks at bay for now. But it’s just a matter of time.
I know it’ll happen, just not when.
So, I prepare.
I use the exercise to wear myself out every night, pushing myself to exhaustion.
It’s not just to keep the dreams away.
If I’m worn to a nub, there’s no adrenaline to push through my system…and no fuel for the panic to feed off of.
And this time…I know why my nerves are frayed.
The rejection from the last one started the spiral.
But – it was spiked by E.
He refuses to leave me alone, even though I’ve told him I’m finished. That I’m moving on with my life without him. I told him that I was through being manipulated, used, left behind. And that he needed to leave me alone from here on out.
He’s refusing to hear me.
Multiple attempts to call, at least on two occasions, he tried to call me – and when I rejected his “private number” and “unknown caller” calls, he rang back immediately – 12 times each day.
I’ve blocked his number, email, texts, etc., but when you make your # “private”? It rings through anyway… It’s stalking. Harassment. Meant to intimidate and manipulate.
I refuse to answer.
But…it reminds me that he will not stop.
Not until he gets what he thinks he wants.
And that makes my anxiety shoot up.
It makes me want to – at the same time – run for the hills and hide… And face him down and smash his face, force him to leave me alone.
I’m so sick of people trying to tell me who they think I should be, what I should do, what I should think, or feel.
I know who I am.
I know my own feelings.
I know what’s right for me.
And I’ll be damned if I’ll ever fucking apologize for any of that, ever again.
Yes, there’s more than one reason for that last statement, and no E isn’t the only reason. I’m not ready to go into the rest of it, just yet.
I’m pissed off, anxious, depressed, lonely and fed up. All at the same time.
It’s not easy trying to deal with all of this, but I will. I talk to the Beloved Nephew, but he’s not here…he’s states away, so I ride this wave alone. So I deal – On my own, because that’s just the way it works. I don’t ask for help until I’m bleeding out.
You should know this by now.
The Pendulum Swings
Mom called in the morning while I was at work, & told me that Dad’s best friend had passed away. This man was someone I’ve known for practically my whole life. His daughter & I were best friends and nearly inseparable from kindergarten through 5th grade. (The following summer of 1981 we moved to ND)
He and his wife were like second parents to me, as I spent almost as much time at their house as I did my own.
But, he was also the father of the boy who molested me when I was a teenager.
After Mom told me of his passing, I attempted to go back to work at my desk, but couldn’t concentrate. My head felt heavy, & I could hear a buzzing, ringing, in my ears as everything else around me started to fade out.
Then, the panic attack began.
I told my supervisor I had to go home, & bolted from the office before I went into full-meltdown mode. I didn’t want them to see me like that, couldn’t let them see me like that.
It was my worst panic attack yet, save one I had while separated from my first ex (whole other story).
Tears rolled down my face the whole drive home, but I held my shit together till I got in my front door.
Then – game over.
If you’ve never had a real, full-blown panic attack…you have no idea how frightening one is. I hope you never have to experience it, because it’s…well…I’ll try to describe it.
As soon as my front door closed, the trembling started. I’m not talking about just “feeling shaky”. I’m talking – my whole body went into earthquake mode. Someone just watching would have probably thought I was having a seizure, or that I’d just gotten out of ice-cold water, I shook so violently. I had to sit to take my shoes off, & struggled with the zippers because I couldn’t keep my fingers still long enough to grasp them.
The cold set in. My house is generally warm, as I can’t abide being cold. I usually have the heat set at 76. But, yesterday, I couldn’t get warm. I wrapped one of my fleece blankets around me as I stumbled through the house to the fridge for my water, & it still wasn’t enough to warm me up. It took 2 blankets & my 2 cats (curled up with me in the chair) to finally warm me.
After taking another dose of my anti-anxiety meds to try to quell the panic attack, it went to the next level. Hyperventilating.
I almost blacked out, so it’s a good thing I was already in my chair when this hit. It dragged on for what seemed like forever, swinging between hyperventilating & hitching sobs. Coupled with the shaking trembles, it most likely would have looked like a grand mal seizure.
Finally, the meds started to kick in, after interminable seeming hours, and I started to calm. It was most likely just a handful of minutes, but time stretches out unceasingly when in a panic attack, your brain screams fight or flight!! And there seems to be no end, no exit, no rescue.
And when you’re dealing with this alone, with no one there to comfort you, there’s no surcease of the pain until your body, quite literally, shuts down. The adrenaline of the attack does eventually run out. It has to.
But when you’re panicking, it doesn’t feel that way.
When you’re in PA mode, all you know, all you see, is the black, horrific, panic. It’s a heart attack, stroke, earthquake, flood & mental apocalypse, all rolled inside of your head & body.
It, quite literally, feels like the end, while you’re in it. Logic has no place there. None. It’s not a matter of “just breathe, you’ll be fine”.
You can’t “just breathe”, when every breath has to be fought for.
You can’t “just calm down”, when your heart is racing so fast you feel like a jet engine is going to bust through your chest.
For me, tunnel vision set in, & all I could see was whatever was directly in front of my eyes, but my brain wasn’t truly processing even that. It was in overload.
Once the attack finally crested, & I started to come down, it was like falling off a cliff.
I slept, weighted under 2 blankets & 2 cats, it was more like falling into a coma, in that I didn’t dream at all. It was just – black sleep.
Today, I am out of PA mode. My anxiety is still very high, but I’m watching it. Keeping quiet, avoiding going out, & taking meds as needed.
For those of you who do have anxiety & have experienced PA, you know the aftercare, & what I’ve been through. I know another attack could happen, so I’m being careful. Doing all the things I do to relax, soothe & comfort. Reading, to keep my brain occupied on something other than the situation. Wearing my comfort clothes to feel good against my skin. Burning candles and/or incense as needed to use aromatherapy to soothe. Staying away from caffeine, as that can trigger another attack while in heightened stress moments.
And blogging. This helps me, almost as much as the meds. Because this is my emotional outlet, my “scream into the black” of the internet. My way of getting the words out of my head, onto the “page”, & away from my emotional distress.
The worst has passed, and I’m still here…but the pendulum swings. And the moments are tentative & tenderly susceptible to another PA. Hang on, we’re not out of the woods entirely, yet.
Anxiety has been so bad tonight. It’s been bad for the last couple of weeks.
But not to look at me.
If you just look, I am normal – smiling, joking, & getting along, doing my work, handling my business…
This is the face of anxiety.
Take another look at the eyes.
Take a good look.
There’s tension there.
There’s a twitch, just there in the corner of one eye, constantly fluttering.
There’s a tightness around the eyes, pulling at the edges, headache darting between the brows.
The smile looks almost real, though, doesn’t it?
Slightly wilted, tired, resigned.
But it fools the masses.
And makes sure that no one notices the trembles.
The hint of vibration that never leaves.
My body is wound so tightly I feel like an over-tuned violin, ready to snap as soon as the bow draws across it the first time.
And this – is the face after the crash.
The face that no one sees.
The worry drawn tight over the brow.
The grief and guilt filling in the mouth.
The resignation that smears the vision.
Knowing it’s just a matter of time before the other shoe drops.
Nobody gets to see this face if I can help it.
It shatters the illusion that everything works. That I’m Ok, all lights green across the board, engines full and running at capacity.
This is the face after the mask comes off.
I’m tired of hiding, of pretending. I’m tired of everyone thinking that anxiety is just a random worry.
It’s real, it’s painful, it’s constant & it’s not something I can be rid of just by “calming down”.
I take medication every day to control the worst of it, or I probably wouldn’t be able to function.
This- is my reality.
It’s not the whole of who I am.
But it is real.
And that’s what I’m here, blogging for.
To be in one place where I can be real.
My nephew and I talk honestly to each other all the time. We don’t pull our words back, because we don’t have to.
But there are times when I need to see the words in front of me, splayed out like a bloody corpse, flayed, raw & bleeding all over the page.
Therapy at it’s deepest level.
Minus the shiny buckles on the strapped jacket.