~ Anxious anticipation ~

Anxiety Disorders Association of America

Anxiety Disorders Association of America (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

So today was the day, the day I had my phone appointment to apply for ssi and Ssdi both. They are two differant types of disability benefits. So we will see what happens next. I applied on my own in September 2011 and I was denied, since then I have gotten worse. So this time I have an advocate from the dhs office assigned to me, she will be with me through every step until I receive benefits. So that’s pretty cool. In fact she was the one who set up the phone appointment for me, and said that she can come to me for future appointments. That is such a huge stress reliever, god how I dred appointments or meetings. It didn’t matter what I do or say I have a panic attack every time. It doesn’t happen the same way every time, but it never fails to happen. Sometimes it happens in the car on my way there, sometimes it happens in the waiting room once I arrive, sometimes it happens furring the appointment. I don’t understand why it happens to me. It’s so frustrating. It hasn’t always been this bad. I can remember having anxiety in high school when I was in a new group setting or alone someplace with people I didn’t know. For example: a new class or going to the cafeteria by myself. I remember having severe anxiety whenever I was expected to speak I front of the class. I know a lot of people get nervous before a presentation but what happened to me was so much more than the usual nervousness. Days before my turn to present I would start feeling nauseous and dizzy. When I imagined my self doing the presentation I would start shaking, get short of breath , my heart would beat erratically. I felt flushed and like I was going to pass out. I knew I would pass out, if not have a heart attack if I actually did the presentation so I wouldn’t go to class the days I had to present something.
I know every Job I have ever had the “meetings” whatever they were about or how ever big they were it didn’t make a difference. I panic in them. It’s pretty bad too I start shaking my voice gets quiet and sounds crackly. I have a difficult time getting the right words to come out if my mouth, I will say things all twisted up. Like if I tried saying ” there you go” it might come out as ” you there go” . Plus I start shaking, at times pretty hard too, I remember one time trying to write my name on the sign in sheet, when i finished i looked down at it and it was barely recognizable as a name if any kind. All my shaking caused it to look like a bunch of squiggly lines, not letters. I am convinced everyone thinks something is wrong with me, like I’m retarded, I actually hear people laugh and whisper. I know that it’s about me. I usually get paranoid that my breath stinks so I avoid talking and h
Chew a lot of gum.
Over the years it has gotten worse for me. Now I have been told I have agoraphobia. So my anxiety of social situations has progressed to the point where I am now having an extremely difficult time leaving the house at all. I avoid leaving in fear of having a panic attack.
Anxiously anticipating when I will have a counselor that will be coming to my home, so I can’t panic my way out of the appointments, and can finally start working through some of my issues.

~Second time~

My sister seems to come to my rescue quite often. Kinda funny considering Im older. She has always been the more responsible one. So when I need to be “mothered” she’s right there mothering. I will blog more about this later lol.
This was no exception I had lost my mind and she was frantically driving me towards a Portland hospital so I don’t kill myself. I don’t think I was really suicidal but If I could have wished myself dead I would have. I was too emotionally battered to have a “plan” or put any real effort into killing myself.
But due to past attempts I think it’s always in people’s minds.
The first hospital sign we came to was about 20 min before Portland. She took that exit and walked me into the Er. I willingly checked in and was being honest with the staff about what was going on and I was ok with everything until I asked if I could have a cigarette and they told me no. My whole attitude changed I was pissed and wanted to leave. But surprise it’s too late you have been put on a 72hr psych hold. You can’t leave. You can’t smoke. You are being transferred to another hospital, in Portland, with an open bed. That is set up for psych patients.
I remember the nurse bringing me a nicotine patch, I ripped it off and threw it. I wanted to shut my door and she said it needed to stay open. I remember slamming it shut every time she opened it. I remember her bringing in a hospital gown and telling me I needed to change. I told her no. She said you have to, we can do it the easy way or the hard way (calling the cops to hold you down as we do it for you) I said fuck that I will change. I yanked the gown from her and she just stood there. I told her “u can leave I said I would change” she said actually I can’t. I said ” you have got to be joking, you have to fucking watch me?” I couldn’t imagine it being anymore humiliating.
Since this hospital was not equipped for psych patients they put you in a room that is all windows directly in front of the nurses station. So they can watch you.
She offered me Ativan. I took it. I was aloud to have it every hour while I was waiting for transport to the other hospital. So I made a scene for it every hour on the hour. How else was I going to survive this?
After what felt like a life time, transport arrived. I was so happy to leave that hospital, and that nurse who I think enjoyed tormenting me. I really didn’t know what to expect next.
  I remember being scared and wanting to go home, and at this time  I still wasn’t sure where home was, and that scared me even more. I arrived at the hospital at.bed time………..more to come

~FIRST TIME~

    After pissing everyone in my family off and my failed attempt to help someone who I believed really needed it, I gave up. I had become this pathetic shell of a person there was nothing left inside of me. Emotionally, Physically, and spiritually I was defeated. I don’t know how my whole world managed to flip upside down without me noticing but,I didn’t care anymore. I was tired of caring. I was tired of being let down, and tired of being tired. So I checked myself into the hospital..
        I made sure I didn’t tell anyone where I was going, I even told the hospital staff not to let anyone know I was there. I  went as far as packing a suit case and dis rummaging through things in my room to throw them off. Pretty dramatic, I know.
      . I wanted everyone to worry. I wanted them to suffer because I was suffering. Can’t someone please make it all STOP??? I had to get away from everyone and everything. I needed to be as far away from my life as I could get..
              At the hospital, that I put myself into, I spent the whole night cuddled up to the toilet puking. Replaying the past week over and over again in my head. Only coming up for air when  my scheduled ativan dose was due. I avoided talking to anyone, or asking for help. I  knew one of the staff members.(one major draw back of working in the health industry and having a mental illness)
           This induce a little paranoia.  He was possibly still in contact with a lot of people I knew and maybe some I currently worked with. No way I wanted everyone I worked with knowing all the details of my breakdown. Seeing him made it impossible to get any real help. There was no way I would be honest about anything. Even though they say they have all these confidentiality rules, they are not enforced. I know because I have broken many myself.
         Working in healthcare, gave me a pretty good understanding, of what the therapists and doctors, need to hear before discharging  a patient. So after my meds were adjusted to my liking, I told them what they needed to hear and got the fuck out of there. I admitted myself too which made the whole process a lot simpler.


~Why there was a second time~

After leaving the hospital my life just kept getting worse. I thought things were bad before but couldn’t even prepare myself for the following events. Its all really hazy I was going through some major rapid cycling and have a hard time recalling everything, but this is what I do remember.
     The first place I went was back home feeling rather cocky and still not caring what I put my family through. Part of me wondered if they even noticed or cared that I was missing. They did. My Dad was about to file a missing persons report and my sister and cousin had spent the whole time searching for me. Even harassing my friends and Facebook contacts for info. Then I started feeling bad for adding all this extra stress to everyone, but I cant ever do anything right and instead of apologizing to my sister and cousin I just ignored them and acted like I didn’t care.
   
  *My Dad is gay and has been in a relationship with my step-dad for as long as I can remember. They are both equally fathers to me. I usually call them both dad. I am just referring to them as dad and step dad so its easier to follow*

     Shortly after being home I get a phone call from my step dad, he sounded really short of breath. I have never heard him like that. He told me he was being admitted to the hospital and he was worried couldn’t get a hold of my dad. He was being admitted for emergency heart surgery. He had to have a quadruple bypass.
    I remember needing to get to Portland as fast as I could. My sister and I threw whatever we could in the car and frantically drove, not really talking to each other, speeding the whole way from Eugene to Portland
     I remember needing to be there not wanting my dad to have to go through this alone. I knew he was going to be a wreck, i was so scared he wasn’t going to make it. Everyone depends on my step dad so much what would our family do without him?He survived. My dad was a wreck. He didn’t leave the hospital, my sister and I kept having to run to their house and get him stuff. Which I was more than happy to do, because I wasnt ready to go back and see my step dad I didn’t think I could handle seeing him like that.
I kept having flash backs of when my mom died, the Chaplin at the hospital came out and asked if we wanted to say good bye? Or spend time with her body. Not really thinking about it I agreed. I don’t really know what I expected to see, but when I went back there and seen her gray lifeless body on a gurney i froze out of shock, and then just started balling. That is the last memory I have if my mother.
So I was afraid of what I was going to see when I went in my step dads room. Not to mention the stress from my little disappearing act, when I admitted myself to the hospital and didn’t tell anyone where I was, I’m sure contributed to his heart attack. So I was feeling pretty guilty.
It really fucks with your head seeing your parents, the people who have always taken care of you so vulnerable. It was really quite sad, I had never seen my dad that way. He seemed really anxious, scared, very depressed and almost childlike.I really think if my step dad didn’t survive my dad would have died right there in the waiting room.
When I was unable to put it off any longer I went back and seen him. Everyone kept telling me he looked so much better today than he did yesterday so I figured I could handle it. When I seen him, I immediately thought thank god I didn’t see him the day before because I could barely recognize him. His color was off, and he looked really weak. I thought he looked sick. It was pretty overwhelming. I had to hold back tears I didn’t want to upset him.
The amazing thing about my step dad is he is the most loving, caring, person I know. He loves people unconditionally.No pretending to care on his part, he really cares. I think this is a pretty rare trait, and I’m damn lucky he’s my dad. So, as he is laying there recovering from a near death experience, he tells me he loves me and he was worried about me. I couldn’t believe it he almost dies and he still worried about me. I didn’t deserve it.
At the hospital, Step dad still recovering, my sister ended up having to go to the ER with a headache. She ended up having meningitis and could no longer be around my step dad, while he was recovering, so her husband (still having his issues) had to come pick her up.
I don’t remember how long I stayed but I know I was mad she left. I felt abandoned; like I was left to take care of everything and I wasn’t strong enough to be a support for anyone.
So i decided I would contact my dads other daughter ( he didnt raise her,& doesn’t really have a relationship with her) I have only met her once when I was 16, but I was desperate and needed someone. I had nobody to lean on. So I tried making her feel guilty for not being here. After some pretty heated back and forth e-mails she was willing to fly up from California. By now I had calmed down a little and told my dad what I did he said she didn’t need to fly here, so I let her know it wasn’t necessary. Besides what would it have accomplished really? I contacted her because i felt i needed someone to help me get through it and i dont really know her. Shes not a part of the family, not really. She has never really seemed interested. Never been any real effort on her part to get to know anyone. So once again I caused a bunch of unnecessary drama/stress for everyone.
When I make it back to Eugene, I wasn’t going back to that house I shared with my sister. I decided I was going to convince my husband I wanted to work shit out. Just long enough to find a place for me and the kids to go. This should work.he always takes me back.
Things once again didnt go my way. He didn’t want me back. He said he was happy being single. I didn’t believe it. He always wants me.I’m supposed to be the one who doesn’t want him. I leave him, and cheat on him and hes always going to be there, that’s our pattern. That’s the way its always been.Not this time.
He let me stay with him “temporarily” I started moving stuff in anyways because I refused to believe him. We were even sleeping together, he claimed he wasnt sleeping with anyone else, so why would I believe him? I wanted him to want me and me not want him. I figured he was just being stubborn. Trying to teach me a lesson or something. To my surprise he was serious he thought he had moved on and really believed he was done with me.
We have a past of using meth, more details in another post, both of us had been clean for quite a while. I started suspecting he was using. He knew I wasn’t so when ever I asked him about it he denied it. I wanted to catch him. I decided telling him I wanted to get high. I figured if I did it with him then he would tell me the truth about how long he had been doing it.
B So we got high together for the first time in years. I was in love with him all over again (drug induced of course) lol.
I remember going outside with him to smoke a cigarette next thing I know some older lady I didn’t recognize started coming upstairs asking to use the bathroom. She asked me if I was my husbands room mate. Following right behind her was “someone” I did recognize. This “someone” was a friend of a family member. This “someones” children played with my children. Unaware i was there and all giggly she was hopping up the stairs saying she was here to see him because he cant answer his facebook. I cut her off with my response to the older lady’s question.The older lady was this “someones” mother. My response to her quite pissed off was “no I’m not the room mate im the wife”. That “someone” was a bit shaken up, she didn’t expect to see me there. She froze in her tracks and slowly started backing down the stairs.
Her mother was frantically apologizing. Saying that her daughter was a good person. She was told our marriage was over blah, blah, blah.
          My husband looked scared he jumped up to safely escort his girlfriend to safety. Down the stairs, away from me. I was sooo pissed I remember Yelling “Did you tell your little girlfriend we are still fucking?” among other obscenities.  I envisioned myself pushing her down the stairs. I have never wanted to hurt someone else the way I saw my self hurting her. Given more time to react,  minus her mother trying to comfort me/distract me. I would have enjoyed pushing her down the stairs. This thought was quite comforting for me throughout the next few weeks.
              I was shaking uncontrollably. I was damn near convulsing. I was hysterical, I felt so stupid. Why were people  keeping this secret from me.
          When they left, he came upstairs and was pissed off at me for causing a scene. He told me he didn’t want to work shit out and our marriage was over. He wanted me to leave. I refused to leave. I couldn’t stop crying. The pain was too strong. My family that knew what was going on,  let me move my stuff back in with my husband. They let me think it was possible to work shit out. They let me ramble on and on about how good things were going to be this time. Had I known what was  really going on, I would have been able to cope somewhat normally. Instead I was told nothing and left to suffer the ultimate smack in the face.
         He had sex with this “someone” and less than 8 hours latter, still claiming he wasn’t sleeping with anyone else, he let me give him head. When I found out I was mortified. I wanted to die. I felt so sick. All he could say was ” I lied to you because I didn’t want to hurt you. Oh, and  I didn’t cum therefore it wasn’t really sex.”  He was too drunk to get off so in his mind it didn’t count.
         I told him “lying and continuing to sleep with me hurts way more than finding out you are  fucking someone else.” Then he said “its none of your business who I’m fucking we r not together. You left me” I said “your so wrong! If your dick is going in my mouth, I’m entitled to know where it has been. and as far as  “i didnt cum so it dosnt count”
My response was “by your logic, I never cheated on you, and have only had sex with 3 guys in my life”. “Since you have to have an orgasm for it to count.” seriously some of the dumbest shit I have ever heard.
     Don’t get me wrong. By no means am I a saint. I have did some pretty nasty things to him over and over again and he remained faithful to me.  Its what needed to happen to wake me up. Nothing like some good ole’ karma to put shit in perspective.
                At this point I was well aware how I majorly fucked shit up this time. He didn’t cheat on me. I left him, he was right about that.What he did do was lie to me, a really, really big fucking lie. I had still betrayed by him. It still hurt. I didn’t know I could hurt like that.I was completely unaware feelings like that existed. I was literally in pain. I was so miserable.
         I hated myself for hurting him in the past. I could actually relate to what he felt every time I cheated on him and It disgusted me that I  hurt him that bad on more than a few occasions. I hated what he did to me. I hated how he could lie to me so easily. I hated myself for being so damn selfish; and I hated my family for not warning me.
                           I love him more than I knew. I can’t loose him. I won’t lose him.
          Besides there is no way he would want that “someone” over me. She was just cheap, non satisfying, entertainment. She was willing to take her pants off, and he was drunk. Besides he didn’t even enjoy it.
             
     Due to my refusal to leave. He called my sister, my dads, my aunt, my cousin and anyone he thought would be able to talk some sense into me. He wanted to get me out of his apartment.
      Where was I supposed to go? This used to be my home, used to be the place I sought comfort. Now it’s not?? I no longer had a home with my sister. Sure, I can stay with family until I get on my feet…. but, who wants that?
            I was at an all time low, nothing was right. I had lost control of everything.in my life.
My family thought I was nuts because I wanted to be with my husband. I just spent months  convincing everyone what a piece of crap he was, and how I dont love him, now all of a sudden I love him. It is kinda nutty lol.
           After I finished throwing my fit.  I agreed I needed help. So here comes my Sister to the rescue.
 I had her take me to a Portland hospital because I knew someone who worked at the hospital in town. If I went to the local hospital I wouldn’t be able to get any real help, and I really needed something.

~Hospitalized aka Hell~

Imagine. You came for help. You have no rights. You are locked in. You have no privacy. You have no identity. You have no belongings. You know who you are and why you came here. For help right??? Is it really helping?? All the therapists with their oh so familiar dialog. Groups? Time to participate. Time to take your pills. Here is a new pill lets see how it works for you.You try to escape in your mind pretending to be any where but here because any where would be better than being with the people hired to help you. Remember you cant leave until they deem you “safe” so time to start pulling it together. All the smells and sounds everything you see will be forever embedded in your memory you will never escape it. 

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