15 Mar 2011 4 Comments
*****WARNING – POSSIBLY TRIGGERING*****
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.
10 Mar 2011 3 Comments
In an attempt to make myself realize how ridiculous I am…okay, rather, in an attempt to recover and get this anxiety under control, I’ve decided to make a series of blog posts about the things that cause me anxiety that shouldn’t. I have loads and loads of them, and I think I will be better equipped to understand myself if I write them down. To be able to tangibly see them and try to change how I react to these things.
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?
09 Mar 2011 4 Comments
I chose a new theme for my blog because quite frankly, my old theme was depressing me. Hopefully this will cheer me up a bit.
09 Mar 2011 3 Comments
Have you ever gotten to the point where you are fully aware of your mental disorder and realize how bad it really is?
I’ve always been aware that I have a lot of anxiety, in fact, I have generalized anxiety disorder, but I always thought I was handling it fine. “I’m a normal human being and I don’t have to let this control my life,” is what I always thought. This should be true, but I’ve come to the understanding now that I cannot control this on my own. It’s taken over my life in a huge way. I have a mental disorder. I have others, but this one is in complete control of my mind.
I see the bad patterns and tendencies that I have when it comes to anxiety, and I feel powerless to stop it. I’ve been trying to get it under control for about two years now, and all I’ve done is become hyper-aware of it. I then, in turn, get more anxious because I feel like such a failure in attempting to control it.
I am anxious every second of the day, nonstop. Constant worrying, constant fear, sometimes even terror. Mortality has been my biggest issue lately. I lie in bed at night after checking on my daughter for the third time, worrying that she will somehow die in her sleep. I made a hair appointment (only because I had a gift certificate that was about to expire), and all I could think about until we had to make the trip was that I was going to kill my daughter and I in a car accident. I’ve been worrying about my husband at work, and I have no reason too. I worry about my daughter every second she is away from me, even when she’s just in her bedroom and the door is closed. If it’s quiet for too long, this fear rises in me and I have to check on her. Every time she is fine.
Those are the big ones that make me really feel my disorder. I know it’s not normal to behave this way. There is an immeasurable amount of smaller worries, and things that should never even hit the worry radar that are making me go insane, little by little. I fret over EVERYTHING I say to people, analyzing it all for stupidity. I’m so worried that I will sound dumb to someone. Right now, I’m worried about a work project that I just finished. I triple-checked everything, but I’m worried that I might have missed something, even though it would be far from a catastrophe if I did.
It’s hard to really express how horrible this is for me, how horrible it has been for awhile now. I really hate living like this. I’m not comfortable in my own skin, and especially not my mind. I expect that people judge me every time they look at me, and I hate that I am me. Sometimes I wonder why God even gave me an existence, or this existence in particular. It’s not fun to be me right now. It’s not fun to be a slave to a mental disorder. I feel so utterly out of control of my thoughts.
I think a call to my doctor is in order.
24 Feb 2011 Leave a comment
“Happiness is beneficial for the body, but it is grief that develops the powers of the mind”
24 Feb 2011 1 Comment
Obviously, I haven’t posted in awhile. The last few weeks have been insane to say the least. My grandmother’s passing has opened up so many emotions that I never realized were there. I have so much to write about today, but I’m not sure where to start.
It has been emotionally exhausting just to be in the presence of the rest of my family members during this time. Even though she was 83 years old, her death was unexpected. She had gone into the hospital and had surgery to remove an infection, but she was recovering very well. So well, in fact, that they moved her from ICU to a rehabilitation center. She was there for 3 days before a massive heart attack took her peacefully in her sleep. My aunts were lost and confused. I helped with the funeral arrangements, and it seems I was the one who had my shit together the most. I didn’t shed a tear, although I did feel icky.
Being in my grandmother’s house the day of funeral was surreal. It was packed with family members, but it felt wrong. The one person who was ALWAYS sitting in the same chair every time you went there, was gone. It also felt very wrong to be going through her things. It felt very wrong that family members were dividing up her things amongst each other. I understand that is what has to happen when someone dies, but I wasn’t ready for it.
This is the woman who emotional abused and neglected me for a long time, yet I miss her. She was a constant in my life. She was always there. I came to the realization last week that I never thought I would see her die. I’ve always expected to die young, always. It might be because my mother died young, but I never thought about the future at all because I was sure that I wouldn’t have a long life. I was ok with it, but it left me not ever contemplating the situation of my grandmother’s death. Even when she was in the hospital, I never thought she was going to die. It was a non-issue. Now I can think of nothing else than mortality.
My grandmother kept everything. Letters, medical records, pictures, keepsakes and even every single one of my report cards from 3rd grade (when I went to live with her) until I graduated high school. It was kind of fun going through those. I found the only “D” I ever received. I also found a letter that was written by an old friend of my father’s family to my father about his behavior after my mother died. I always loved this friend as a second mother. There was one sentence in that letter that rocked my world. It said, “On her death bed, she made you swear to never send her daughters to live with her mother.” Imagine my jaw dropping. My mother apparently knew that my grandmother would not be a good person to raise me if it was one of her last requests. Of course, we know what happened. My father didn’t give two shits what my mother wanted, and he did exactly what she didn’t want him to.
If I had even the slightest bit of love left for my father, it disappeared the moment I read that sentence.
I guess the bright side of my grandmother’s passing is that I was given her old cedar chest which, as it turns out, was my mother’s. It was her hope chest. I imagine my grandmother got it when my mother died, and I remember it always being at the foot of my grandmother’s bed. It’s in rough shape, but I plan to restore it as a treasured memory of my mother. I also got my mother’s graduation picture, which is just stunning. I’d never seen it before, and I treasure it. It’s beautifully framed, and sits in a prominent place in my living room.
I am worried about the aftermath of my grandmother’s passing. I’m not sure what will happen to my family. She was the matriarch after all. I don’t want us to grow apart because she’s not around as a center point.
Mostly, I have a head full of new facts and emotions I’m not quite handling well. I know it’s a process, like everything in life, but I’m letting myself get overwhelmed. I’m letting myself hurt for awhile. If I know my cycle, I’ll become numb after that and then I’ll start analyzing.
I hope the Good Lord gives me peace for awhile because it’s already been a really rough year.