I have anxiety issues.
Which is not much in itself, but after Nan died, my anxiety spiralled to the point where I’m anxious or stressed for most of the day. I have panic attacks and they’re getting worse. If Nathan goes out to get milk, I watch the clock and panic if he takes longer than he should. Worst case scenarios run through my brain most of the time.
And really, I’ve always been a little obsessed with the macabre and the broken, but this is ridiculous you know?
I don’t talk about these things, with anyone really, except to mention them in an understated way. Who wants to hear about how the inside of my head is all fucked up? Plus, my body is so fucked up that talking about any of it threatens to drown me with just how shit it all is. Not letting anyone pity me is my lifeline to not pitying myself and falling apart.
Since Nan died I’ve stopped talking. I used to be able to talk about whatever was bothering me, but now, I’m repressing everything. Every.Thing. Which is annoying in itself, because the sensible part of my head tells me that talking about the issues would make them only half as annoying, but it seems to stick in my throat. I talk to myself inside my head, but I can’t make my mouth form the words. I have panic attacks and breathe through them, not letting anyone see that they’re happening. Or I hide, in the toilet, in my bedroom, in front of the computer. They pass and I resurface.
It could be part of grieving, or, I suspect, the grieving has made it easier to repress everything. I don’t have time to fall apart. I pull myself together and go on coping and inside, something is curling up and dying because I can’t acknowledge just how badly I’m doing.
Fake it until you make it, isn’t that what they say?
Case in point:
There is an abandoned house at the end of my street, about 400m away that I want to photograph (again). I live in a tiny country town, on a large highway. I can see the fucking house from my lounge room window, but do you think I can make myself leave the house with my camera and walk up there?
No. I can’t.
I can’t bring myself to leave the house alone and walk, 400 fucking metres away to take a photo. If Nathan stood outside he’d be able to see me the whole time and I cannot do it.
When Amy was a baby, I used to walk into Hobart regularly. I lived about 40 minutes walk from the city and I would just walk. To the supermarket, to the Reserve, to my mothers group. I would walk, everywhere.
Now, I struggle to leave the house and I absolutely can’t go anywhere by myself.
And it’s stupid, it’s really stupid. It’s the little things like having a panic attack because I’m outside alone at 8pm in the dark photographing the sky. ON MY OWN PROPERTY. It’s not like I live anywhere dangerous.
It feels like I’m at the bottom of a well, with the walls closing in on me, telling myself how fucking stupid I was to get in here in the first place and why don’t I just climb out? But I can’t.
I went to a rheumatologist yesterday and left feeling good about the appointment. She’s worked out a new pain management regime for me, including something to help me sleep. Something that in a larger dose, works as an anti-depressant. And all I felt was relieved because now, maybe the anxiety induced insomnia will ease and at the very least, I might be able to sleep.
Last night, I fell apart. Everything culminated and I sobbed for hours. Nathan didn’t know what was wrong because I couldn’t tell him and honestly, after 12 months, it feels stupid to be falling apart because I miss my grandmother. I know it isn’t stupid, but it feels it you know? Like there is a set time for grieving and then we’re meant to be okay. Nathan ended up falling asleep and I sobbed more because dammit, can’t you read my mind?
And funny, I don’t feel any better today. I just feel heavy and tired and sad.
As I sat in the dark silently screaming and letting myself feel the pain that the grief brings, I contemplated running a bath, or going for a walk. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it, because I’m fairly sure if I’d laid in a bath, I would have slipped under the water and not been able to surface and the thought of walking, even around my property in the dark triggered another panic attack. The dark parts of the night are funny like that.
Instead, I kicked Nathan because he was snoring too loudly and went and snuggled my sleeping daughter for a while.
So this is me, writing about it.
I’m not coping.
I’m sad and heavy and broken.
I’m stressed and snappy and probably damn unpleasant to live with.
My panic attacks are getting crippling.
I can’t talk about it at all, out loud, but I’m hoping that I can write about it – and the people who matter most all read my blog anyway, so I won’t have to talk about it.
And at the very least, the new pain management regime will help with the peripheral issues and make me feel less like I’m only holding onto my sanity by my fingertips.
It’s been 52 weeks since Nan died, exactly 12 months tomorrow and I think I’m falling apart. I think I’m going insane.
Note: I’m going to give the new painkillers and stuff a go for a month. If I’m still not sleeping/falling apart/having panic attacks, I’ll go and see my GP to talk about it. So please, don’t worry about me too much!
Oh honey, I don’t know what to say. I’m here if you wanna talk. Or bitch whine moan. Okay?Loads of hugs.xoxo
Sweetheart, you give those pills ONE week to do their stuff and if they don’t, you go to the doctor again – and again if necessary until you start to heal! Yes this is part of the grieving process but not all of your problems are related to Nan’s death. You will deal more easily with the physical stuff if your mind is at peace with itself and lets you rest. By writing this down you have come a long way. Now print it out and show your doctors and let them help you. I think Nan would be giving you one big telling off right about now for neglecting your inner being.
Sending you big hugs, unfortunately that’s all I can do from here.
Sharon, I think that’s true too. Writing it out helped, also I managed to talk to Nathan about it today too. At least, I talked and he nodded in all the right spots, hehe.
Oh darling, big hugs from across the world. Honestly I’d be far more worried about you if you weren’t feeling so overwhelmed right now, with everything you’ve got to deal with it’s probably a healthy emotional response.
Looking too far into the future freaks me out. Big time. There’s too many different things to worry about with the whole health/lack of money issue. Just looking to the end of each day is enough. I don’t talk to my friends about the things I blog about…not really, to some on a very superficial level but I write it because it’s too hard to say out loud. Maybe a new blog just for venting would help?
If the help with sleep medication is what I think it is, it’ll take 2 weeks for you to know if it’s working. You might find you’re a bit sedated at first but 2 weeks really is like a miracle change point. Then it’ll either be working or you’ll know it’s not & can go back to the doc.
All over the world people are thinking of you and sending you love. Let us keep you upright when you’re struggling…..oh, and read the Philip Pullman trilogy. You’ll sob your heart out but feel better afterwards, it’s comforting.
Love and hugs. BG Xx
Veronica, I am so sorry.
Are you hoping that the new painkillers will act as an antidepressant for you? It’I am just sensing that you may need a more theraputic dose.
I am no expert, but the grief thing is something I am, sadly, v.familiar with. And from reading what you have written, upir state of mind is unlikely to heal by itself.
Your GP can refer you on the Medicare Mental Health Plan to a psychologist, for free, who will be able to help you untangle a lot of the anxieties, stressors and feelings of depression that you have written about. As well as administer a therapeutic dose of AD’s.
Sorry, this reply to you is quick and off the cuff and not as sensitive as it could/should be (I have all three kids screeching for me!) BUT, I wanted to let you know that I empathise, I really do.
Rightio sweetheart, I am home now and the people that matter namely me, your mother has just read this post. I love you sweetheart and we will talk properly tomorrow xox
Writing it out like this is a big help, keep doing it, even if you don’t post it. Write it down and get it off your chest or out of your head. I used up several exercise books when L’s paranoia and other problems threatened to send me around the bend. I’d write out my frustrations, plus all the things I couldn’t say to him in case I angered him. Then I’d rip up the pages and feel better, sometimes imagining I was ripping him!
Like you said, there is no time limit on grieving, you’ll miss your Nan always, you two had such a close bond, it’s understandable that you’re not over it. It’s only been one year!
Also your worries about Amy will be contributing to your stress levels. All of this combined is enough to bring anyone down.
I’m glad you’re getting help. Give the pills a fair go, but don’t expect miracles immediately.
You don’t have to feel that way. It’s often only after you start to get better you realise how bad things are and it doesn’t have to be that way. Don’t be afraid of chemical help.
(((hugs))) Veronica xxxxxxxxxxxxx.
What Lucy said.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxx
What you’ve just described, was exactly what I went through intensely for about six months (while my eldest who is nearly 4) was just 6 months old. I used to fear everything. If I went anywhere in the car, I would pack like 3 sets of clothes for my baby, in like 6, 12 and 24 month sizes, because I was convinced that somehow, some kind of global catastrophe (tsunami, rising sea levels, onset of the next ice age) was going to prevent me from going home to pack these things, so I had to be prepared. I can laugh now, that I think back about it, but back then there was never a moment that my heart wasn’t thumping like crazy and I could hardly breathe from fear. I never told my husband one word of what I’ve just told you, because I knew how crazy it sounded.
However, what did happen, is that I was diagnosed with an overactive thyroid, and one of the side effects of it, was raised anxiety, panic attacks, uncontrollable sweating and mild paranoia and agoraphobia. At one appointment with the endocrinologist he turned to my husband and said, “she’s handling this very well, believe me I’ve seen women go absolutely MENTAL with this condition.” and a lightbulb went on in my head like, “Oh ok, so I have been mental, and now I know why!” Anyhoo, so my thyroid activity was off the charts and they had to sort that out with radioactive iodine (fun!) and now I will forever have the reverse condition (underactive thyroid) but thankfully, no mental side effects 🙂
YIkes, I *am* losing my mind, I said my eldest was nearly 4, I meant 5.
I can’t understand what you are going through, it’s your pain and your mind/heart/spirit, but I know what it’s like to feel like you can’t say what you need to, to have it play constantly in your head, and to hear the voices screaming. Help is good. Getting it out is good. Knowing you are not alone is good.
You are not alone.
Hoping that things start working out soon, that the medication works, that you gt the assistance you need, and that you find the words. 🙂
I am not a shrink but sometimes reaching the bottom of the well is the only way you can start climbing out!
I was there the year after I left my ex – I even had panic attacks about things he had done and said years previously – it was a little bit of insane!!!
Keep writing – it is a form of healing! I once heard of an alcholic who kicked the habit through writing about it only.
The sobbing also does help relieve tension 🙂
Chin up girl you are going to get through it!
Thinking of you….
If nothing else it has to be to have your blog as an outlet… and know that everyone reading is supporting you and sending positive vibes…
Oh darling. Hugs, hugs, hugs.
i dont know what to say but here if you need us anytimedont hesitate to ask day or night we are here.love to you all.
Oh sweetheart. ((((huge hugs))))
This post reminded me of how I felt just before I finally got on the anti depressants when things weren’t going well with Max when he was little.
I’m glad you’ve gone to the doc’s and I also agree with BendyGirl – the first 2 weeks you will possibly feel more up and down, but once you’ve hit the 2 week mark the meds should start helping. If they’re not then go back to the doc’s.
I’m glad you’ve written this out. It does help. I know. I remember.
Loads of love. xxx
not to make light of any of this but how do they fall asleep at such times???
Sounds very familiar : )
You are very brave, it’s so hard to talk about this stuff. So hard. I suffer from anxiety not sure if it’s mild or not but it does change how I live day to day. I have never told anyone. Seems to run on my mums side of the family – all very shrill (is that a word?) and panicked people.
Fear blocks so many things.
xxxx
More hugs, more hugs. And maybe give the new drugs a couple of weeks, some of them take a while, but if not better in 2 weeks tell the doctor(s). Also, the one year mark is a big one – you are perfectly normal to be falling apart at the one year mark. Hang on, you’ll get through this.
Just please look after yourself.
If the sleeping things is what I think it is, you will indeed be drowsy at first. For me that was a relief. Give it the two weeks, but NO LONGER. I found myself in a similar situation two years ago–only I didn’t have as much going on, and no one had died–and I’m ok today. Not fantastic, just ok. I take a lot of pills (you see it has happened before) that I will take for the foreseeable future. And I spent 3 months in intensive CBT (which I thought was going to be all snake oil but I was desperate to feel better and willing to try anything) and now I’m ok, and taking a few less pills. Life is sometimes completely overwhelming. Don’t beat yourself up over it. You can’t blame yourself for not being able to cope. That’s what happens to all humans when things get to be too much. You’re in my thoughts and welcome to email if you like.
Veronica, I’m glad you’re writing about what you’re feeling and going through. I agree with some of the earlier comments that you should talk to a mental health professional (and perhaps even print out what you’ve written here). GPs are okay, sometimes, not always the best educated about depression and anxiety. While the painkiller may help, it may not be the right formula or dosage antidepressant, if that is indded what you need. But talking to a professional will help tease that out. Sometimes you have to try several things — everyone’s body chemistry is different — before finding something that works for you. You have a lot going on in your life right now and a lot of reasons to be anxious or sad. But ultimately, it doesn’t matter why. It just matters that you aren’t feeling at peace or anywhere near it. It’s not normal to feel that kind of anxiety. And by normal, I don’t mean that it is uncommon. I just mean don’t try to justify it by everything going on in your life and try to “tough it out”, you know. It’s okay to reach out and ask for help. You’ve been dealt a tough hand. You try to take care of everyone else and often end up putting yourself last. It’s okay to accept a little help.
Damn. Once again, I don’t know what to say that hasn’t already been said or that doesn’t sound really trite when I type it.
Writing it out is good. As you say, the people who matter, who you can’t tell it to can at least read it and see where you are right now. I hope the painkillers help but I really wouldn’t let it go a month. Also – hugs and a virtual cup of tea and a good long chat. xxx
Good comments pumpkin, you are getting good comments.
You are really brave to put this out there for all to see. So many mums are sufferring silently from anxiety and depression. Earlier in the year my anxiety got quite bad and luckily I had access to a free community counsellor that has really helped turn things around. We spoke about my fears and the incident that had triggered it all and she said to me “Do you want this to define your life?” and it made me think that this one problem I was having, really did have the power to control my whole life and I had to stop it.
You have way more courage than me, because I have never written about my anxiety in my blog, instead preferring to be the class clown. Good on you and remember that things will get better. The grieving process can take a long time and even if you are finished grieving, sometimes a big incident like a death can spark your anxiety and before you know it, it is snowballing. xxx
Hugs. 🙂
I feel really sad for you, I lost my Mum recently in April. I live in Aus and she lived England, I think about her all the time and some days it’s very hard. It feels lonely and you can’t quite believe they are not there anymore. I keep thinking it is a nightmare and I will wake up and she will be there. To make things worse my brother-in-law has cancer and will pass away any day now, my sister has lost her Mum and is about to to lose another. They are in England and i’m here, so I feel about as useful as a tit on a bull. My sister is amazing, she just keeps holding it altogether , I think she will fall down in a heap when he dies though. My sister says little things keep her going, she used to have a little bird-Robin Red Breast just appear in her garden when she was having a bad day, this is very unusual as they only appear at certain times of the year, she said it was our late Nana checking to see if she was ok, then when Mum died 2 Robins appeared and that was my Mum ! I know it sounds nuts, but for a few minutes it was a comfort to my sister.
My Mum said to me before she died, that she loved me, and that she knew I would be strong when she she went, that I would find the strength somewhere and she said I must do the things I want to. So I just try , each day but believe me there are days I just want to fall in a heap and cry. You are very brave for writing what you did and I know things will get better, as my sister says they can’t get anyworse. Just take small steps and eventually you will get to where you want to go. Good Luck.
Hi Veronica,
I;m a regular reader and also happen to be a social worker so just want to add my two cents that things like chronic illness, a death, etc are *huge* risk factors for depression and anxiety. And these things don;t tend to get better on their own. Even at a therapeutic dose, anti-depressants take 4-6 weeks to take full effect so I wouldn’t wait too much.
With all that said, I also lost my beloved g.mother when I was in my early 20s and she had helped raise me so I was devastated. I was not able to travel to see her before she died and the year that followed was very rough for me.
There is no timeline for grief, you never “get over it” I think with time, the pain is less sharp but the emptiness in your heart will always remain. Tomorrow will be a tough day, my heart goes out to you. I hope you start to find your way out of the darkness soon.
hugs
I deal with anxiety too. It is worse when my pain is out of control. Pain management hasn’t eliminated my anxiety and depression but it is more manageable.
I wish you well. I don’t let anyone in to help me, except my husband, because it’s just too hard and scary. Looking at the comments you’ve got lots of people want to support you.
I’ve felt some of the things you’re feeling, but to have the physical ailments to deal with on top of the mental must be heart-wrenching and near impossible. It’s good to hear that you’re doing something about it. Too many people suffer in silence, and you’re too important to not take care of yourself!
I haven’t felt panic like that, but I had crippling PPD after Max was born… I wish I had taken some medication to help with the depression instead of just trying to ride it out.
I’m thinking about you, and hoping that you get some help from your doctor… and yes, writing will help to be sure and so will talking. Keep doing both.
Lots of hugs.
Crying and screaming and wailing at the world is good for you.
It will make you feel like shit for a day or so afterwards, but then you can suck it up again and get on with the daily shite.
I know you will. You are strong and wonderful.
Lots of hugs xx
Thanks guys, so so much. These comments have meant the world and honestly? I have the best commenters ever.
xx
I hope you feel better in a week as well. I also would be wondering if your ED/dislocating is a fear, or if it is just extreme fear in general. I would be very afraid of dislocating in public with children around/ no help.
I’m sending healing thoughts from far away. Two local friends have been suffering those crippling panic/anxiety attacks recently, as well. Good for you for talking about it and seeking treatment. Take good care. Thinking of you and your family today.
Over time, I have come to know you and the women who guided you, made you, formed you. You are made of tough stuff – and you WILL get through this.
HUGE hugs from across the ocean. My mom is going through the same thing at the moment. It’s not easy.
Just catching up, I havn’t been online for awhile. So glad you wrote about Amy and your anxiety. I totally fell apart when daughter #2 was little, and so much like Amy. I kept it all inside, talking to myself to get through things, for years before it got so bad i was forced to get help. so glad you will get help before something bad happens. so glad you have the courage to ask for it. (and daughter #2 is doing well now, and so am I)
V,
Grief is miserable and you are allowed to move through it however you need to.
Life can be so hard and I have found that things always got to pot at the same time and compounds everything.
I have nursed this post for a few days now, thinking about it, thinking about you and your Mum and how you must be feeling.
Panic attacks are sadly a part of my life too and the feelings you describe, in fact your post in general spoke volumes to me.
I have no advice because advice has no place on this journey but please know that you have been in my thoughts.
Just now catching up in my Google Reader…I wish I had seen this earlier.
You are describing half of the winter for me. For real. I know EXACTLY how you feel. And there is not a damn thing I can say to help you except that I know that feeling. (Not the pain part of it, but the anxiety and not being able to stop crying and not wanting to leave the house. I know it very very well. You are definitely not alone in that.)
If they have Lexapro in your neck of the woods, get on it. My (state-paid for) insurance doesn’t cover it, and it would apparently work wonders for me. As it is, the doc has me on an anti-depressant, something for sleep (which I rarely think to take until it’s too late at night to take one, which is why I’m writing this comment at almost 2am my time!), because anti-anxiety meds, even in their lowest doses, knock me out completely. In the meantime, red wine takes the edge off sometimes.
Sending you a virtual hug…
I was just thinking about you. I hope that you’ve been able to see some sort of hope. It’s a long climb out, but I hope for you that you can see the top of the well.
what region of tasmania are you from? somewhere on the coast, or inland?
Comments on this entry are closed.
{ 3 trackbacks }