Guess only die hard fans of Grey’s Anatomy will get the title of this post, but even aside from the show…it’s a meaningful statement. The carousel NEVER stops turning. You can get ill, throw up, try to jump off, maybe you land injury free or die from a busted skull. That damned ride just keeps going, and until death, there is no escape. There is only holding on when you can, jumping off and hoping for the best when you can, and trying not to throw up on any children riding the same carousel. (Sue me for trying to inject a bit of humor into an otherwise humorless situation.)
The anxiety ninjas arrived today, about three dozen, swinging nunchuks and swords, coming at me from every direction. I’m trying to duck and cover and get in a few blows of my own but alas…Those ninjas are kicking my ass.
I always have anxiety before any shrink appointment, so I can’t say it was unexpected. The level of this particular ninja attack left me feeling overwhelmed, terrified, pounding heart, sweatiness, wooziness, nausea, headache…Yet my blood pressure was perfectly normal at the office.Inside, I swore I was having palpitations and the room was spinning and yet those damned numbers, the tangible proof society demands to prove you’re feeling what you are feeling, remained within the perfectly normal range. Talk about insult to injury. Even I start to question myself when the scientific data contradicts what I am personally experiencing.
For me, in my head space, it’s very real. It’s crippling, terrifying, neverending. The carousel ride from hell run at warp speed and that awful music blaring to the extent my eardrums shatter. But the scientific numbers remain normal so obviously…I will never be viewed as anything more than a malingerer.
One line in the sand I drew today when I finally got to see doc nurse was to explain to her that her constant clacking on the keyboard while talking to me was a big issue for me and surprisingly, she didn’t do it this time. I don’t know if I angered her because she is a trained professional, for all I know, under the smiles, she might have been plotting to have me labeled cured out of spite. (No, I don’t like the fact my brain goes to such a dark place automatically, but I guess when the dark stuff happens to you enough, it becomes ingrained to at least suspect it.)
She didn’t seem all that worried about the state I was in. Unwashed hair, couldn’t remember last time I showered, I sleep in 3 hour intervals, then can barely drag ass out of bed come morning. I left out all the stuff about the shop/R stress, figuring that would just get me another lecture about counseling or, worse, “But you are managing.” Being ambulatory and half competent is not managing, it is grasping at straws.
I am all for counseling EXCEPT for the one place in town that takes my insurance as their previous counselor screwed up my head worse and of course, R’s daughter is on staff there so she would have access to my records and has repeatedly shown an inability to respect privacy laws or show basic empathy for those with mental issues…With my pre-existing trust and panic issues, there is NO rational reason why anyone would want to risk their fragile mental state becoming fodder for this woman’s private conversations. (And it’s not a matter of maligning her, I have been witness to her lack of discretion and professionalism as she tells R stuff and he tells me, so the entire counseling program is compromised. To speak up about it, even anonymously, in this small town, would leave no doubt who and where the information came from, and that’s not merely burning a bridge, that’s setting an entire village on fire.) Suffice it to say, if the disability deities want me in counseling, they can feel free to expand coverage to a local counselor that hasn’t psychologically scarred me.
So anyway…Doc nurse had no answers about the anxiety except to blame situational (yeah, that’s some of it) and saying by taking my meds in the afternoon I am probably causing my own insomnia. I know this to have been debunked, however, as I used to take the meds in the morning and still had trouble getting to sleep at night and staying asleep. I’m not a know it al, I am not non compliant, I am simply experienced with trial and error of finding out the best way to take the meds. Maybe I can shift the Lamictal and Wellbutrin to morning, but the Trintellix is staying after a meal. That level of nausea is worse than anything lithium ever dished out.
She increased the Trintellix to 15mg, said see you in 4 weeks, or can I do anything else for you. I was dumbfounded by that last part, like I was at a convenience store. What did I forget to get a pack of smokes? Almost felt like a dismissal. But I suppose it’s typical. Anything short of saying you want to harm yourself or others is pretty much dismissed. There’s you pill, here’s a quarter, call someone who cares. (No one remembers that Travis Tritt song from the 80’s/90’s? I had to have a country song to assign to my dad as a ringtone, that one seemed fitting, cos hey, I don’t much care about your ranting…)
Ranting. I am the pot calling the kettle black. Ranting is all I seem to do. When I’m not busy rambling.
Anyway…back to the shop, took a Xanax (I needed her to see how strung out I was on the anxiety, if you go in all calm and collected, they dismiss you even more,so I didn’t take it beforehand), and now…I am supposed to blast some stereos to see if they will ‘act up’ but my noise tolerance today isn’t very high so I think I will watch Chicago Fire instead. I’ve waited 5 months basically to see how it turns out. Though the ‘will they live or die” thing likely isn’t good for my anxiety.
Just comes a point when the anxiety has robbed me of as much as I can allow it to. I can’t even get into this season of American Horror Story because it’s too realistic and terrifying. I look at this country and I see the hatred and sheeple mentality and it is become a cult, no clowns needed to terrify and repulse. Maybe in a few months I will be able to handle it. Not right now.
The anxiety has ruined Supernatural for me. Lucifer, too.
So, no, whatever shows I can work in without having a massive mental breakdown, I am gonna brave it even if I have to keep the volume down low or use the closed captioning to avoid the noise all together.
The anxiety ninjas may have beaten me down, but I’m still gonna get back up. Because that carousel never stops turning and on rare occasion, it’s a pleasant ride and I think that’s good enough reason to keep fighting.