I had another appointment with her last week, and she was concerned that I am taking the ativan every day.  She doesn’t want me to get addicted to it.  I understand her concern because I feel the same way.  It’s helping me so much though.  I take it when I can feel a panic attack coming on, and it calms me right down…within a few minutes.  I told her that I feel the celexa working, but it’s not enough during those really high anxiety times.  She increased my dosage to 40mg per day from 20mg per day to see if that helps.  She did promise not to take the ativan away, but she’s hoping that I’ll use it less.  Me too.

She also suggested I find a therapist, and talked with me about FMLA when I told her I was worried about missing work for it.  I know I need a therapist, and my company will pay for the first 10 sessions, so there’s really nothing stopping me but myself.  It’s seems such a daunting task.  I’ve talked about it a lot on my blog.

I’m still very frustrated that I can’t write in my handwritten journal.  I strained a ligament in my hand.  I’m hoping that with ice and ibuprofen, it will get better soon.  I have to take it easy.  At least typing isn’t painful anymore.

I guess the bright side of my injury is that I’ve been reading a lot.  I’m almost finished with the first book in the series A Song of Ice and Fire, and I will read the others.  It’s a great series so far, but it’s been a bit triggering.  I will write about it in another post.

I hurt my right hand not long after my last blog post.  I haven’t been able to write for any amount of time before it swells up and I’m in pain, and typing is almost as bad.  I’ve been avoiding it in an attempt to heal.

I have been on my new anti-anxiety meds for over a month now, and I can certainly tell the difference.  I’m calmer overall, and can react in a normal way to stressful situations.  I am on 20mg of Celexa, which I take once per day, and .5mg of Ativan that I take when I am extra anxious.  I’ve been noticing that I need to take at least one Ativan per day.  I’m definitely thankful for the relief.  I have a doctor’s appointment next week, and we’ll see if she’ll keep me on my regimen or if she’ll change anything.

I think I would be even less anxious if I were able to write in my personal journal.  For the past few years, I’ve kept a handwritten journal that I write in most nights, curled up in my comfy chair.  Since I’ve hurt my hand, I haven’t been able to write at all, and that is very disheartening.  I’m trying to be extra careful with my hand so it will heal faster.  I need to be able to write, so I can purge my thoughts and clear my head.  I don’t know where to go with my anger, frustration, etc.

I will end this post now, as my hand is hurting again.  I just wanted to check in.  I have been keeping up with the blogs I read, and hopefully soon I will be able to join you all again.

I’m so relieved.

She believed me.  She listened to me and asked questions for about a half hour, and we really got into how this is affecting my life.  She was so attentive.  She didn’t rush me, and she didn’t make me feel like I was overreacting.  In fact, she looked shocked at some points when I mentioned some of my OCD tendencies.

I don’t know how well this medication will work out, but I’m so thankful that I asked for help.

I called and left a message for my doctor about my anxiety, and her nurse called me this morning.  That was a hard conversation.  She seemed to think that I was just going through an anxious spell.  I told her that I’ve had this since I was a child, and it’s just now gotten to the point that I can’t handle it anymore.  That was probably poor wording because the next question she asked me was…

“Do you feel like you are danger to yourself or others?”  That caught me a bit off-guard, and I said, “Oh God, no!”.  I don’t want anyone to ever think that about me.  I am not suicidal.  In fact, I love life in general, and I have a husband and child.  I would never take my own life, and I would NEVER hurt anyone else.

So the conversation continued with a battery of other questions.  Heart palpitations?  Check.  Panic Attacks?  Check.  Does Dr. know that you have anxiety?  Um, not yet.  I’ve been good at hiding it all these years.  And on and on until the nurse was satisfied that she had enough information to pass on to my doctor.  I was close to tears the entire time.

My doctor is rounding today, but will be in this afternoon.  I hope I get a call by the end of the day to let me know where to go from here.  If she doesn’t prescribe me meds, maybe she can refer me to a therapist or something.

I have to thank the reader’s who gave me so much encouragement.  It was a HUGE feat for me to be able to make that call.  I made the leap, and asked for help.  That is something that is incredibly hard for me.  I’ve always been self-sufficient, and pride myself on being so independent…to my detriment at times.

So here goes.  Cross your fingers that I’ll get the help I need.

Boy, was I right.

All of my molars have stress fractures from clenching my jaw.  I will lose my molars if I don’t stop clenching my teeth.

I’m clenching my jaw because I’m so damn anxious all the time.  So now, I am not only damaging my mental well-being, but I am also physically damaging myself.    I really like to eat all kinds of foods, so this is a grim prospect.  I now have to be consciously aware to keep my teeth from touching.  I clench my jaw all the time.  I clench it harder when I’m especially anxious.  This means that I need to get on some anxiety meds to help me chill out.

I keep putting off calling my doctor.  I don’t want to have to go into an appointment with her and explain why I need to be medicated.  How do I explain to someone whose been treating me for years, that I’ve been hiding the fact that I’m a basket case from her?  I know she would hear me out, but I’m afraid that she won’t believe me, and I’ll walk out of there with no help.  Same place I am now, just without hope.  One can’t survive without the hope that things will get better.  I’m also leery about mood-altering medications since taking Effexor.  The withdrawals from going off that almost killed me.

So, I am stuck in this limbo of needing help really bad, yet I’m terrified to ask for it.

That makes me more anxious.  Le sigh…

Every time I get in my car, I brace myself for it to explode when I put the key in the ignition.  Every teeny-tiny smell that comes from my car makes my heart race because I’m just sure that it’s going to explode soon.

Now, my car is a good car.  It’s about 7 years old with only 60,000 miles on it, and I take good care of it.  I haven’t had a serious issue with it yet.  These facts don’t stop me from being afraid of my vehicle.

I hate going anywhere in my car, and that’s really unfortunate because I have to go to work everyday, I have to run errands everyday, and I have to pick my daughter up from her after-school program everyday.  As you can imagine, this is a huge anxiety booster for me because this is something that I can’t avoid, at all.  I have to drive…my car.

Not only does my car terrify me, but my driving abilities terrify me as well.  I am a great driver, but I imagine these scenarios where I forget to slow down for a stop light and drive right into traffic (this is every time I hit a stoplight), or I will swerve into oncoming traffic, or my hands will do something my brain can’t control and I’ll end up in an accident.  The best one is when I see a pedestrian, and I worry that I’ll drive up on the sidewalk and hit them.

I know it’s healthy to be aware of possible scenarios when you are driving.  Every driver needs to stay sharp, and not take anything for granted, but this is nuts.  I can’t ever enjoy a drive because I have these irrational fears that I am going to lose control and any number of things could happen.  I could kill myself, my daughter, or strangers I don’t even know.

It’s normal to have these thoughts occasionally, but I have them every single moment I am in my car.  That combined with the fact that I feel like my car will explode makes for a very unfortunate situation.

I hate that part of my life, and it’s such a big one.

–Robert Gary Lee

Since my last post, I have actually recovered a memory.  I guess writing about that particular anxiety sparked some introspection into why I have that specific anxiety.

Shortly before my father abandoned me, we lived in Alabama.  My dad was stationed at Fort Rucker, and we lived in Ozark.  I was 8 years old.  I remember my father forcing my sister and I to stay outside for hours at a time.  We weren’t allowed to come in the house.  The backyard was nice.  Fenced in, and it had honeysuckle plants that I remember sucking on.  They were very sweet, I remember.

I also remember being so terrified of my father that I didn’t dare ask him if I could come in the house to use the restroom.  I vividly remember wearing a pair of light blue shorts and darker blue tank top.  I ended up urinating because I just couldn’t hold it in anymore.  I remember being in agony for a long time, just trying to hold it in.  I remember feeling really ashamed after it happened.  I also remember my father beating me severely because of it.

I’ve been thinking about this memory a lot, and it makes sense that I still have a fear that I’m going to lose bladder control.  I was beaten for it once, and that’s all it takes to create a mental disturbance.  My father beat me all the time, over little things, things that weren’t even my fault, or just because.  I’m actually glad that I recovered this memory.  I’m not overly upset by it, and it’s put some puzzle pieces together for me.

Now that I know where this specific anxiety comes from, I may be able to change it or even remove it completely.

My goal in life right now is to get this anxiety under control through medication and cognitive behavior therapy because, as it stands right now, this is no kind of life until I get better.  I can’t hope to work on any other part of my recovery until I have a good handle on this.

So here goes.  Irrational Anxiety #1

I am constantly worried that I am going to lose bladder and bowel function.

I don’t need to go into details obviously, but this is a constant fear of mine (especially when I’m away from home).

Now, this may stem from the fact that after a woman has children, it is possible for them to have incontinence from time to time.  I’ve heard this over and over again.  I NEVER have, at least so far.  This has never been a realized anxiety.  I also have digestive and bowel problems, but never in a way that I have lost control of them.  I am so afraid that I will lose control in front of people, and I will be mortified.  I am be afraid that no one will ever look at me the same again. I’m worried that if I stop worrying about it…that’s when it will happen.

Yeah, irrational is an understatement.

This is something that I should not worry about, at all.  If I does happen, I can worry about it then.  If people judge me because of it, they are not worth my time.  I know the people who are important to me never would.  I do my “exercises” probably more than anybody in history.  My pelvic floor is strong as hell.  I repeat again, this hasn’t happened yet.

Why do I worry about something that I have no history with?