So these last couple of weeks have been super fun. By now you all should know my level of sarcasm has no limit. It certainly doesn’t this time. I’ll explain.
A couple of Thursdays ago after a lovely, very stressful day, I decided to pass out. Unintentionally of course. I had just finished eating and realized I couldn’t recall a single thing in my own head. It occurred to me that I needed to feed the dogs and then I couldn’t remember what I had just been thinking about. And then it hit. It felt like somebody had taken an ostrich egg and cracked it right into my skull. Not the outside, the inside. And as that egg traveled down to the floor, so did I.
Paramedics were called and I was told it was simply a massive anxiety attack, the kind of which I had never experienced before. It was absolutely terrifying. I could barely speak and when I could it felt like I was having to pull words up from the depths of the deepest ocean. My mind was all over the place and yet I couldn’t catch a single coherent thought. I couldn’t feel any of my limbs and I felt like I was shaking from the inside out. I felt like I was having a stroke, or at least what I would imagine a stroke would feel like.
Fast forward to the following Thursday. After only a couple of very minor attacks (for lack of better phrasing), Satan himself might as well have knocked me on my ass. After a few days in New Orleans, an effort to clear my head and relieve some of the pressure and stress I had been feeling, the worst attack I could never have imagined hit. Four and a half hours of being on and off the floor, in and out of bed, throwing up, and only having moments of clarity, and paramedics were called again. I would never wish this day on my worst enemy.
I now know what to look for and part of that is feeling fuzzy. My eyesight, my brain, my words. I start to slur and my speech pattern slows way down. I had been on the phone with my mom and had started to feel it then. By the time I hung up, my amazing friend that had traveled with me could hear it in my voice and said my eyes were vacant. She asked if I was ok right about the time it slammed in to me.
It has taken me damn near a week to recover as much as I have. The fact that I can sit here and write this is miraculous to me and as I write I find myself struggling to find words that have always come easily. When I try and speak to anyone, including family at times, I can hear my speech slur and slow down. I struggle and pause through most sentences.
I saw a doctor yesterday who has since prescribed me quite a bit of medication. From what I remember from our meeting, as I was so disoriented through most of it, my brain is revolting from stress and anxiety. It pretty much decides when it wants to work and when it doesn’t and on what level at that. It’s not actually a panic attack but it is anxiety manifesting this way.
Mornings seem to be better. At least until I try and be in public. I find that comedic movies help. Puzzles on my phone help. Exercise helps. Simple things like brushing my teeth, doing dishes or laundry, take me retraining myself on how to do them. I have to force my mind to focus and take deep breaths.
I have barely been in public at all this last week. I’ll feel good enough to try and then an hour in I realize I can no longer drive because I can’t see the lines on the road and stop lights start to confuse me.
This is all apparently just surface though. I need to start making some changes and some heavy ones at that. In dissecting my entire life with this psychiatrist we made some evaluations. The first and most important one being that even though I have at times considered myself to be incredibly selfish, I have been living my life in a way that pleases others more than myself. Whether its always allowing myself to be pulled in different directions, allowing manipulative people into my life who have swayed me and my decisions and my relationships, or even just social stigma, I have yet to really live for myself.
A part of me has always known this but turned a blind eye. Ironically enough I would go out to dinner or movies or for drinks with some of those same people or even by myself to try and feel better. What I should have been doing was getting to know myself. What do I want? If I could hand pick a life for myself what would I pick? I’ve always said the same thing. I just want to be happy.
I’ve always tried to live in a way that happiness wasn’t defined by things or jobs but by the people in your life, the memories you make and cherish. I see now that thats part of where I’ve gone wrong. The right people can make the difference, but in the world that I should have control over. Not the one I’ve just been coasting through.
I no longer just want to be happy. I now need to identify what THINGS would make me happy. And I have no idea where to start other than getting my health back. Feels like a catch twenty two. Especially since thinking with any sort of clarity is only now after a week, becoming attainable.
I don’t mean to say that I don’t have amazing people in my life. I do. I have truly had some amazing friends step up this last week and I don’t feel like I deserve it in some ways. Friends that have understood that I can’t communicate and don’t push. Ive also already had a couple show their true colors and I am so grateful they have. Makes this easier actually to identify the types that I need to avoid.
I have no idea if any of this even makes sense or even sounds cohesive because I can now barely see my screen or keyboard which means its time for bed and a whole slew of meds. Enough to kill a petting zoo according to a friend actually.
I am only just now turning 30. If you can relate to this in any sense, don’t do this to yourself. Get help before you start passing out. I’ve learned the floor will catch you, but its an awful long way back up to standing tall.