Anxiety: Part Two

I've been pushing this post back ever since I published part one of my anxiety story back in 2016, yup thats right. I guess it's about time I concluded my story. If you haven't read my anxiety story part one, I will leave the link for it here if you're interested in reading before getting started on part 2. I was very pleased and surprised by all the wonderful feedback I received. It was very heartwarming. This topic has always been very touchy for me since it is a huge fear of mine to ever have to deal with it again. I don't know how often things will become repetitive here, I apologize. Since so much time has passed I don't remember too many details either. That is kind of my fault also since I'm the kind of person who tries to forget all the bad things I've gone through. It makes it easier for me to heal and move forward with life. I'm going to do my best to share as much as I can remember.

I think me sharing my story on here is a good thing. I can always come back here, read this, and remember how low I was at one point in my life. I had absolutely no control of the way I was feeling anymore, no control of what felt like anything anymore. I felt so helpless. It's so sad looking back now. I've come so far from then even though every day will always be a struggle. It's hard but I try to remind myself that I will not let myself become that girl again. Even though I almost failed at that.

Anyway, continuing from where I left off. The following morning I anxiously went to my Drs appointment. This was early September. I had never felt so eager to see my Dr. like I did that day. My Dr. agreed that I was indeed experiencing sevre anxiety attack and felt that I should see a therapist. I agreed, anything to help me feel better. She gave me a few days off work I believe until I was able to meet with a therapist. Later in the day, I got a call from someone who helped set me up with a therapist. He had asked me a few questions about how I was feeling and regarding my episodes and agreed that my anxiety was at a high point. Luckily I didn't have to wait too long to see the therapist. The day I met with my therapist, I was so nervous and anxious. I remember they had me fill out a sheet of paper filled with questions and you rate them, for example, a 1-10. One-never and ten-always. Most of the questions were about how I was feeling. If I felt motivated, if I felt like a lost cause, if I felt like a disappointment, and if I felt the world would be better off without me. And the end of the questionnaire you add up your points. They made me do this every single time I went in for an appointment. My score was always on the lower side.

My therapist was the absolute best. She was so sweet so understanding and showed that she genuinely cared about helping me get better. We talked for an hour. I told her about my surgery and how that was incredibly scary for me then all the stress I was going through from work. At the end of our session, she gave ended up giving me some time off from work because it wasn't a good environment for me to be in at that moment. She asked me a couple of questions regarding the questionnaire from earlier. I mentioned above how one of the questions was 'if I had ever felt that the world would be better without me in it'. I answered yes. She asked me if I had ever considered suicide, and I told her yes I did. I told her I had thought about it so many times but it wasn't something I could ever actually commit to doing. I was too afraid to even do it. She told me she was going to diagnose me with anxiety and depression. From there, she asked me how I felt about also starting to see a psychiatrist. She added that a psychiatrist would be able to prescribe me medications if I chose to go that route. I went ahead and made an appointment to see a psychiatrist to see how she could further help me. I'm telling you guys I felt like I hit rock bottom and needed all the help I could get.

I continued to have random attacks. I swear there was no cause for my attacks they would just come pay me a visit at the most random time and places. I felt so scared all the time. I never wanted to go out. I never knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to either remain at home or at Rudy's house. Those two were my safe place. I remember this day clearly. It was on a Saturday, Rudy and I were hanging out at my house and he kept asking me what I wanted to do for the day and I had no idea what to do. I remember just laying in bed with no motivation what so ever to do anything. We stayed laying down in bed for about an hour until he finally said: "let's go to the mall and walk around". I felt like a zombie. I remember walking around the mall and I didn't feel like myself. I wasn't myself. It was like I was outside of my body watching myself be zombie like, life-less. In that moment I realized I lost myself and I didn't know who I was anymore. I cried so much and I felt so bad for Rudy too. I could see how bad he was trying to understand and help me. I just didn't have any sort care for anything and it was so hard to accept that and even harder to try and change that.

Sleeping at night became really hard because my own mind was my worst enemy. I would lay in bed for hours some days until 4 am because I just couldn't fall asleep. I would finally fall asleep and I'd be up by 8 am. My mind was constantly running and always telling myself horrible things. I kept thinking whats the point anymore and my mind would pretty much tell me "yup, what is the point". I was scared of everything always thinking what if this will happen or that, my anxiety was controlling me. I was living in constant fear. I also started to have social anxiety. I lost interest in basically everything and I completely lost my appetite.

When I finally met my psychiatrist we went all the way back to when I was a kid about to start kindergarten. That's when I learned I had separation anxiety. I also learned that I always felt like I needed to be strong. I would never let myself break down and that's probably why I was so low. It was all catching up to me at once hitting me full force. She asked me if I would be interested in taking medication for my anxiety/depression. I had just turned twenty-four and having to be on medication for that was scary. So many people were giving me their two-cents and telling me not to even consider it since I was so young... I shouldn't be taking that long-term because it isn't healthy... I was conflicted but I knew I didn't want to feel so anxious and empty anymore. I decided to take medication in hope in finding relief.

I was out of work for a couple of months as I went back and forth with both my therapist and psychiatrist. My therapist suggested that I'd try out group therapy and I was not into the idea. Finally, after weeks of trying to convince me to go, I went to one class. It wasn't as bad as I thought but let's just say that was the only class I attended. I prepared myself and tried to be strong. Once everyone started to arrive I felt so anxious and swore that I was about to pass out. My hands got all clammy my heart was beating like crazy. I felt sick to my stomach and I just wanted to run away. I'm not sure how I got control of myself but I did. I remembered what my therapist told me whenever I start to feel anxious to put my hands on my lap and tap them. One at a time and concentrate on that patting pattern. I think that was what helped.

As the days and weeks went by my anxiety was slowly disappearing. The medication was really helping me but sometimes I would feel like it was coming. Like it was right there hanging on about to begin and then... nothing. It was torturous! I can't remember if my psychiatrist changed my medication or had me take more of what I was already taking but after that, it went away. Things got easier, I was able to distract myself and get my life back a little bit at a time. This was when I began messing around with makeup a lot. I realized how much I enjoyed doing makeup especially Halloween looks. I really stepped outside my comfort zone with it and I got really good at it.

I finally went back to work early December and my psychiatrist had come to a conclusion that work was a huge trigger to my anxiousness and had given me restrictions. I was only allowed to work mornings until 7 pm and I had to give up my manager position. Things got so much better. I ended up cutting out the medication completely and quite sudden. I began to notice I was gaining a lot of weight and rapidly because of it which was a total bummer. I gained back all the weight I had lost and it's been a real challenge to loose weight since then. I don't regret taking the medication because I was in such a low place at the time I was so desprate and needed help to get myself out of that state of mind. I was toxic to myself, well my mind was and the medication helped get me out of that.

Here I am years later and I still struggle with my anxiety. It's never gotten as bad as it was in 2013, although early this year both my anxiety and depression was triggered. It was back for a couple of months and like you'd imagine it was horrible especially since this time I didn't have the comfort of being in my own home. I'm doing a lot better today it's just very hard for me to look back and think about the last couple of months of my life. It's still a very sensitve subject (like all of my anxiety story is) I'm also still trying to deal with it since it was a more tortous situation. I won't touch on this for now. I don't like to get too personal here because at the end of the day it's hard to put of so much of yourself for strangers to read. Maybe some time in the future if and when I'm ready I'll be strong enough to share.

I guess this is where I'm ending this post. I'm shocked I finally brought myself to finish writing this post since like I said I've been pushing it off for a couple of year. Thank you for any of you who actually read this and again so sorry if it's all scattered and doesn't make sense at times.