My anxieties are at an all time high, and it’s more than just an overwhelming feeling now. I never had anxiety issues in my life, but brain surgery certainly changed that fact.
For a while my anxiety just snuck up and tapped me on the shoulder as if to say, ‘Pssst aren’t you worried you are going to be hit by a blinding pain while alone in Target and just fall out?‘ I have always been able to push that voice aside and rationalize my fear as normal for someone in my shoes. I simply tell myself it is ok to feel that way, and all will be fine (plus I always have a plan if all is not fine).
A person cannot suffer the way I do, and experience issues like mine without some form of anxiety… My doctor even says it’s common and expected. I have gotten really good at managing any thought that enters my head by simply acknowledging its existence as normal. I can cope just fine…like I have for the past several effing years!
Lately it has been less of a shoulder tap, and more like a pachyderm sitting on me. I’m physically feeling my anxiety levels rise now. I know it is because of mounting issues returning. I can fully understand and pinpoint the causes, but I cannot prevent the physical manifestations any longer. Mentally I get it, but I cannot convince my body that it is under control. I have had to try incredibly hard to keep breathing under control, and to steer myself back to physical comfort (I won’t use medicine). The point is – I am fully aware of what is happening and why! So why won’t this pachyderm leave me alone and quit sitting on my chest?
Everything happens at once. I hate the idea that I have to go back to Hopkins, and that more problems need addressing. It’s obvious that answers need to be uncovered for me to simply function on a remotely normal level (that pill keeps getting harder and harder to swallow). I help myself by working on a game plan and preparing for the next phase…I am a control freak after all and must have a plan A, B, and even C. I feel better when I have some navigational control of this train load of crap.
I truly believed this chapter was behind me.
I have begun to wonder if my keeping the ole’ chin up, staying quiet in an effort to not burden others, and internalizing much of my experiences has contributed to the rise in anxiety. Writing about it seems to calm me a bit, and I feel as if someone is remotely understanding out there. All I know is – to quote my mother – I am a train wreck.