I don't want this to be a 'symptom diary.' That's dull, and self-indulgent, and doesn't make for good writing. This, primarily, is why I haven't posted a bean since last week. But I need to write about my day, which frankly, has been a nightmare from start to finish. Please, do feel free to skip.
I honestly think that the worst kind of panic attack one can have is the one that is already underway as you open your eyes to face the day, because that particular type does not afford you the time or luxury of practicing any of your coping skills; it's faster than the speed of rational thought.
I suspect that my recent ridiculous bout of insomnia may be to blame - over the past two weeks or so, a typical night will see me finally dropping off at 3.30, 4, and waking at 8 - combined with low blood sugar from not eating dinner last night and the three day migraine I've had this week, which has necessitated enough painkillers to potentially stun an elephant - most of which contain entirely unhealthy doses of caffeine, because they're the only ones that touch it. It's a trade off, a difficult balancing act; I know the caffeine will almost instantly kill the pain, which at times is unbearable and leaves me pathetically crying into a pillow, and so I gamble, and weigh up the relief I know it will bring with the possibility of it resulting in a day like this.
Sometimes I get away with it. Today, I put all my chips on red, and lost.
Big time.
I knew I'd have to leave the house in the midst of it, to buy food, to solve the low blood sugar problem, so steeled myself to deal with it; I put on my heaviest boots, possibly in the hope that they might anchor me to the ground. And then I realised. My phone. Not charged. Not good. Fuck. No other option but to go without it.
My phone is my safety net. I can handle most things if I have my phone. Some things. With my phone in my hand, I know that when it gets unbearable, help is just a three digit call away. The morals of this are still up for debate, I know. But still. I need my phone, and today, I didn't have it.
I lasted about 30 seconds before my head exploded.
'Oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god' went my brain, as I stumbled my way to the biscuit aisle.
'Oh god oh god oh god please hurry please hurry' went my stupid internal voice as I saw the three people in front of me at the checkout who were about to unnecessarily prolong the agony; the embarrassment of having to explain why I would be asking to nip in front keeping me at the back of the queue.
'Oh god oh god oh god oh god' , screamed my head, as I felt my way along the wall in the alleyway, the one that leads from the Co-op to my house, wondering what the hell God would do about it anyway.
Lather, rinse, repeat.
I don't really remember getting home, but I must have done, because I'm here now. Or am I? I don't feel safe, so...
This afternoon I slept, and woke up in much the same state. (Toxic naps. File under 'unexplainable phenomenon'. Alternatively, label 'a pisser'.)
It's all about hiding, really. I kept up the act for long enough to welcome my new flatmate, staying away from the hospital only because I didn't want to have to explain it and embarrass her. Retreated back into the bedroom, still uncomfortable even in my comfort zone. Retreated into things I know and love, the things on my computer, chasing cars around my head, things I know will make me smile, things that dull the pain.
I feel so defeated. Useless. Cursing my biology. Toxic, empty, numb but for the burning muscles and creeping anxiety. Exhausted, but afraid to sleep. Days like this are incomprehensible. I don't understand them, and I don't understand why I need to. If I had the ability to do so, I'd probably cry.
Eventually, when I've watched enough cars and cocking about to lull me into sleep (it's a harmless addiction, and one that hurts nobody), I'll shut my eyes and hope that it'll be gone when I open them again, or if not, that it'll be at least manageable for a while, that there will be a few open windows, allowing me to breathe the same air as everyone else.
I'm going back to work on Tuesday. As it stands, I'm not sure about coping with it, and so, I haven't yet signed the contract, because what if I can't?
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2 comments:
*hugs* I sympathise with the supermarket, hon. It's all I can sometimes do to not insult the cashier who takes twice as long as it should to scan my advantage card.
Ness xx
It's not much, but at such times you have to cling to something ... and the something to cling to here is that this is one incident, one moment. You can do this at other times, and you have done.
It's human nature to get up and try again. If we didn't, we would stay in bed all day hiding under our duvet (which, admittedly, doesn't sound like a bad option, but, er, please ignore that suggestion).
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