The way we live today, in this crazy, busy world with crazy schedules it’s hard to find time for yourself.
Sometimes I just need some time. Time to relax and heal. Time to process. Time to think and breathe. Time to rest and really rest. With my schedule I can’t always get that.
Today was an instance of overload. I went to my gyno and for news that I didn’t want to hear, it made me angry. Things aren’t happening how I want them to. I thought I would be pregnant by now. And yet there is still no progress there. There’s too many factors that he wants to consider first, things that he wants to work on first before we really start pushing hormones. I understand, logically – the logical side of me can see he’s being a good doctor. But the raw emotional side of me says that I hate him and he’s wasting my time.
I needed time to process.
Then I had an anxiety attack, different from a panic attack.
I needed time to get over that.
I called into work. They got mad. I felt bad. But I needed time. And then I needed time to get over then getting made at me.
I fell asleep and woke up in a panic attack. Shaking, heart racing, I felt like I was dying. I felt suicidal. The voices in my head saying I deserved to die.
Marcus talked me through everything. He was calming and helped me take my medicine to calm the voices in my head. We’ve been resting since then.
I just need time to rest and maybe I’ll be better tomorrow, if not, I just need more time.
So I had a bad panic attack today. You know the kind… the shaking, can’t breathe, crying, feels like your heart is going to explode, all of it.
I would have been fine, maybe, if I had been able to distract myself, or if I had my emergency medicine. But I couldn’t. And I didn’t. So I felt like I was dying. To make matters worse, I was at work. I was on my lunch break. I should have been fine.
Those of us who deal with panic attacks on a daily basis know that they can come from nowhere, can be triggered by anything, even when you are doing nothing at all. Including sitting outside on your lunch break.
Personally, even though I know all of this, panic attacks make me mad. I know that it’s a system misfiring, my fight or flight system going off when there is no apparent danger to me, I know this. I know I have panic attacks. I know that I have a panic disorder. But they make me mad. Because, in the end of it all, I feel stupid. I feel like I should be able to handle myself at work, even with the stress, because I do work a stressful job that likes to throw me some curve balls. I feel like I should have a good reason to be triggered. And sitting outside on my lunch break before I have to go back to work should not be a trigger. Work should not be a trigger.
It takes so much out of me when I have a panic attack, especially ones like today. With the shaking and everything, I’m just worn out. And of course, all I wanted to do was go home. So I did the only rational thing I could do, ask to go home. Well… that only got some raised eyebrows. Why? Because I couldn’t find the DSO, the one in charge that would tell me if I could go home or not, and when someone finally got ahold of them all I got was “Go to the ER”. So this nurse puts me in a wheelchair and is wheeling me down to the ER, and I’m just trying to remember to breathe and not bawl my eyes out while saying I don’t want to go to the ER, I just need to go home. We get there, and they all look at me to check in. Another nurse from the ER comes up and asks me what’s wrong and I tell her that I’m having a panic attack and that the DSO sent me down here. And she said something about me not having chest pain or being short of breath. Well, duh. So I calm down enough to call the DSO, she’s still telling me to go to the ER. I say fine and I call my husband to come and get me. I go and grab my things from the 4th floor. And tell them that I’m leaving, noticing that they are making a call to the DSO too. So this is just turning into a mess and a half.
I finally clock out and just leave the building. And while I’m waiting on my husband, my boss texts me and asks not so politely why I’m leaving in the middle of my shift. And lo and behold, there she is, pulling up next to me. “You, I need to talk to you. Walk over here.” So I follow her. And she’s got her hands on her hips and asking me what’s going on. I explain again, and start crying again, because I’m still having a panic attack and she’s only making it worse. “Well I don’t understand how you can have a panic attack while you’re on your lunch break.” Well aren’t you lucky that you don’t have to know how it feels?
So I’m probably going to be written up for sure this time, because she told me this counts as an absence. And she’s telling me that I’m not dependable and she needs dependable people she can trust to do their job. And I totally get it. And I’m trying to be that person. But I couldn’t be that person today. Because when I’m having a panic attack, it’s not safe for my patients. I can’t focus like that. She tells me that I need to see a doctor and suggested that I go to the ER. The thing with going to the ER is that nothing is going to be done there. It’s a panic attack, not a heart attack. They will send me home.
But this got me to thinking, how many people truly don’t understand how debilitating a panic attack can be? And instead of being so hard on someone about it, why wouldn’t you want to help them? I understand she’s a boss, and it’s her job to be tough and get things done. I get it, I really do. But when you have an employee crying in the parking lot, I would imagine a little compassion can go a lot further.
Panic attacks are weird things. People experience them in different ways. Whether they are being silent and staring off into the distance, or making a scene (like I did today). Panic does things to people. And I doubt that any two people go through them the exact same way. I shake, my face turns red, my heart beats fast, I hyperventilate. But there are times, too, when I have a panic attack and I simply get sick to my stomach, or stare off into space.
For those who need a little further explaination:
“A panic attack is a sudden episode of intense fear that triggers severe physical reactions when there is no real danger or apparent cause. Panic attacks can be very frightening. When panic attacks occur, you might think you’re losing control, having a heart attack, or even dying. Panic attacks typically begin suddenly, without warning. They can strike at any time – when you’re driving a car, at the mall, sound asleep or in the middle of a business meeting. You may have occsional panica attacks or they may occur frequently.
Panic attacks have many variations, but symptoms usually peak within minutes. You may feel fatigued and worn out after a panic attack subsides.
Panic attacks typically include some of these symptoms:
- sense of impending doom or danger
- fear of loss of control or dying
- rapid, pounding heart rate
- trembling, shaking
- shortness of breath or tightness in your throat
- hot flashes
- abdominal cramping
- dizziness, lightheadedness, or faintness
- numbness or tingling sensation
- feeling of unreality or detachment”
So a lot goes into a panic attack. And if you have panic attacks and face each day the best way you can, you’re a bad ass. Just saying.
I’m doing better now. Just resting. I hope everyone has a great day.
So I found a new doctor. Yay! And she listened to me. I don’t feel like they are going to be spending a lot of time with me in the office, which, I’m not sure how I feel about that at the moment. But, my first appointment was great.
So, this time, since it’s a new doctor, and my history of new doctors as of late has been rocky, I took my husband with me for some much needed support. He was able to fill in some gaps when I was floundering for words or when they asked a question that I didn’t know how to answer, super helpful. When they talked about stuff that I was uncomfortable with, he was supportive, took my hand and made sure I was OK. Again, super great. We didn’t talk much about the borderline personality disorder, which I am still a little upset about, I like to talk about my diagnosis more with doctors. They didn’t even talk to me about my diagnosis, I told them what I had been diagnosed with, told them my history, we answered a long questionnaire, and answered her questions. At the end of the first session, they hand me a sheet of paper that has the new diagnosis on there. This is after we discussed medications. So new diagnosis are as follows, so far: Bipolar 2, generalized anxiety disorder, panic disorder, and PTSD, again……… I don’t like when they put the PTSD on there, because yes, the rape happened, and the abuse happened, but I don’t feel like that’s a part of who I am anymore. I don’t have flashbacks anymore, I don’t have nightmares. It’s just not who I am. Or at least I don’t think so.
So the new meds are working out ok. Except that it’s 3 am and I’m writing a blog post and I’m tired but not sleepy. And I’ve had a headache for 2 days, but I’m not sure if that’s the meds or something else at this point. I’ve been prescribed geodon at 40 mg. At first they had me taking it with the seroquel 100 mg, and I would wake up super slow and sleepy. And would be falling asleep at work, like standing up falling asleep. So they cut the seroquel to 50 mg. Still sleepy, not as bad, but still sleepy. Like still falling asleep at work, but if I kept walking I would be somewhat ok. So now they have it where I’m just taking the geodon without the seroquel. I’m still taking topamax. And I have ativan for emergencies. So now, if I could just get some sleep that would be great!
Mood wise, I feel fine. I might be in a manic state right now. Maybe that’s why I’m not sleeping? I’m also having hot flashes. I’m not sure if that’s my hormones acting up or the med.
Hopefully I will get some sleep soon.
Are we really who we are? Or are our disorders making us into someone else?
DO we really know ourselves, or do we simply know our disorder?
Healthy Place had an article on this earlier today. Find their article here: Depression: What The Mentally Ill Know
I believe that we know who we are, maybe the real us, the real me, is tucked deep inside. We shield ourselves from so much stigma and the pain of our illnesses.
I know that I am more than my depression, PTSD, anxiety, and bipolar. I know that is a fact. But sometimes, that is all I see. I don’t see that I am a hard worker, or a lover, or a daughter. I see that I am bipolar. I see that I am depressed.
In Healthy Place’s article, they say that the mentally ill are more than just ill. They become educators to family and friends, they become advocates for themselves.
I want to believe that I’m becoming an educator. That, by blogging my experiences, people will realize that I, and others like me, are more than just our illnesses. Just because I’m bipolar, doesn’t mean that I am crazy. Or that I will switch emotions at the drop of a hat. Just because I’m bipolar doesn’t mean that I can’t have real or meaningful relationships.
Just because I’m a self harmer, doesn’t mean that I am psychotic. It doesn’t mean that I’m homicidal or suicidal. It means that I cope in different ways than you do. It doesn’t mean that it makes sense to you. And that’s ok.
I want to be an educator. I want to be an advocate.
But, you have to think, too, that those will illnesses, we are advocates for ourselves. We have to show people, like our doctors, how we are doing or how poorly our experiences with medications are. We learn to talk to doctors in terms that we all understand.
We become researchers. We research treatment options, coping skills, warning signs, treatment centers, and prescription help.
We become detectives. Finding out what our personal triggers are, how to minimize exposure, and ways to cope in the event that we are triggered. We find that there are others out there like us, we find communities that will help us in the event that we become triggered.
We learn what triggers are, what coping skills are, what medications and side effects are. We are more than our disorders.
We are more than a number.
We are more than a stigma.
We are more.
And we will be more than a lost identity.