Well I had intended to post to y’all yesterday September 17th,
2015, but my brain had other ideas.
Yesterday was a bad day. It was
Code Strawberry day. That is my word for
when all hell breaks loose. Living with
Anxiety, panic attacks and whatever else it is that I have, is often
difficult. I often have no warning as to
when or where I will lose my mind. It
has made me kind of a recluse. I am
terrified I will have one of these while I am driving, and suddenly forget how
to drive a car, or get to a place and not know how to get home. The people who are around me know I have a
code word, if for no reason what so ever, I saw STRAWBERRY, my friends know that
I am about to go into an attack. They
know where my medication is, how to administer it to me, how to handle me, who
to call and not to take me to the hospital.
My attacks leave me disoriented and confused, and sometimes unable to
speak. I even carry paperwork with me telling first responders what to do with
me, where my meds are, and not to stick me in the psych ward again. It may take several hours, but it will
pass. The medicine usually helps, but
then I have days like yesterday.
Yesterday I woke up fine.
I’d had a bit of a strong dream in that I was dreaming of Melinda. You will meet her in my later posts. I had been thinking about her before I went
to bed, trying to figure out how best to tell that part of my story. Melinda was not a violent character in my
life, but just another one of those people, who kind of used me and then threw
me to the wolves, after years of a deep friendship.
When I woke up I was disoriented and confused. I felt like I was swimming in molasses. I felt like my brain was processing, but at a
very, very slow speed. I was on dial up
basically. My since of time and reality
was off. I had hoped to shake, whatever
it was, off. I got up and had breakfast,
but it got no better. An hour after I
woke up I decided perhaps it was best I take a pill, just in case. I did not want it to get worse. The pill did not help. Before I knew it I was breaking out the
coloring books, not because I felt anxious and was trying to settle myself, no
it was because I felt like I was about 6 years old.
I knew what kind of animals I had, but I was unsure of their
names. I knew what year it was, where I
was, who I was married to, and that I was living in a larger, older body. I knew I was Ilsa, not someone else. This is not the first time this has
happened. It happened the day I was
hospitalized. It happened a year to the
date, when I had another major attack.
Most of that was brought on by stress I was under with Melinda. But I have also had these attacks where they
were not in context of a panic attack. A
few months after I was hospitalized, I woke up at 4 o’clock in the morning and
suddenly felt like I was 6 years old and wanted to color. And so that is what I did. I went in my altar room, got out my colors
and did that for about 2 hours. When I
was finished I ran to wake Jay up, stifled the urge to jump up and down on the
bed, and woke him up to show the picture I had just colored for him. He told me how wonderful it was, convinced me
I needed sleep and to cuddle under the covers with him. I did.
When I woke in the morning I was fine.
Yesterday I was totally by myself. After I took my pill I called to my
therapist, who was very busy. I told her
I was safe and not a danger to myself or others, and was not going to drive my
car. I said, “I just wanted you to be
able to talk to me in this state.” I called
Jay too. Juno and Kay were not home, or
I would have had them come over and sit with me. After coloring for a while I looked out on
the beautiful day and wanted to be part of it.
But I knew I had to get dressed and take my meds. Two things I was not terribly sure I knew how
to do. But I made it threw and was able
to figure it all out. I grabbed a quilt,
some books from my childhood, water, my cell phone, my sunglasses, and of
course lip gloss. When was a kid I never
went anywhere without my lip gloss. I
spread out my quilt on the grass, in as much of the shade as I could, put my
bag down and then let out the goats and Mr. Henry the piggy. We all happily visited for a while. I texted Jay.
I was amazed that in that state I knew how to use modern technology, but
I did.
As I was laying outside it kind of let go of me and I came
back to myself. I was a bit confused and
disoriented again, as to how I got outside on a blanket. I knew I had done it, but had had little
control over what I did. I had been in
that state for about 4 hours.
I think I was angrier over losing most of my day, as I had
things to do, and the things I had planned obviously, did not get done. At that point I was just exhausted. When Jay came home he ordered me to have a
nap, whether I wanted one or not. When I
woke from my nap I was still confused.
It wasn’t until we had gone to bed last night, and I woke somewhere in
the night, that I felt I was really back to myself.
In the two with panic attacks attached to them I kind of
spent the day growing up. Yesterday I
did not. One moment I felt I was 6 years
old, and ten minutes later I was in touch with my 40 year old self.
I wonder what the hell is wrong with me and if I will ever
get any better? I think part of the
reason I am writing this blog is so that someone can help me and give me a good
definition of what is going on with me both emotional, mentally and perhaps
spiritually. I have no doubt all three
are connected. Now y’all come back and
tell me to get right with Jesus and it will stop, or that I’m possessed, and I
will kick your fucking asses!
If you are suffering from mental illness I encourage you to
have a code word as well, instructions you carry with you at all time, and educate
those around you about what to do with you if this happens. It might save you a trip to the psych ward,
or save your very life.
I hate to say it, but never underestimate the stupidity of
people. My roommate in college had
terrible seizures. She was allergic to
all the medications available at the time, so she would have upwards of 7 Petit
Mals a day. It would never fail. She would go missing for a few days, and then
show back up. I’d ask what happened and
she would tell me she had a seizure walking to class, and woke up in the Psych
Ward, again. She also carried no
identification on her that said she had seizures. The first responders didn’t know what was
happening to her and just thought she was crazy or on drugs, I guess. I don’t want the same for you.
Ilsa
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