|Aug 28 2010|
Today proved my expectations of a terrible day wrong, now that's a change. My mother had to work, so it was just my dad and I, which is usually pretty aggravating.. and I suppose it was fora while. We left the house around 9 because he had a few places he wanted to go. I took advantage of this time out to drop off my bass guitar at the shop to get it fixed up to sell. So we did that and headed off to the other side of town.
My father wanted to go into a large sporting goods store and parked like 10 spaces down from the door. I had to show him closer spaces and get him to move. Once inside, I eased up a great deal. We did a lot of walking, so I just listened to the music they were playing to distract myself. I really like their radio station; Hendrix, Blue Oyster Cult, Eric Clapton, it was awesome. I just walked around singing to it and air-guitaring the only parts I actually knew how to play. It helped ease me up.
After leaving there, he said, "Shit, the gas light is on." This used to scare me, but he is always cheap with gas so the light comes on everytime we go out. Then he said, "It's looking pretty low too, we need to find a gas station." That's when I got paranoid. I was praying hard that the car didn't cut off because as long as I'm moving, I feel like I have a chance. Fortunately the Lord had mercy on this poor Agor and we got the gas.
Now comes the surprise of my day. He decided that he would order 3 tons of gravel to fix up my deceased grandmother's sidewalk, they've done a lot of work to it trying to sell it. I was thinking, sure, why not? So we ordered it and went to her house, it's only 10 minutes or so from ours. We waited and waited some more. It took the guy about an hour to show up with it. In the meantime, I talked the the neighbor boy who I've know all my life. While we would talk, my dad would grab a beer and wander a long ways off and I'd have to call him back. Once or twice, I found myself at least 60 yards from him and my friend who would run to his house and back for things. I'd just sit there alone trying to stay calm.
Finally the gravel came and my friend ran off to avoid the work. I had to push the wheel barrow and dump it, which made my pulse rise. I was terrified. I was hot, sweaty, nervous, barefoot (but that was my choice, I prefer it that way), I hated it. We took and break and I sat in the shade experiencing waves of anxiety, very much on the edge of an attack. I would talk to distract myself and pray. Then, a breeze picked up and cooled me off. It was such a relief from the heat, and it persisted the whole time we were there. After a while, I felt no anxiety. I just did the work. I suppose I had already worn myself out and had no extra energy for nerves.
I don't understand that. So often I go through "close calls" where I am thinking for certain that I will have an attack, but I rarely do. Not the kind I'm worried about anyways. The attacks I'm afraid of are the ones where I feel like I'm in a dream (or nightmare). Or the ones when my heart won't slow down and I can't calm down, I keep getting scared and making it beat faster. But I haven't had one of those since 2008. I've thought about why that might be, that I had them so bad back then.
When I first started having attacks in 2008, they were closely related to my lack of understanding concerning my health. When I went to the hospital one night after having an attack, they told me my blood pressure was too high and prescribed me meds for it. I thought that my blood pressure was the cause of my problems. When I'd have an attack, I believed that it was health-related and that something was wrong. So I didn't have the understanding I have now. I'd just have a feeling, run from it thinking I was dying, heart raced and I'd get even more afraid, heart would go faster, eventually after I'd lay there on the floor for a while in sheer terror, it'd ease up and I'd realize it was an attack. Then when I got my blood pressure under control (switching meds) they went away. I found out later that the first meds had a side-effect that included anxiety, which explained why I was nervous almost 24/7. So I thought I was cured and went on my way doing things I hadn't previously done.
Then when they came back, I knew what they were from the start. That's when agoraphobia set in and I'd do anything I could to avoid leaving (I still do at times). But the attacks were never as bad as the old ones since they came back. I guess because I don't keep scaring myself because I know I'm not dying. They've gotten bad before, of course, otherwise I wouldn't still be scared of them, but the bad ones are rare. Usually it's just a feeling of no escape that brings up panic, no escape from the attack. Then once I get distracted, it goes away. I believe it's the worrying about the attack that's hardest on me now. It's what keeps me inside, makes the world seem empty and evil.
I guess that's all I have to say for now. Thank you for reading. Hope you all are doing well today. God bless you all and take care
Oh Woe Is Me. lol
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