Archive for panic disorder


Posted in anxiety with tags , , , , , on June 24, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Prior to taking a 1mg Xanax, I was lethargic, jittery, and had no motivation.

I took 1 mg and suddenly found clarity and energy. I accomplished some piddly things, some froufrou things like make up (though in this humidity, it seems futile) and I don’t feel the least bit tired.

Everyone I’ve talked to says they opted for Klonopin or whatever because Xanax made them too sleepy.

It does not make me sleepy.

It calms my mind enough so that I can stop spinning my wheels and advance to a better mental space. Especially at the higher dose. This is why I call them my sane makers. Prior to this, I was shaky and low and paranoid and a little…scared. Of what, I don’t know, but that’s what makes panic disorder a bitch. You panic for no apparent reason thus it is a disorder.

One little pill and I get a refreshed outlook on everything.

Even my previously 404 missing will to live has suddenly been replaced with a little zest to get through the day in a better frame of mind and without my sole focus being sleep.

I don’t know how any reputatable, intelligent doctor could villify such an amazing medication that boosts quality of life so drastically. It seems rather than protecting me by cutting my dose to very little, they have done me more harm than good. I wish I knew how to make them see this.

But that would require them to stop with the one size fits all treatment mentality and treat us like individuals.

Sad statement about mental health care when your desire to be treated as the individual you are is as unlikely as pigs flying.


Wait List

Posted in anxiety with tags , , , , , on June 22, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

I am on edge, due to waiting for my kid to return from her grandfather’s. Dad already called me to see if I was still in town so I could fetch her at the auction they took her to, she’s antsy. Ha ha, welcome to my world, bitches. I somehow got roped into driving my brother to town since they weren’t home and I just think it’s fucking stupid. He’s about to turn 24, the state gave him a license, they bought him and a truck and insured it…Let him go be a grown up so I can stop being unpaid Uber. Yes, that’s right, they decided since they helped mow the lawn that all he has to contribute is occasionally buy my kid a burger or fries. Nothing for me, just a burger or fries for her. For $15 a week in gas.

Yeah, I guess I have reason to be edgy. I’d wanted a break from going in town but I didn’t get one and it cost me gas money. What a waste.

He said they bought her a few ‘tubs’ of stuff, which I am dreading because we are already in too little space chaos (no one understood why we had a 3 bedroom trailer when it was just us, well, THERE, we needed the storage space for all the crap they drag over to us). I just want her home so we can resume our normally scheduled programming. Sure, it’s stressful the way she talks non stop and is always fussing about boredom, but it beats never knowing if they are going to crash my door dragging in more stuff I don’t have space for. (A house with no closets does not have ‘storage’ space.)

This waiting leads to panic attacks. I’m already a dose in to my sane maker, so I can’t really take another one for awhile. The last of the daily stingy allotment courtesy of the benzo nazis. I know it seems disrespectful to call them that but it’s fitting. Hitler targeted people due to their faith and his perception that they endangered his idea of a master race. This center and their doctor are targeting Xanax because some idgets are hooked on opioids. Same fucking mentality. Oh, and I am not belittling addiction to painkillers, I know it’s a serious problem and people deserve empathy. But my empathy dries up when their choices dictate my medication dose as opposed to it being dictated by my needs and my own ability to monitor my usage. So, yeah, benzo nazis it is, sorry, not fucking sorry.

When I am edgy, I get ranty. I don’t like it, it makes me feel like Ms Meanie Pants. If I am being a bitch it should be true anger, not anxiety. But until they return my spawn and our regularly schedule programming resumes, I’m a breath from a panic attack, ready to climb walls cos…I hate waiting. For anyone or anything. Because it caused anxiety and I fucking loathe anxiety.

Zero fucks are given by those around me.

One day they will pay for their skepticism. I believe in karma. One day all their doubt about the severity of my disorders is going to bite them on the ass, somehow, some way, someday.

IU’ll work on trying not to gloat, but no promises.

Highway To Hell

Posted in anxiety with tags , , , , on June 18, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Near meltdown on the highway driving my kid in to camp. I smelled something off, and of course, my brain automatically starts checking gauges, looking for smoke coming from the car hood, etc. It was like the earth dropped out from under me, I just had bolts of panic impaling me, and became so light headed and dizzy, I almost had to pull off the road. I had to turn the radio down which displeased Spook but I thought the car was making a funny sound, too…

It is maddening how disconcerting a simple drive to town and back has become for me. I obsess over the sound of tires on the pavement. I stare at gauges, thinking oh no, heat gauge is moving up too far…which it does in town because my engine sits oddly and I have to kick on defrost to get the fan cooling it…But since all the other gauges are effed up, I live in terror that another one has gone out, so how do I even know if my heat gauge is right? Or if I am going 55 when it feels like I am only going 40 but that’s because I didn’t drive out of town for two days so now I have some fucked up sense of motion and speed. And what about tires? I have a spare and a half ass jack but I’ve never changed a tire in my life because I am so clumsy the notion is TERRIFYING. It’d be just my speed to not tighten the lugnuts enough and the wheel would come off at 65 mph and kill me….

I am spinning out. Maybe because I went 18 hours without a dose of xanax.

I am TRYING to abide by their nazi benzo rules but it isn’t helping me in the least. Foregoing a viable med that improves my quality of life to appease their fear of lawsuits seems cruel and unusual, to me.

Crap, now my nose is itching, someone is gonna call or come by. Damn my mom for instilling such idiotic superstitions in my brain. More like she installed them against my will, not instilled them. They seem believable when you’re in freefall panic mode.

I surmise I would not have been avoiding my morning med dose had I not been scared it’d cause me to nod off and make Spook late for camp. 99.9% of the time xanax does not make me sleepy. But since I’ve been up since 1 a.m. I wasn’t willing to roll the dice and face her wrath. She is a very wrathful child.

Needless to say I was in such a hurry to get home to my safe space and medicate, I did not fetch groceries. I’m feeling fragile and nothing good comes out for forced functionality when I am in this state. Time to regroup, fuck immersion therapy. It may work for some but it’s only ever made my fears metastasize.

These panic attacks that were almost gone when I was at 1mg three times a day of xanax, they are back and worse than ever. Behind the wheel of a moving car is NOT the place to go that whoozy and dizzy suddenly. I’d say, well, I just need to get back to working the phone and try to find a new shrink out of town but frankly…it’s been a disheartening search, trying to find someone who accepts both insurances. I know, that makes me sound ungrateful, I have primary and secondary insurauce at least-but ONLY because of the disability grant. Otherwise I’d have fuck all. And just because you have it does not mean it meets your needs. I sure as hell am not in the position to foot $150 cash per 20 minute med check. Cos without both insurances accepted, that’s what I’d be facing.

Another day.

I just gotta get calmed down and maybe get some rest. Things will look better if I can come out the other side of this exhaustion and panic.

I don’t see how it could look any worse at the moment. The paranoia is in play and anxiety with paranoia is a highway to hell all in its own.


Posted in anxiety, depression with tags , , , , , , on June 16, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

My 4 hour nap yesterday evening equaled being awake, tossing and turning, agitated by spinning thoughts, until almost 5 a.m. I slept an hour here, got up, nodded off for an hour there, then another hour. Three hours sleep, tops, but in interrupted segments it may as well have been no sleep. Another gloomy day has my mood in the gutter and the lack of real rest has me feeling shaky. I don’t know how to explain it except mounting panxiety. Over what? A trip to town to fetch my kid and maybe a stop at one or two stores for batteries and laundry soap.

It baffles me how random anxiety is. This is something I do once a week at least usually, go to town for supplies, yet today it feels like this ominous throbbing event of doom. I loaded up on anti anxiety sane makers but they are not really helping alter the mind frame. It feels…ominous. I wish to god I could explain why. The doctors and counselors always want to know WHY so they can shove mindfulness down your throat. Well, newsflash. Real anxiety disorders don’t have a why. It is random and grueling. It makes you feel unsettled, rattled, and weak. When feeling this way, the last thing you want to do is go face the petri dish of humanity and traffic because you already feel like the soft underbelly is on display for predators to attack.

It sounds nuts, I know. It is sadly my reality.

Hopefully the naggies will let up, the anxiety will die down, and I can just go get done what I need to get done and get home without incident. I’ve had the bad juju thoughts before. Sometimes warranted, other times asinine. I never know what it’s going to be until I venture out and face the gauntlet.

It would be so much less self loathing if I ever read other blogs that discuss such free floating anxiety and paranoia and mounting panic. But I don’t. I don’t think people even in mental health section care to discuss mental health, which turns in into a early 2000’s yahoo chat room. Very disheartening. I just want to know it’s not only me, that these thoughts aren’t exclusive to me. It is starting to look like they are, though, which means my brand of fucked up just metastasized and I feel more alone than ever. Especially with an unsupportive and apathetic NP who just wants to get me medicated and out from under her feet, using as few meds as possible, never mind how I am really doing.

Mental health issues are the cruelest cut of all because it’s not enough to just feel these whacked out terrifying thoughts…you have to do it alone, all on your own, without any support system or commiseration.

That makes life lonely even for a loner who finds socialization too stressful and challening. I just want to know that I am not alone on this one.

I Faced The Devil Today…and Pitied Him

Posted in anxiety with tags , , , on June 14, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

One of the hardest things for me, having such a severe panic disorder, is facing confrontation or what could become confrontational. In the past I have let it turn me into a submissive hider who just avoids the situation. And sometimes, I still think that is a viable option. But this time…NOPE. Permission to reduce me to the submissive personality I am not was denied. It had nothing to do with being cured or the depression and anxiety being mild or gone. I literally had to have melatonin and only one store’s brand works. I knew it ran the risk of seeing the donor and kind of hoped I wouldn’t. But he was there.

I grabbed my two bottles and stood in line. He saw me and mumbled hi. I said hi with a smile. I thought missing his long hair he’d look heinous but turns out, he has a decent short haircut. What struck me is how beaten down he seems. For a moment, I almost felt sorry for him. He used to be very outgoing, sort of friendly, and I just got this ‘living dead’ vibe today. Even with the customer in front of me.

My heart was richeting off the walls of my chest, of course. Panic is like that. I never know what will come out of his mouth. Usually it isn’t to ask about Spook, and that always sets me off. I mean, he should have been eager to ask, right? Nope.

The lady in front of me had a bunch of stuff so a manager checked me out on a different lane. I tried to figure out if he hit some sort of panic button to bring her out so he could avoid interacting with me. Because he is a coward that way and can’t even blame an irrational panic disorder. But it got me out of there and I left, feeling like, nothing horrid happened and frankly, even if I have gotten fluffy, I still have a face that looks ten years younger and I am not all hunched over, beaten down, and I still have my vibrant personality.

So the worse thing I can do for him is the only thing I can muster for him. Pity. Just…pity. Because he left me holding enough responsibility for ten people and if anyone should be hunched over and beaten down and subdued, it should be me. But I am not. I am struggling, for sure, but when I am ‘on’, I manage. I can fake cheeriness and sometimes even mean it.

But I sincerely pity him, as a human being, because it looks like all his heartless shitty choices are weighing him down. Personally if I’d just spent the better part of a year unemployed, living off a girlfriend, not supporting my kid, I’d be damn happy and cheerful to finally have a job. I’d likely go out of my way to be cheerful whether I felt it or not because customers don’t come in for the sad sack experience. He can’t even rally for that. Maybe Spook is better off without him dragging her under.

Rich, coming from the high strung depressive who is likely stunting her emotionally, eh? Meh. She’s fine, the pedicatrician, the ped Np, the ped counselor, and all the camp people say what a wonderful girl she is, such a good girl. So maybe I am a hot mess (Oh, wait, it’s not 2005, can I still say that without losing cool points? Idgaf.) but it’s not hurting my vibrant child. Her only issue seems to be some sort of oppositional defiance against me and frankly…I still rebel against my parents at 46 so I can’t throw stones too far or often.

But yeah…I faced the devil and you know what? I just feel sorry for him. Not in a forgiving way because Spook is the one he has hurt the most and there is no forgiveness there. But in the ‘ex living the best’ contest…No matter how bad I feel at times, I am still not the beaten down puppy that he is.

That’s a win.

Now I wonder what he will tell them to try and get me banned. You think I am ridiculous but he once had cops escort his ex away from his job when she showed up at quitting time to bring him his ulcer meds. He is deranged.

Not in the cool way I am deranged, either. He wishes.

Can’t Shake It Off, Sorry, Taylor Swift

Posted in anxiety with tags , , , , , , on June 10, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

It has been two hours since I left my kid at the day camp and had the near miss with the other car in town. I thought some meds and time would calm me down. Instead, I am wound tight as a guitar string. Still paralyzed by the deer in the headlights feeling that if I move around, something bad will happen. You need not tell me how ridiculous this is, I am aware. Panic disorder just doesn’t care about logic or rationality. Not shaking this off the way I had hoped.

At least I took my lower dose Abilify and the crawling bugs sensation isn’t too bad. Unfortunately, the akathesia (excessive restlessness and movement for no reason) is still here.

I am working on feeding myself.Lately I’ve been eating very little, saving what little food we have for the week for Spook. Guess it’s a good thing neither of us have huge appetites during warmer weather. She’s pissed that we have no sweets but I told her no one ever died without them. I have a cake mix but turns out, she snuck behind my back and ate a whole can of frosting then blamed the cats then fessed up. Not amused. I prefer cake without frosting, honestly, but she does not. Oh, well, that is all the sweet options I have and maybe not even that, I am almost out of oil and eggs. Geesh.

Ugh, I can’t get out of this headspace. It’s pure panxiety. (Paranoia, panic, and anxiety rolled into one.) I want to shake it off but I can’t seem to. So I will feed myself my burned corn dogs courtesy of the ancient ‘does not have temperature settings’ oven so I don’t get sick from the meds.

I am waiting to catch a break. If not for my sake, for my safety. My kid is volatile and as long as I can get her to the day camp two days a week for swimming and field trips, I think she will be ok. But that still takes gas. So…you know the drill. Donate, repost, share, comment with encourging words. Anything but radio silence, people. If you can click like, you can say hello, hang in there. I really need to hear it right now. NO, I don’t like being needy and insecure but it’s where I am at now.

Once again, I wanna yell CALGON, TAKE ME AWAY.

If you’re too young to get that reference, Google it.

Second Hand Anxiety, Part 4,592

Posted in anxiety with tags , , , , , , on June 10, 2019 by morgueticiaatoms

Yeah, I just pulled that number out of thin air because I’ve had so much second hand anxiety. Like when the ex was looking for work and I’d get nervous if he had an interview or whatever. Now my kid is starting camp and she is excited as hell.

Day Camp for Spook

I am filled with trepidation. Obviously I would not be awake at 3 a.m. if I weren’t in a tailspin of sorts. That and the cat woke me up with walking on my face to remind me they are all hungry. That makes me feel shitty but I am doing the best I can, ffs. If I were out blowing money on manicures and dope, I could see no one wanting to toss in a fiver or whatever. But I am not. Every cent has gone into shelter and power and food and personal supplies, like toilet paper and shampoo and my meds. And we use bargain basement products but it all adds up when your ‘excess’ income is less than $55 after all bills are paid.

It can keep you awake at night. Especially knowing I may not be able to pull off more than a week of this camp for her due to a 38 cent state increase in gas tax. It’s already $2.99 a gallon and the tax hasn’t been added yet. I am so bloody sick of nothing ever improving. This all started with a scummy landlord forcing us to move and a selfish grown ass man who is now heading toward $7000 in child support arrears. Dear god, if you won’t donate, can you at least aim your hate mail at him? He doesn’t support her in any way, so if there’s evil and moochery here, it’s him cos he lives off his girlfriend and can’t even show up for a visit with his kid. I am tired of being the greedy villain when we are just trying to survive in spite of everything going against us.

Ok. I better start saving my phone data cos god knows once my 2 gb is gone, I don’t have money for a card to get more. God, let this open interview thing go well today. Because my self esteem cannot be much lower. I need a small win.