Anxiety 2015

Note: I started writing this post not long after the last post, but um.....got lazy.

Yeah yeah, I was supposed to write this a few days ago. I had stuff go on. Sue me.

Not really. I have no money.

The day after we came back, I started setting our stuff in order. Needed to clean, get groceries, love the cat because she was pissed, get into the doctor to have my ear checked out, all that jazz. I noticed something though. I was in super mega bitch mode. Like any little thing set me off. It culminated in a pretty large fight with my husband. A lot of shit was said, and it got ugly. I didn't care at the time though. I wanted to fight dirty and be as cunty as I could be. I succeeded. Luckily, things were worked out and I calmed down a bit.

I went to the doctor the next day for my ear. It was a pretty raging infection that required some heavy antibiotics. Twice, because it didn't leave the first fucking time and I couldn't hear for shit for like a month. I finally managed to clear it up with Flonase, Sudafed, Benadryl, a neti pot, a young priest and an old priest, and a massive amount of cussing.

I was kidding about the priests. Maybe.

After the blow up fight and the ear infection diagnosis, I started feeling weird. Like I wasn't getting enough air. My chest would feel funny. My heart would start beating really fast and cause my head to pound. It was hard to fall asleep at night. I started thinking the bad thoughts again, things I thought had banished after the last round of breakdowns and anxiety. But no. They all came out to play: dying in my sleep. Losing my family. Random events occurring that would decimate the city I live in. Just heaps of nastiness. Then things came to a head.

It was about a week after we got back from California. We were heading out to the DMV to formally register the new car and get license plates. I was still feeling terrible, but thought it was because I was sleep deprived and needed caffeine. I stopped to get coffee, but I still felt strange. We managed to make it through the paperwork and lines before I gave in. My husband took me to the ER. I was there for a looooong time, mainly because they thought I had developed a blood clot from traveling such a long distance. What the what? That was not a theory I was expecting. It was mildly terrifying.

In the twelve or so hours I was there, I had all the fun tests: blood, pee, CT scan, ultrasound, and an X-ray. I had three or four different doctors pop in, along with random students and such. I was there long enough to watch someone die, which was just fucking awful. Not for me! No, I felt awful for the dude and for the doctors and nurses that worked for an hour straight trying to keep him alive. I don't even know how they handle that, and since the hospital is central to a lot of high crime areas, I'm guessing they deal with it on an almost daily basis. But I digress.

It was finally decided that I did not have a blood clot, that my problems were probably......mental. Yup. Anxiety. I think I had figured that out a while ago, but when it manifests itself as physical symptoms, you freak the fuck out and panic even more and cause more ailments. It's the circle of LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIFE. So I came home and dealt with it as best as possible. I didn't (and still don't) want to be back on medication, so I started figuring out what would cause my anxiety to rise. I eventually did. Traveling. Of any form.

Ooooh boy.

Exciting story to be continued on the fifth. I can only write about it so much at a time because it is kind of triggering.