I have a Panic/Anxiety Disorder.
I think it started mildly in college and just slowly got worse and worse until BAM my cheese slid off my cracker. It was to the point of no turning back. What was my little secret wasn't a secret anymore. I couldn't hide it. I shook constantly...I cried continuously...I had crazy thoughts...I had crazy symptoms. I thought I had tumors, I thought I had worms (don't ask), I thought I had cancer, I thought I had an ulcer, I thought my intestines had been blocked, I thought my throat was swelling shut, I thought I had a heart murmur....I went to the ER like it was my PCP. I went to her too. I was checked out from head to toe and from toe to head. I carried so many bags of poop to the GI doctor...I wanted to be tested for the West Nile virus...never mind I rarely go outside. My vision blurred so I was convinced I was going blind...I couldn't sleep...I couldn't focus....I couldn't tell anyone. Why?? They would totally think I was nuts. I don't know why that bothered me...everything I listed above was weird but I still did it. Driving in my car made my arms tense up...I would grit my teeth....I would hold onto the steering wheel like my life depended on it. I was depressed. To use a fabulous southern phrase....I didn't know whether to "shit or go crazy" but trust me I was doing alot of both.
Then I sought a therapist or two...got some nifty medication and got a grip!!
So yes, I have a panic/anxiety disorder but it doesn't have me. I go to my therapist and vent and cry and scream. I have pity-parties. There are days when I'm a negative Nellie...and there are days when I'm a positive Penny. I don't scratch myself till I bleed anymore....I don't sit outside in the middle of the night thinking that being out in the "wide open" will help me breathe better. I still have the fun symptoms I listed above and some I haven't mentioned but now....I just roll with them. I have Panic/Anxiety Disorder as my trusted and constant companion, as my lens through which to see the world. It is as definitive as my country accent or my birthmark on my shoulder. Sometimes it gets out of control. But it is part of my genetic makeup, which I see as a gift.
I have faith that it happened for a reason...more on that later. I have a circle of friends who know and accept me, a therapist who cares, a relationship with my mother that I never had expected. I've started this blog where I candidly discuss the good, the bad, the ugly and the poop. The old Angie would never have done that. I've stopped asking "why me" or looking for reasons of "what I did wrong"....I'll never know. Yes, it may have a lot to do with my perfectionistic nature and the way I was raised but what can I do now...but go with the flow. Instead of visiting the ER I write in my journal or pet my dog......I have some prescriptions. Hopefully one day I'll just have empty bottles as a reminder of where I was and how far I've come but for now I need the meds.
My "disorder" has made me stronger and REAL. There's nothing "real-er" than talking about poop on FB. Almost a year ago today I walked out on a job that made me physically and emotionally miserable. I took a leap of faith. I left behind insurance...good pay and stability. It was the craziest thing I had ever done. I felt beat down by my employer...I had lost the ability to care...my drive was gone....and their concern for me was gone. The girl that I was would never have "up and quit her job in the middle of the day" but this girl would. This girl told them "see ya"....it was a little more dramatic but let's face it...I'm dramatic. For 6 months I worked 2 part time jobs...cat-sit...and sold all kinds of personal "stuff" to make it. In the meantime I decided I was going to spend this year with no FEAR. I started a bucket list and I've crossed a number of things off. I found a new challenging job. Well, actually it found me. And you know what.....I'm good at it. It upsets me sometimes because I still want to be perfect and I'm making mistakes but they appreciate me and like me. They don't make me feel like nothing I ever do is right. I can stand up to my new boss and say what I want and he respects that. Nobody is putting this girl in the corner again....I've always wanted to say that. I will never be put in a situation where I'm that miserable again. I fight for what I think is right. I speak my mind and say what I think. I have panic attacks at WalMart. I talk about my poop on Facebook. I worry about food poisoning. I "run away" occasionally. But I'm strong. I'm brave. And I'm not going to let a little panic break me.
I'm not ashamed. I'm not embarrassed. It's not the life I would have chosen for myself. I definitely wouldn't wish it on someone else. But I have it. And I'm dealing....one day at a time. Some days are easier than others....some days require a little more medication....some days require a little more prayer.
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