July 25, 2024
Anxiety, real anxiety, is not what most "regular" people think that it is.
Everyday people get anxiety about "things" - things that have gone wrong, things that frighten them, things they are afraid of doing.
Having Generalized Anxiety Disorder - or GAD - that I have, like my grandmother and my son, is not a reaction to the outside world or things that worry us. GAD is a monster that takes over your brain and body and sanity in a way that cannot be described to someone that does not have it.
Today I had a full blown attack today. Now, to be honest, it's been stressful at my home recently. The four of us that "regularly" live here, my husband and our 2 sons, have been joined in the last couple of years by my oldest daughter along with her 2 children (whom we love and adore) on her custody days. That has been...tight. We have the physical space in this huge house, but not for a full family like theirs and they've been cooped up in our full basement - right next to my hubby's home office where he works 4 days a week. Not ideal to begin with for anyone.
Add to that the fact that for the last month, we've hosted our oldest son's dear and beloved boyfriend, whom we also adore. With no other place to put him up, he's hunkered down in my office - where I work 3 days a week. So - we've been squished, to put it mildly. Some days, all 8 of us are here and it's loving, but too tight.
Not surprisingly, some days are worse than others and that day was today. It had been slowly building, and I'd been using all the crutches I could. Reading my favorite books to keep my brain out of the current situation, taking alone time when I can, cleaning when the crew is out of the house, using my favorite medical plant, attempting meditation but it is absolutely impossible in ways it never was before...and then lately, having to bring out the old big guns - my Xanax. And it's barely been keeping me sane.
But it struck me today that even now, I forget how it physically attacks me. Today, I couldn't breathe. My chest muscles were tight as a drum, no matter how I tried to relax. I could literally FEEL my heart pounding louder and harder in my chest as the day wore on. I checked my pulse, because I MUST have a racing heartbeat and tight chest from something, but nope. Nice and steady 70bpm while sitting, which is fine for an old white woman.
I couldn't breathe. I couldn't relax. I couldn't inhale fully. I felt like a band around my ribcage that was keeping me prisoner. Then I realized this was all the anxiety. Yes, the world is shit and yes, my life is a little crazy, but I am NOT having a heart attack or asthma attack or anything physical. My brain and body had decided to handle my stress by making me think I was dying.
I'm not. I took a full dose of Xanax. Twenty minutes later, my chest relaxed. I was able to take a semi-full breath. It's still not back to normal, but I can live with this. The pounding of my heart stopped so again, like a normal person, I can't feel it now. I can form sentences. I can think clearly. Clearly enough that I am just ANGRY that this is my burden.
Now don't think I don't KNOW how lucky I am. I DO. Every day my body mechanics stick up their ugly heads to let them know that I am NOT in charge of how I feel. My UCTD and so many other stupid physical ailments with me daily keep me from enjoying the active life I thought I would have at 62. My retirement will look very different than I envisioned all these years.
No jogging in the park.
No dancing in fun competitions with my husband.
No pickleball with my friends.
No hiking in the mountains on vacation.
Not even singing weekly or playing my flute...the lung power needed is too draining for even that.
And many days, my back hurts or I'm too exhausted to even pickup my brush and paint.
BUT I KNOW I'M LUCKY.
Those are physical things and my brain is unaffected. I read and watch TV and listen to music and people I love and try to survive.
But when my own BRAIN attacks me and makes my life unlivable...I just makes me RAGE against it!
I can't imagine what my own brother went through that made it so unlivable that he just couldn't live.
I've always understood why he felt he had to make that choice. Always.
I've missed him SO much but understood.
So, yes, in that respect, I know I'm lucky, too, because at least I get a break from my brain shit and can be "normal" again on other days. The days he didn't have.
But, damn, it still sucks.
