Yesterday was hard y’all! You just don’t even know.
Blain asked what I was blogging about yesterday as I was typing it out. I told him I needed to talk about my anxiety, I had already told him earlier that I could feel it creeping in, but I don’t think he fully understood what I was trying to say. Once I was done with the post, he asked how I was feeling and I just said “I don’t know, just anxiety ridden, a little depressed and overwhelmed.” and then I started to cry for no damn reason. He sweetly enveloped me in a nice, big, warm hug, suggested I take a Xanax and laid me down on the couch, covered me with a blanket and I immediately passed out for about two hours. You’ve got to understand that Blain has not always been so good about dealing with my anxiety. In the past few months he has understood it much better.
Right before my crying jag, I was able to hold myself together long enough to call my doctors office. The nurse said they would be able to give me a 30 day sample supply of Lexapro. Thank Jebus! So on my way to work last evening I picked it up and got back on schedule this morning. I am feeling much better, but I did have doozy of a panic attack today.
We had an appointment in Atlanta this morning. I’d rather drive spikes up my nostrils than drive into ATL. I sufficiently drove Blain crazy on the way there with the usual gasping, grabbing my oh-shit handle and pressing on my passenger side brakes…he still has little patience for that part of my anxiety. As usual he delivered us into the guts of hell safely and we made it to our appointment. As we are sitting there I hear sirens in the distance and as I look out the window of this office building I see a small white sedan speed past, quickly followed by not just one police car on his ass, but no less than six in a row. My heart skips a few beats and then Blain is nice enough to point out that we can now hear a helicopter above us. Nice, but I am still relatively OK, nice and safe on the second floor of this office building. Our meeting continues for about another hour and I have forgotten all about it.
As we walk out to the sidewalk to circle around the building and walk a million miles down the road to our car it is obvious that the situation is not so over, the helicopter is still above us and only about a block or two over. I fight the instinct to run madly back into the building and learn that I can walk pretty damn fast in some heals. Blain on the other hand, apparently feeling a surge of testoserone, feels the need to stop and gap at the situation. I see a flash in his eyes that says “hmmmm…we should go take a closer look at this”. I say very loudly, “Oh hell no, fucker! Walk faster and start clicking the damn clicker to let me in the damn car! We are getting the hell up outta here!”
By the time we get in the car, I am in full blown panic survival mode. Hyper ventillating, shaking, the whole nine! As we pull out onto the main road an ambulance goes roaring by, which makes a tractor trailer jam on his brakes mid-turn causing a great booming noise that literally made me jump out of my skin.
Blain looks at me like I have lost my mind. I just shrug my shoulders, let out a nervous giggle and ask him to get on the freeway and away from here quickly. Within a few miles I am fine again.
Why? Why does that kind of shit need to happen to me today, when I have to go to ATL?
The anxiety attacks are exhausting…the panic attacks wipe me out! Physically draining.
Why am I so afraid of bad things happening to me, to my family? I remember when i first had Tal, I had a recurring dream that she was falling into a hole in the ground. It would wake me up in a cold sweat. That probably explains why I dont’ remember my dreams much any more, like I used to. Maybe my anxieties play out in my dreams and it is just so much easier to ignore them. Maybe that is how I stay some what sane. Who knows?
One more why…Why do I get anxious when men (especially younger guys) come into my scrapbook store, without a female? They don’t belong here! It’s scrapbooking for God’s sake. It’s woman’s territory. That’s like a woman going into a store dedicated to male maturbation. I have to trick Blain into going into a place like that, he would never voluntarily go in himself. My first thought is always, “What do they want, are they trying to rob us or did they hear this would be a great place to pick up women?”
I have a very vivid imagination!
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