Tag: Anxiety

The Spider

Yesterday I had a panic attack. I haven’t had one in a while so I didn’t recognize it. It was brought on by a black spider that crawled across my arm and hand while I was lying down.

After I brushed it off me, I had a few moments of worry because I could t find it anywhere in my room. Finally it came out from my clothes and fell on the floor.

In the aftermath, I couldn’t do anything. I sat on my bed mindlessly scrolling the net. I had heart palpitations and ramped up feelings of anxiety. I couldn’t breathe or calm down.

I couldn’t even relax on my bed due to the fear that the now dead spider was going to come back somehow or another one would race across my body again. It was debilitating.

I kept thinking someone magically sent the spider to terrorize me or scare me. And that the spider was somehow purposely out to get me. It wasn’t until I actively told myself “you”re not afraid anymore…” repeatedly that I started to calm down.

That hasn’t happened in a while.

But at least I could think myself out of it eventually. This is progress

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Narcolepsy

Photo by Karolina Grabowska on Pexels.com

I feel like I just can’t wake up. I’ve been sleeping for 3-4 days on and off and it isn’t helping. My moods are stable, so I’m sure this isn’t bipolar depression. I actually feel pretty happy.

When it gets like this, my anxiety ramps up. Not because I’m sad about things, but because I’m anxious about my sleep. My dr tells me to take 2-3 naps per day. But at times like this, I’m sure I’d take 5 if the daytime hours allowed it. I feel like I could sleep forever.

I’ve tried everything. Coffee, soda, tea, meditation, etc. So far, those have had minimal to no effect. It feels like I’m being pulled under, underneath a wave of covers, or water. I can’t breathe and I’m drowning in tiredness. This feeling is so uncomfortable.

My narcolepsy comes with excessive daytime sleepiness, sudden sleep attacks, and prolonged lethargy. No matter what I do, these symptoms are ever present. These days, my narcolepsy isn’t well controlled. It reminds me of when I was in high school and college. My mom used to prevent me from going to my room before 8pm. Little did we know, she was working on my sleep hygiene. This still didn’t help. Much like my current situation. Regardless of what I do at night, I wake up feeling ambushed and exhausted.

I’m working on sleeping with ambient noise to see if that helps. Too much light keeps me awake and too much noise makes me agitated. It’s a balancing act to get the right environment for my rest. This is an extreme sport almost. Only, I’m not enjoying participating.

Narcolepsy robs me of so much. My energy is sapped, my mind is fogged, and my limbs are heavy. It’s a struggle for me to even take a walk around the block. If I’m not careful, I can slip into a mixed state or even psychotic depression because of my sleep issues. This is a major predicament.

One thing that does help is communication with my support system and letting people know when I’m overly tired. I may ask for nutritional advice or even just company so that I don’t sleep all day. Occasionally I’ll have to ask people to help me get sleep, but that’s when the urge to rest is overwhelming. Lately, I’ve had to do this. And it makes me sad.

I never wonder why this happened to me, but I do want to know how to address it. I feel like I’m missing out on life by sleeping this much. I’m missing my kids, and my friends and family too.

Another thing that may work is getting a nutritionist or a registered dietitian for my eating disorders. That way, I’m supporting my body with wellness and not illness.

I feel much better sitting up. But these days I’m horizontal more than vertical. I wish, per my body, to sleep 24/7. But I know that doesn’t make things better. The last few days, I’ve forced myself to go outside. I made myself walk to the end of the street and back. It didn’t stop the narcolepsy attacks but I did feel more focused and alert. At least for a short period of time.

In college, I didn’t have the words to tell people I was struggling. So I suffered and lost many opportunities. Now I’m glad I can tell people how I feel. And I’m grateful that they understand my issues. No longer do I feel ostracized or embarrassed. I know that if I need it, people are there to help me through this. It’s been a long road but I’m happy to be moving forward. And I’m happy to be getting the assistance I need with this challenging situation.

Allah is merciful. Time can make this better. And what a ride it’s been.

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Rumination: My Brain on Love After Divorce

To feel like you’ll never be in love again (even though it’s not necessarily true) is a crushing feeling. It’s an intrusive thought. It’s your OCD ruining things. It’s rumination trying to take over where you paroxetine leaves off.

At night, when I’m at my loneliest, my brain tells me I’m unworthy of romantic love. It taunts me and says I’m ugly, fat, undesirable, etc. I try to ignore these cruel and unrelenting thoughts, but it isn’t easy. The silence is even worse. It’s so deafening. I have to press my hands to my ears to block out the sounds of the voices telling me I’ll never get another chance at warmth and happiness. Sometimes I make counter noises and sing loudly, just to drown out the negative stuff. I want to talk back to the voices. I want to tell them I’m a good person.

My intrusive thoughts keep me up at night. Though it’s gotten much better, I still struggle with the feeling that I won’t feel love ever again. I have doubts about my current reality. Does anyone care about me? Do people know I’m alive? Will I die alone? Am I loved by Allah and His creation? Have I slipped into obscurity? What if I never meet The One?

If you’ve always lived with your significant other then these intrusive thoughts will seem foreign to you. OCD itself will seem like something ‘other’ as well. It’s hard to imagine the loneliness of living by oneself with psychosis and psychological trauma. With disorders that rob you of your sanity.

When you add loss of love to the mix, it gets even more complicated. I try to remain upbeat and keep myself occupied. I tell myself that whatever happens, I’ll be alright.

I’ve learned how to weather the loneliness at night and how to keep my brain occupied even when I sleep. And my medications are working better these days, thankfully. Will I ever find romantic love again is a question for God, and not for me. But I’m anxiously awaiting the answer. Until then, I sit in silence in the dark and tackle my rumination alone.

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Getting Med Refills Each Month as a Disabled Person

As a patient living with multiple chronic, mental and physical illnesses, it can be a challenge to receive your medication on time each month. One issue faced by people is how the doctor chooses to fill the prescription; monthly or every 90 days. Each option means you have to keep track of your meds and remember when you last filled them so you can keep up with the script schedule.

Another issue you may face is wait times at the pharmacy. Due to covid and distancing procedures, getting your meds can take twice as long as it did in the past. And even calling your pharmacy on the phone can be a daunting task. Pharmacy staff is often overwhelmed by customers in person and on phone lines which causes everyone to wait longer. It’s understandable, but frustrating.

Some doctors choose to e-file your scripts while others still rely on giving patients hard copies of their hand written prescriptions. This causes more lag time for patients and ultimately ends up in longer wait times at the pharmacy. The goal should be to minimize stress for those who are already dealing with a lot, not to bog them down in minutiae and red tape.

Those patients who take multiple medications often need pill minders and med calendars to help monitor their monthly intake of medicines. Otherwise it can get confusing as to what they’ve taken and when. One tip given by a local pharmacist is to keep your empty pill bottles each month (in a safe case) so you have the dates when last filled and any necessary med information needed in order to remind yourself when to next fill the scripts.

Do you have challenges filling your meds each month? You can always ask questions, at the pharmacy, at your doctor’s office, and whenever you feel you need more information. Getting your medicine shouldn’t be confusing. It should be a smooth process and one which facilitates part of your medical care.

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Bipolar Disorder and Menopause

I’ve had bipolar disorder for as long as I can remember. But only recently did I start experiencing the symptoms of menopause; early menopause, in fact. I’m learning how to manage the two together, and let me tell you, it isn’t easy.

Bipolar is an illness which makes it harder for you to tolerate stress. And also stress brings on the symptoms of bipolar disorder. It’s such a conundrum. Being menopausal is a stressful situation. Your body is changing, you are experiencing fluctuating hormones and moods, and you’re having hot flashes.

All of this can make you susceptible to a manic, depressive or mixed episode, which you have to address in addition to the menopause symptoms. It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.

One thing that’s helping me is to chart my symptoms and notice which condition they correspond to. I note my meds and how I’m taking them and also my sleep patterns. It’s a lot of work. The things that have changed the most are my appetite and my sleep. I’m either ravenous or not interested in eating at all. And I’m not sleeping well.

Menopause keeps me tossing and turning all night long. This is disastrous for me because for me because it’s adding to my anxiety and mania. I can’t seem to get a handle on the elevated moods because I can’t sleep. Sometimes I’ll go two days without resting. I’m both exhausted and wired.

What I’ve decided to do is roll with the punches and not fight my body. It’s tempting to try and actively manage this, however I’m willing myself to just relax. It’s similar to what I do with my ocd and intrusive thoughts. In the same way I don’t fight against my ruminating brain, I don’t force myself into recovery mode. Slowly, things are easing up, and lately I’ve been able to catch a few naps here and there.

Meditation is another coping skill I’m learning to use. I’m checking in with myself more often and learning how to access mindfulness techniques. This helps me to sit with confusing feelings and negative ideas. I notice this is effective for my suicidal ideation too. Ideation which is seeming to subside these days.

One positive thing about experiencing menopause at 46 is that I feel more confident and sure of myself. I’m used to weathering my ever changing brain, and somehow adding aging issues to the mix makes me feel more empowered. I believe it’s because I’m doing this as a single parent. I’m realizing how capable I truly am.

Bipolar and menopause are a fiery mix. Though things are up and down with my moods, overall, this challenge has been a great learning experience. I wouldn’t change anything, well, except for getting more sleep. But I guess we could all use that.

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Recovery from gaslighting and emotional abuse

I never believe anything anyone says anymore. To me everything is a lie or a trick. It’s at my expense. This is what my brain tells me every day. “They hate you!” “This is just like last time!?” “Remember you fell for this before” “That couldn’t be true”…

It’s exhausting. Sometimes I find myself talking out loud to the negativity. “Don’t listen!” “You’re a good person” “La la la la” the last one said with my fingers shoved in my ears.

Yes Eventually this becomes a self fulfilling prophecy. If you react to negativity in a strange way, people will indeed hate you. So my paranoia seems to be justified.

I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t like this. On edge, hypervigilant, irritated, and waiting for the other shoe to drop. But I can’t take much more of the tension, I need a healthier way to deal with brain stress.

So far, I’ve only identified the problem: gaslighting and trauma. Emotional abuse as well. But I haven’t started healing yet because I don’t know where to begin. I don’t know how to let down my guard and trust people.

I’ve decided I don’t want to be reactive any longer because it’s so harmful. I think the best way to create new habits is to create a ptsd plan for emergencies. Once a dr told me to make note cards with sample responses to my stressors. And to keep them with me at all times as a reminder.

I’m realizing I can do this and feel empowered. This removes the fear factor in my mind. I don’t even have to take the cards out and look at them. Just knowing I have a plan and that I’m not unprepared makes me feel better.

The only way I’ll be able to trust again is to try. I have to step out on faith and hope for the best. Healing from emotional abuse takes work and time. I’m willing to put in both to make things better.

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Disability and Mental Illness

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I began thinking about applying for disability in 2012. I had lost my job after a bad manic episode. At that time my mom was battling inflammatory breast cancer as well, and my children had just returned from a four year stay in Senegal with their father’s family. Stressed out doesn’t even come close to my mental state at the time. I simply couldn’t work under those conditions. I couldn’t even get off my couch or take care of myself in any capacity. I had no concept of functional self-care in any sense and I was barely lucid. After my mom passed away in early 2013, I became completely unstable. I went into a psychotic depression, sleeping off and on for several months. I was paranoid and delusional. I lashed out at those around me, accusing them of the worst things imaginable. My behavior was almost unrecognizable, and yet no one suggested I go to the hospital or even to my psychiatrist to get evaluated. They just lectured me to get myself together and stop acting out. Days merged into nights and I never knew what time it was or even the month. I developed bronchitis and then pneumonia but I still never left my house. I was too psychologically unwell. My primary care doctor was able to get antibiotics to my house as she knew I’d never make it to the emergency room for treatment.

At some point that winter, I finally decided to contact an attorney to help me file the paperwork for my disability claim because I knew I couldn’t complete it on my own. I remember telling the clerk I felt so poorly that if someone offered me a salary to simply staple papers all day, I’d have to decline because I didn’t have the energy to operate the stapler. I just couldn’t do anything productive. Even breathing was painful. I wanted to die. It took me 2 long years before I was able to get a hearing with a disability judge. My case was denied twice before that time. It was decided that I was sick, but not sick enough for disability. So I wanted to plead my case in front of a judge to see what would happen. On the day of my hearing, I was extremely nervous. Someone offered me a ride to the courthouse, because by this time I had stopped driving. I didn’t live on my own anymore either; I was staying with a family friend until I got back on my feet. Losing my mom took everything out of me. I was a shell of a person. Going to the courthouse was scarier than I thought it would be. My social anxiety was raging that day.

When it was my turn to go into the courtroom, my knees turned to jelly. I thought I was going to be sick. My attorney escorted me into the large room and showed me to the table where I would sit for the next hour. There were several people in the room already: The judge, the court reporter, a spectator/another disability lawyer, someone reviewing my case, and then my attorney. It was overwhelming and frightening. I felt like I was on display and I immediately wanted to run from the room screaming. But I couldn’t. I felt trapped. I sat at the table and shakily poured myself a glass of water. But I was too nervous to drink it. My attorney sat at an adjacent table. The judge introduced herself and explained why we were all there. She tried to put me at ease but it only made my anxiety worse. She asked me to begin telling my story and explain how I had come to be hampered by my mental illness. She wanted me to recount what had gone on for the last two years. But what scared me was that she had my medical records in front of her. How could I possibly remember all of that? I started talking and began stuttering right away. I do that when I’m nervous. Everybody in the room looked at me, puzzled. That made me more anxious and I continued stammering. I couldn’t stop. It was hard for me to put together a coherent sentence. My attorney looked so confused. Just a few minutes ago I was speaking clearly and without stuttering. I could tell she didn’t know what had happened and if I was faking my stutter. I was so embarrassed, but I had to keep talking. It was excruciating. My face was so hot, I thought it would explode. It felt like I was talking for hours.  When I was done, the judge asked me a bunch of questions. I felt defensive and angry. If my medical history was right there, why was I being cross examined? It made me feel like a criminal. I was sad and humiliated. Everybody in the room could hear my most personal medical details; the worst parts of my disorder and what it had done to me. I’ve never been so ashamed in my life. I knew the judge wasn’t trying to hurt me and yet I felt demoralized by her pointed questions. All this in order to determine if my mental illness was in fact debilitating and disabling. This wasn’t fun at all. When it was finally over, she concluded that my medical records supported what I had testified to and that she would make a ruling in about 6 weeks. My attorney said that was a positive sign that things had gone in our favor.

In the end, I was declared fully disabled and entitled to benefits. But the point of my story is that when I hear people speak disparagingly about those receiving help from the state, it traumatizes me all over again. That was one of the worst experiences of my life. It was bad enough to have to live like that for those years. In a fog of complete mental instability and confusion. But then to have to recount it in a room full of people as though I was on trial was something that hurt in a way I can’t explain. I don’t mind being disabled by my mental illness. But when I think about that day, I hate my disorder and what it’s done to my life. I hate that I had to tell a group of people about my illness in that way because it isn’t readily visible and obvious. That’s what hurts and shames me. And that’s what I resent about the disability process.

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Vulnerability

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I was feeling vulnerable. I was feeling less than pretty. I was feeling old and worn, discarded by society somehow. I needed validation in that moment. I needed acceptance and maybe a bit of ego stroking. I’m human too, after all. But I was rebuffed. I was brushed aside like my feelings don’t even matter. That really hurt. I didn’t say anything though. I never do in those situations. I don’t feel comfortable expressing when I’m feeling like I need more from people. I’m embarrassed to be so complicated. And it hurts that being ignored makes me feel so deeply wounded and unaccepted. I hate this about myself. It makes me feel so exposed and raw. So easily able to be dragged over the coals of indifference at a moments notice. So I just sat there, in the dark, in my house. And pretended everything was fine. I laughed and joked like I wasn’t dying inside. As if I didn’t want to retreat to my inner most feelings cave and never come out. I willed myself not to simply disappear. I’m still fighting the urge. Part of me wants to write and get my feelings out, and part of me wants to run and hide in a dark corner where no one can ever find me. I want to hide in shame because I hate that I need validation from others at times. I desperately want this to change. And quickly so I never have to feel this way again. So I’m never having to force myself not to walk away from the world when I don’t get what I need. Being vulnerable like this feels like a curse.

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Loneliness and Isolation

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Nobody really understands loneliness. At least that’s how I feel. And it’s probably different for each person. For me loneliness is like a sudden vacuum of feelings and emotions. Like the wind has been knocked out of me and I can’t breathe. It’s as if the world is spinning without me and I’m watching from inside my little bubble. I can see people going about their daily lives and routines, but I can’t join in. And that hurts more than anyone can imagine. I feel all alone in this world. Like if I were to die today, that no one would notice or miss a beat. And the pain of that realization is so crushing that sometimes I can’t stand it. People say to reach out when I’m feeling like this and to let others know I’m struggling. But that’s just it. I can’t. I can’t tell anyone how badly I’m hurting inside. I feel like I’m stuck behind a glass wall. I’m pounding on that wall with my fists, screaming to be let out, begging to be noticed. But nobody notices. Everyone just keeps walking right on by.

Everything makes my loneliness worse. Not having a family of my own, being single, living with roommates who are never home, having friends who are always busy, etc. I feel like I live on this planet alone sometimes. It’s one of the reasons I spend a lot of time on social media these days. In addition to receiving many jobs through my media outlets, I try to stave off feelings of loneliness by talking with online friends during the day. Anything to forget I don’t have what I want or need in real life to keep me occupied or engaged. Even when I do interact with people in real life, I feel this soul crushing loneliness. It is so painful. I could be in a room full of people and suddenly feel like bursting into tears. Even when I’m engaging in a conversation, in the back of my mind I’m thinking, “None of these people really understands me”. I hate that feeling. I know it may not be true. But I can’t help feeling that way. And I don’t know how to overcome it. I was thinking to join a group in my area for people who suffer from being isolated. Maybe that will help me get out of my shell and help me interact with others who are in a similar situation. I do know that people truly understand. But anxiety tells me I’m the only one feeling this way, which forces me to stay closed off.

I don’t want to wallow in my loneliness. I’ve listened to therapists who explain how to overcome this and how to feel better. And I know I’m not the only one. So I will put my best foot forward and try to reach out when I’m feeling lonely and isolated. It’s going to take so much work, but I don’t want to feel like this forever. Loneliness is the monster that has been seeking to destroy me for so long. I am determined not to let him win. It’ll be the fight of my life, but hopefully I’m up for the challenge.

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A letter to my friend mental illness

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Dear BP,

Hi, how are you? How have you been? I’ll admit I’m a little nervous writing to you because I don’t want you to think I’m asking to see you. And I don’t want you to think about me and decide to visit. I’m just not ready to be around you. But I did want to check in with you since you’ve been relatively quiet lately. If you recall, it’s been about six months since we spoke. Well formally anyway. I see your posts online from time to time but I never comment. I think we were last together at the hospital, right? That particular stay was a doozy! I hope I never go back. Remember that one girl who kept attacking everybody and calling us names? That was so wild.

So Ziprasidone and I are pretty friendly these days. I know how you guys feel about him, which is also why I’m staying away. But he’s good for me. I do miss our old friends though. How’s Elevated Mood doing? I hear she might be coming to town soon. I know she always heads this way in the spring for an extended visit. Ooh, maybe she’ll get to see the cherry blossoms this time. Tell her I said ‘hi’ if you talk to her. Out of everybody, I miss her the most. She can be a lot to take, but she doesn’t mean any harm. She just has a ton of energy. We always have fun when we’re with each other. I wouldn’t mind getting together with her for old time’s sake.

Hey, you know who I’ve been thinking about? Impulsivity. Man, we used to get into so much trouble back in the day! I’m so glad I’ve learned to love him from afar. But sometimes I like to reminisce about the things we used to do. If nothing else, to remind me what life used to be like before my health got better. Do you remember when he and I went to get matching tattoos? Goodness, it was like we couldn’t help ourselves. We just had to do it and nothing would deter us. I was shaking so much in the chair from all my nervous energy that the tattoo artist got upset. He said if I couldn’t sit still, he wouldn’t continue. Imp just laughed at me.

Afterwards I felt so ridiculous. And by then, Imp was nowhere to be found, as usual. I was embarrassed I’d let him talk me into getting the tattoo. What bothers me is I’m not even supposed to have those. It’s against my religion. But as soon as Imp started hyping up the idea, I couldn’t say no. And it came up out of the blue, so suddenly too. We didn’t think about the consequences or wonder if we’d regret doing it. This didn’t occur to either of us. All that mattered was getting that ink. To be honest, we’d been hanging out with that guy Compulsion too often back then, and we let him influence our choices. I think both Imp and I are pretty suggestible, if you ask me.

Oh my gosh, do you know what I did the other day? I decided to create a gratitude journal to remind myself of all the good things in my life that I’m grateful for. Oh BP, it’s been such a help. Every day I write about the things that make me happy and what I appreciate. You know they always taught us to do this whenever we’d go to the hospital. Well I finally got around to it. You should try it sometime. You’d love it!  And maybe it will give you a better outlook on life.

Guess who I’ve been chatting with lately? Insomnia! Can you believe it? I know we used to hate each other. But we’ve since reconciled and we’re spending almost every night together. We laugh and carry on like two little old ladies. Her jokes about not sleeping are too funny. And she still loves to play pranks on me in the middle of the night, as much as she always did. That Insomnia is such a card! We really have to stop meeting up though, or I’ll get sick again. You know how that goes.

So I have to know, how’s BPD doing these days? Do you see her often? Has she gotten herself together yet? Last I heard she was ruining yet another relationship. I’m sorry to say it but I hope I never interact with her again. She and I do not get along. She makes me so mad, I can’t stand it. And we always bring out the worst in each other. It’s always all or nothing with us. Things are either great or horrible. There is no in between, it’s awful. She’s just not a good influence for me so I try to avoid her at all costs. And if you remember, I had to go to therapy partly because of her. I’m still salty about that. I’m not trying to shift blame or anything, but I can’t help thinking that if I’d never met her, my life would’ve been much less stressful and anxiety ridden.

Speaking of my cousin Anx, did you hear she had a baby? Yeah, she named her OCD. I’m not one to criticize name choices, but OCD? Ok, I have so many questions. Don’t tell my cuz 😉 But why that name? What does it even mean? That kid’s going to have a tough time in life with a name like that. Why OCD? Is it a family name? Is it symbolic in some way? I keep saying it over and over, letting it roll around on my tongue so I can get used to it. It just makes me feel so prickly inside when I say it. But I can’t stop. I’ve repeated it about 500 times now. OCD. OCD. Nope, I still can’t get used to it. It sounds strange in my head, like an echo and a hollow tinny sound all at the same time. Oh wait; I’m getting fixated again. Don’t mind me. You know I do this sometimes. It’s gotten better, but I still slip now and then. My brother Buspirone has been helping me overcome it. He’s been such a blessing. He has his moments, like everybody, but overall I’ve loved having him around. I wish I had told him sooner that I needed his help.

You know, Depression has been on my mind a lot lately. I can’t help thinking about him and wondering if he’ll ever get better. He just seems so lost sometimes. It’s like he lives in his own dark world where no one can reach him. I feel so badly for him. He brings everyone down with his misery, negative outlook and detachment, and he doesn’t even realize it. He’s a good guy, just misunderstood I think.

I guess you heard that Anger and I made up a few weeks ago. We decided to part ways for good, but in doing so I think we’ve reached an understanding. I’m so happy about it. I think he realized how he much he was hurting me and knew why we couldn’t see each other anymore. It’s really for the best. I sometimes get scared that I won’t find anybody else, but I’m trying to be patient. I don’t want to go back to him just because I’m lonely. It’s hard though. Being alone I mean. I can’t shake the fact that I’ll die by myself, with nobody there to notice. That thought bothers me all the time. People say ‘just be positive’. But even in doing so, I haven’t found anybody else that understood me like Ang did. A friend of mine always counsels me to accept things as they are and to look forward to better times. You know that girl Patience? The one everybody always talks about? Well she’s his best friend. I guess that’s why he’s always so calm and collected. Maybe I should meet her someday. She sounds lovely.

I’m not even going to ask about Grandiosity. He annoys me to no end. Always thinking he’s better than everybody and deciding he can do whatever he wants. He seems to think the world revolves around him. That guy is so obnoxious. And he makes me look bad when he’s around. I get sucked into his schemes and plans, and I forget who I am. But his presence is so intoxicating. You know how he is; charismatic and charming…until he completely alienates everybody with his over inflated sense of self. I’m sure I’ll run into him again soon. It’s inevitable.

Oh wow, I just realized this whole letter has been one big gossip session. Hey, maybe we both needed that. Anyway, I hope you’re doing well, BP. I don’t hate you or anything, but I need some space. I hope you can accept that. I know we’ll always be in each other’s lives. I just think it’s best if we limit our time together. Take care of yourself.

Love,

Karen

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