So, tonight has found me in the middle of a big, ugly panic attack. For the past four hours, I've been an outright mess. Thankfully, my Hubby has gotten good over the past 13 years at reading my moods and helping me work my way through them, and he hung in there with me and I'm starting to feel a bit better.
I thought I'd sit down and write a bit, maybe get some more of the junk out of my head so I'll be able to sleep, especially since it is now after 1:00 am and I'm on day who-even-knows-what (16 ? Maybe 17?) of terrible, sporadic, almost-no sleep. Seriously, my insomnia situation is starting to freak me out, but that is another post for another time!
I don't know if I've ever shared my mental issues on this blog or not, but they are a HUGE part of my life, going back into my childhood as far as I can remember. I have some depression, most of the time that part is pretty manageable, but my main issue is anxiety. High, uncontrollable anxiety. Panic attacks, chronic worry, obsessive thoughts, a paralyzing phobia. Every day, every situation, every part of my life is wrapped around and pretty much controlled by this, and frankly I'm exhausted.
Oddly, I'm getting worse with time, even though I always expected that with maturity I'd overcome it. It is starting to really scare me, the thought that by the time that I'm elderly I'll be without my Mom and possibly my husband (they are my two rocks throughout it all) and be even worse (!) and I'll not know how to survive it. This is quickly becoming one of my new obsessive fears. Nice.
One of the other things that always tended to help me deal with my mental issues was my spiritual life, but sadly I'm really struggling these days with my relationship with God. Truly, I'm angry and confused, and don't know what to do with those feelings most of the time. I usually try to bottle those feelings up and just have as much faith as I can muster...but then I come to this place time and time again. I can't ignore my questions and doubts and I come to the end of my faith. I just fall apart, and honestly every time I eventually find my way back, but during the lull I feel so lost and alone. Why is this so hard?
Phew. I'm kinda coughing up everything all in one psychotic post! Believe it or not, this is seriously just the tip of the iceberg of my mental illness. The good news is that I am actually feeling better after getting this little bit of it off of my chest! It's now 2:21 in the morning, but these days I'm quite familiar with being wide awake at this hour. I'm just happy that sleep tonight even seems like a possibility to me now...an hour ago I wasn't so sure.
So look...I'm aware that this is showing WAY more of my mess than I've exposed here in the past and I'm not going to edit it for now...perhaps with daylight I'll come to my senses and delete it, perhaps not. What difference does it really make, anyway?
Here's the thing:
1. I'm greatly flawed. Screwed up, even.
2. I'm pretty isolated in my life and don't really have many friends.
3. I can't afford therapy and I'm dealing with this non-medicated.
Those things all added up mean that I need an outlet from time to time, so if it ends up here, who am I to care? Sometimes I get tired of hiding the mess, sometimes I just plain need to blurt it all out. This? Was a bit of a blurt, I'd say. Whatever. I need sleep, obviously. :-)