Exhaustion Falls Short

I am exhausted. I think the word “exhausted” still falls short of how I have been feeling. For the last two weeks, I have been feeling my anxiety increase but thought it was manageable (once again) but unfortunately, it was more unmanageable than I could imagine. I don’t know if you can recall a moment in your life where your body has tensed up with fear. Your body feels rock hard and your brain just flashes images before your eyes? Imagine having that but it goes on for hours, days and weeks. That has been me these last two weeks. This last Tuesday, I experienced a panic attack that had me thinking that I needed to go back to the hospital. I woke up that morning feeling extremely OFF but I mean OFF. I was fidgety, had a cloudy mind, I couldn’t think or concentrate, sound bothered me, silence bothered me, I couldn’t eat but I was starving. Then boom by mid-day, I was shaking, my thoughts loud and persistent “you’re losing your mind” repeating over and over again and I could hear my heartbeat in my ears. My therapist told me to go outside and let the cold wind hit me and so, I did. To be quite honest every time someone tells me that I think it’s bogus but I always stand corrected once I just do it. After I got kissed by the cold weather and did some deep breaths my bodily panic alarms calmed down but I was still exhausted.  I kind of laugh now because, after my panic attack, my therapist called me, I said, “yeah I think that was a panic attack” and she said, “Uh yeah, I think so too!” One thing about my therapist is that she is very witty without even trying to be. That is one thing I love about her because it reminds me of myself. After that day, my days have gotten somewhat better, no matter how hard it is to see that when my brain and body are in panic mode still. My mom always says, “a little better is a litter better. That’s a win.” I admire that from her, the way she keeps telling me everything is good even when I feel like my world is falling apart. So now, let me get to the real rough stuff. The things I need to discuss and get off my chest. There are real reasons behind my flare-up that I just don’t feel like getting into but one thing is my intrusive thoughts. In another blog post, I discussed what intrusive thoughts are but I will quickly explain them once more to refresh your memory. Intrusive thoughts can come as images (my therapist describes them as commercials) that pop into your head about something that is very “concerning” or out of character for you and they cause a high level of distress and fear. MY intrusive thoughts are always self-harm and losing my mind. And because I have characteristics of OCD, when my stress is unmanageable then my intrusive thoughts are on a never-ending loop that becomes very hard to deal with and in many cases like this week, is crippling. The difference between intrusive and suicidal thoughts is that intrusive thoughts cause you stress because you do not want to do them, they are extremely out of character so you stay stuck on the “why am I thinking this?”, “Is this a hidden desire?”, “Why me?” and so on. While suicidal thoughts are those thoughts about self-harm and ending your life in a way that does not distress you, you accept them, you believe that is the only way out. If you suffer from any of these thought processes it is important to look for professional help. I promise, therapy is not as scary as movies and shows make it seem. If I could go have a beer with my therapist, I so would. It’s like having a neutral best friend that you tell all your secrets to and instead of judging you, she has some cool tips and coping skills. Anyway, because I have been experiencing more levels of stress than normal, shit has been hard. Extremely hard. Some days I feel like I can do this, other days I’m like I can’t do this. While I was feeling better than Tuesday, on Thursday, I had to write to my therapist for help. I want you all to know that it took me like four minutes to actually type the word “help” but I did it. Thankfully, my therapist fit me in and watched me cry out of frustration, and really had me reflect on why I was feeling anxious. WHAT was the root? When did it begin? And WHY. She helped me connect the dots and it made sense. A lot of sense, actually. One time my therapist told me, “therapy is not here to fix you but it is here to help you see things clearly”. I think of that from time to time because I think I have been seeing things a little more clearly since I began therapy two years ago. Now that I think of it, my healing journey didn’t begin last year the day I got out of the hospital after my episode but it started two years ago, the first time I sat across from my therapist and she said, “Hi, my name is Alana.” I have had highs and lows since then. Some lows were lower than low. Nina before therapy still had an anxiety disorder and OCD tendencies but it was not as flared up and I was in complete denial. I want you to know that denial makes things worse and it even kills, to be frank. No, I am not saying I am the most enlightened because that is a big ass lie. I definitely still have moments of pure denial of my anxiety, I also have moments that I deny when my body and emotional side needs rest. I am not perfect. I will never be perfect but my goal is to get better, to let my body go through the motions, and coexist with my anxiety and flare-ups. They make me feel lonely, they scare me and they make me feel like I am the biggest lost cause there is. I also am extremely hard on myself which is another layer that I need to work through. But I am definitely not alone. I am going through a rough ass flare-up that knocked me down, once, twice, or even three times this week but I have hope. Patience? Eh, I’m working on it. But hope? Yes.