Wednesday, 25 July 2012

Adam's Song

You'd think I could never, ever forget what it was like to be anxious.  How could anyone forget that?  That exhaustion, that pain, that debilitation, that fear. 

But I did.  I forgot it.  I forgot how much my chest hurts with every breath.  I forgot the headaches and the butterflies in my stomach.  I forgot the restlessness, the racing heart, the crushing feeling in my ribs.  I forgot what it was like to count the days.  Count the hours.  Count the minutes trying to hold it together. 

I forgot. 

I forgot because I've been doing so well.  Because I let myself forget.  I slowly reduced my meds until I could cope without them altogether.  I was stable.  I was happy. 

Until something happened.  I'm not sure what exactly, but something.  Or many things.  Many little things that just aren't so "little" in the grand scheme of my childhood fear, confusion, frustration, mistrust.  Things that somehow triggered me.  One thing, or two, or a handful of external pressures that just... built up inside me until they burst.  Set me off like a bomb I forgot was there. 

Only not like a bomb.  Not a shell-shocking explosion.  More like a slow-releasing toxic gas that seeps into my lungs and pores without me even realizing it. 

And then.  Then the effects begin to make themselves known.  I start to feel it.  To know it.  To recognize it. 

It hits and I don't want to leave my bed.  It hits and crying seems easier and yet harder than it ever has.  It hits and Adam's Song on the radio shoves me into a panic.  It hits and... and I'm terrified that I'm back where I started, with no power, and no strength, and no logic to save me. 

It hits. 

And it hurts. 

And I'm trapped. 

29 comments:

  1. Bella. You're not where you were. Because where you were took MONTHS for you to identify it. And you didn't know where to begin to learn how to cope. You're in a different place now. Aware. Strong. Knowledgeable. You're a fighter.

    But I'm so sorry that you have to ever feel this way. It's not fair. You should have to keep fighting like this.

    xo LB

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  2. you're not where you were. ripping off a scab isn't the same as getting the wound in the first place. it's less deep and takes less time to heal.
    don't be too proud to take your meds again. better medicated and functioning than off them and drowning.

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    1. Not too proud, usually. They take forever to kick in so I have to be sure I need them. Thanks. :)

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  3. I don't know, cause I've never been a smoker or a drinker, but I have this theory that those of us who struggle with anxiety issues -- in particular as a result of shit from our childhoods -- go through a similar process as people quitting smoking or drinking in that it takes time to understand and get past the triggers, and develop new and better habits to replace the bad ones when things get rough. But time does have an impact. It does get easier. The work you've done in the past does pay off. As others have offered, you now have tools like being aware of what's going on as the rough periods sneak up. And like the option of meds if you are feeling really close to the edge. It's still scary. No doubt. But hopefully you can find some strength in knowing that you are not back at the starting line. For me it helps to think of it as a triathlon. I've made it through the swim (my least fav part), and the bike (my strong sport). But there's day when that effer the run really kicks my ass. xoxo.

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    1. I hate the idea of living in the run stage for the rest of my life.

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    2. That's just the metaphor that works for me: someone who actually enjoys running from time to time. Someone who sometimes feels like I own the run instead of the other way around. It speaks to the fact that while I know I've come too far to ever be that same woman I was towards the end of my marriage, unable to get off the couch, paralyzed by the anxiety ball of emotions I didn't know how to feel, I do expect that there will always be highs (a flat stretch on a beautiful day) and lows (uphill in a rainstorm). But I have faith that as time passes, as I train more / develop new tools, I'll be better prepared for the lows. And, with time, that there will be fewer of them. I hope that makes sense. Would never want to say something that makes you feel worse! Much love, v

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    3. Oh no, don't worry. I just meant it's so TIRING. xo

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  4. OH no!

    try to remember how strong you are.... how your words have helped others, including myself, realize how strong THEY were!

    *HUGS*

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  5. You left a comment on my blog about having a very bad day. I assume this is what you meant. I'm so sorry for your anxiety. I have it too, but not like you describe. I'm glad my post helped. Hang in there!

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  6. Yeah. What SherilinR said. She took the words right out of my mouth. Please consider what she said. Peace.

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    1. Oh yes. Today I feel a bit better. Nice to let it out. As for meds, I know theyre there if I need them.

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  7. V is right. It's an Ebb and Flow kind of thing. Honestly I know it feels as if the steps have tilted into a slide that dumps you straight to the bottom, and now you have to bloody climb up the damned things again. But you're not actually at the bottom, you on a landing a ways up from where you'd been at the beginning. I don't know if that's encouraging to you, but when Jex pointed it out to me I felt like I could get back up and start up those emotional stairs again. I've gotten over my pride/fear/disdain of medication, it's like a walking stick not a crutch (my mantra). Sure you can get on by yourself, but it makes things a whole lot more manageable.
    I know how you feel to some extent. Repressed memories suuuuck.(<-- said an octave higher than the other words just FYI)
    You've got it in you to punch this asshole in the face again, and knock it the fuck out.
    *internet hug*

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    1. Thanks doll the stairs but does make sense. I just hate having to climb them at all. Fuckers.

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  8. Hang in there. SherilinR said it beautifully. Because even though things are hard now, at least you know what's going on, and you know that help is out there (both of the medication and non-medication kind). I'm rooting for you.

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    1. Thanks Ang. Rooting for me. I like that.

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  9. Aw, I'm so sorry you're feeling this way again. My mom suffers from the same thing, it's so difficult to watch & not be able to help. I hope you start to feel some relief again soon.

    *hugs*

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    1. Thank you darling. I am feeling a bit better. Helps to know i"m on vacation for a week.

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  10. Hun, you are not alone. LIfe likes to kick us in the ass when we get a little too comfortable. Fucker eh? We CAN do this! Breathe. What helps me is to tell myself, it's the anxiety, nothing else and I can push past it. The worst that can happen is I shit my pants in public. But I won't die. And if I get a hold of the anxiety that won't happen either. Also remember, you can feel shitty and lay in bed, or you can feel shitty and drag yourself out and do something. The difference, you got something done, no matter how small and feel better at the end of the day. EVen if it is just a smile knowing you didn't let your anxiety, ect completely run your day.

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    1. I find I just have to be aware, and take it easy on myself. Sucks haveing to admit defeat, in a way, but I feel a bit better now. Glad to have a week off.

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  11. Oh hun, this just sucks. This time you know that it is not forever, you know that you can move beyond it . . . you know this because you have done it before.

    Be gentle with yourself and know that you are not alone. I love you and I am here to help!
    Jenn

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    1. Thank you Jenn so much. I'm feeling much better this week. No chest pain! Woohoo! ;)

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