It is so maddening. When I get one aspect of my spectrum of disorders in hand, there’s another one to step forward and demand its time in the spotlight of destroying my sanity. My mood is okay today in spite of all the crappy stuff yesterday.
But the PANIC…Oh panxiety is devouring me.
Today I have to venture out and learn if my car is saved or doomed. That car isn’t even mine, it’s my mom’s and I can’t buy another one and…It’s just setting off terror receptors akin to being chased by Leatherface.
That anxiety ties into rapid heartbeat, paranoia, and of course, pretzel gut and severe sensitivity to outside stimuli. (I want to cover my ears childishly to block my kid’s incessant mindless chatter.)
Then there’s the whole disability review lurking every moment of every day. I have resigned myself to the fact that I can’t do anything about it. I am at their mercy and I have a bad feeling in my gut. Not that I blame them. I’ve been waiting to be cured for over twenty years now. No one could be more frustrated by my start and stop progress and regression than I myself am. This is sooo not how I saw my life turning out. Not that I have it all that bad, mind you, outside the mental stuff. It’s just…I always considered myself this fierce strong woman who could conquer anything by willpower alone.
Then the depressions kept hitting until the fierceness was gone and it hit me. I am human, I have an illness, and I can’t do a damn thing but keep trying to get better even if it seems futile.
And Thursday is the new shrink. In person. Never met him before. I don’t know if he’s gonna be like the osteo shrink from hell (“Zoloft isn’t working because you don’t want it to work” or maybe he will be indifferent or will he be open like Dr Amazing was.
I am filled with dread and hope at the same time.
I can go in there with my list, explain myself but again…One more thing I can’t control. His predisposed biases, his psych philosophy and style, his ability to listen, willingness to take more than three minutes.
Just so much up in the air right now and I am out of control. It’s making pretzel gut a daily event.
I dread facing each day no matter how solid my mood and mind seem. Because the anxiety has stepped up and taken place of that aspect.
It hit me after months of the seasonal depression…We have about six solid months of warmth and sunshine ahead. This could be my prime time, I could bounce back. It could go either way.
Then I think, oh god, six months of shrieking children running loose because the parents can’t be bothered with them. Six months of kids in the streets with bicycles paying no attention to traffic. Six months of more traffic, more noise, more people out and about. All catalysts for the anxiety.
I hate the depressions but they are generally the more manageable anxiety period. Except the last winter, for whatever reason the anxiety went rampant. Hell, there were days I wouldn’t even take a Xanax. Then Bam, suddenly I need more than my prescribed dose to keep from going off the rails. And there was no trigger.
I get so sick of that part of the doctor stuff. They insist everything has a trigger and with me, it simply doesn’t. One day I will hear a car horn honk and it will set me the fuck off into paranoid anxiety land. Another day I will have 12 kids playing in my yard and it’s barely an annoyance.
I DON’T KNOW WHAT TRIGGERS IT BECAUSE THERE IS NO TRIGGER.
Oh, sure, the classics heighten and metastasize it.
But often..It’s ninja panic. Stealthy, sneaky, from out of nowhere.
I wish it would die in a fire.
So my gut is churning and I am dreading this entire week no matter how much I try to spew sunshine and rainbows. Positive thought is as good for mental illness as prayer is for fictional illness. It may help at times but for the most part…If I could talk myself out of feeling batshit crazy, I’d do it in a heartbeat.
The holding pattern is the worst. I just want to rip the bandage off, know one way or the other with most stuff. Is the car DOA? Is my livelihood being hacked away? Is the new doctor a douche?
It’s hell on the panxiety, feels like I am on autopilot waiting for all these answers and I am at the mercy of others to get them.
Not that I am Greenday fan but one line from “Basketcase” keeps pounding through my brain.
“Sometimes I give myself the creeps…Sometimes my mind plays tricks on me..It all keeps adding up..I think I’m cracking up…”