Tag: mental health

Stress will kill you.

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Last night, I woke up to a panic attack. You know you’re fucked up when you’re stressed out WHILE SLEEPING.

I have found a decent tool to help with panic attacks after a few decades. It’s the simple counting method. I chose 6. So beath in for a count of 6 and out for a count of 6. Repeat until not dead. Last night, I combined it with a variation on breathing into a paper bag.

I just looked it up, and breathing into a paper bag helps restore your CO2 balance which can get messed up when you hyperventilate and breath out too much. Interesting.

A panic attack mid sleep isn’t the best. You can’t lay still when you feel like you’re having a heart attack. For me, I always have to bear my chest because the first thing I feel is my chest muscles clamping down. At least you can lay in bed and cry for an anxiety attack. Husband asked why I did not wake him. You can’t hug pain out.

So I stretched sideways and upward to get my chest as wide as possible and buried my face deep in my memory foam pillow. Then I did the counted breathing. Well, it sounds like I handled it perfectly, but no. I tried the stretching and breathing and it wasn’t working. And I kept just counting but not breathing with the counting. Like just counting to 6 over and over again was a magic spell or something. Took a minute to get my wits about me and just smother myself until it eased up.

its nice that in my 40s, Ive finally found something that legitimately helps me in a panic attack.

Anxiety Attack: Give me hugs and I need a nap.

Panic attack: stretch, controlled counting breaths, maybe buy some paper bags.

Funny though, I got the counting technique from a Nintendo Switch YouTuber who struggles with anxiety. This is why we gotta share our experiences, y’all. 20 years of therapy and I’m using YouTube tips.

Anyway, Sherlock’s house is coming along!

Attack of the Anxieties

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I’ve been known to have anxiety and panic attacks. I take medication for it. Valium, to be specific. One of my friends was amazed at how much valium I take, but I used to be agoraphobic, okay? I’m basically brought to you by psychiatric drugs.

Anyway, today I had a total anxiety attack. It started at work and I knew it was coming on hard so I peaced the fuck out. I teared up a bit in the car and came home to give my sweet husband the hug I needed. He asked what was wrong and I was like I just needed to hug you and the cat. And when I started blabbering the huge amalgamation of what was wrong, one thing stood out more than the rest: mom.

Last night we discussed Mr C’s work trip coming up. Well, mom always visited when Mr C went on work trips. Mom always felt like she was going to be a burden so she was insanely careful not to step on toes. However, when Mr C went away for work, she knew she would be doing me a favor by visiting. I get to spend time with her, she cooks me delicious dinners that Mr C doesn’t like (hello, meatloaf and hamburger steak and canned corned beef sandwiches), and there’s no way she could be bothering Mr C. So she always came up for his work trips. And he’s going on a work trip. And moms not coming.

Of course, Mr C told his sobbing wife that he could cancel. However, him going on a trip isn’t a problem. And of course I could ask a friend (especially K) to come stay with me — but it’s not about having to stay by myself. It’s not him being gone or me being lonely, it’s mom not being here. He’s going to go away and It’ll just be… me. Without momma. We always loved hanging out together when it was just us. Like a little vacation. No more mom. No more little vacations while Mr C is gone. No more momma.

And to make things even more awkward — the day Mr C comes back is the day his parents will be coming to spend the night — on my sweet mommas birthday. Her first birthday when she’s not here. And when I feel like I should be mourning not having my mom — or maybe making a special treat in honor of mom (hello pumpkin cream cheese muffins), I’m going to be celebrating my in laws. It’s going to feel a bit blasphemous. So is Christmas. Christmas in any form will feel blasphemous. She died on Christmas Day. This year is Christmas with the in laws. Ugh. But at some point I’m going to have to suck it up and embrace Christmas again. Just wish it wouldn’t be so soon. Mom LOVED some holidays. So not going all out for the holidays would be a disgrace to her memory.

That said, I did put up Norbert the dragon for Halloween, but I won’t be decorating the inside. I just don’t feel it. I doubt I’ll feel Christmas either.

*sigh* (again, I actually took a deep sign before I typed that).

I do have a lot of anxieties going on right now. Everything running the gauntlet of petty: what if I can’t take the pain of my tattoo and I wuss out? To what if I can’t take the stomach surgery? What if it gets infected or I get botched or I DIE? I’m interviewing for new jobs — two interviews this week. Mr C’s in a hole of despair hating his own job. Work sucks, obviously, for both of us. The lawsuit from my injury is finally coming up and we calculated that if we win the MAXIMUM we can ask, we won’t make enough to cover one of the plastic surgeries — much less a small fraction of what I lost in wages. Not even the gap in the pay cut I took for this new contract. We are not making it out well, and that’s if we win the max. Thank God the lawyer only gets paid by how much we win. And I’ve got a house guest. So I’m anxious about is the house clean enough — does the bedding smell bad? Am I too in her face? I don’t wanna be invasive.

Oh and one of the new friends that had best friend potential — yeah turns out not so much. She supports some things I just can’t look past. I’m so damn judgemental. This is why I only have three true friend peeps.

Anyway, I got out before I cried at work. I came home and hugged my sweetie (the husband, not the cat) and bawled about mom — or more accurately, the lack of mom. Then I took a nap with my cat. Now I’m cathartically writing it all out. Then I’m going to the circus. Yep. But the people kind, not the animal kind. Cheers!

Codependents Anonymous

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I’m going to attended a virtual (zoom) CODA meeting tonight.  That’s Codependents Anonymous.  So this started as me wanting to help a friend attend CODA.  You know, I’d be her support on the way to her support group (Opus and Bill reference, anyone?  Anyone? Eh?).  However, it has turned into, no, Mrs C needs some CODA herself.  I went codependent triangle on Mr C last week and I didn’t even realize that’s what it was.  R > V > P.  Rescuer > Victim > Persecutor > and round and round we go. 

I decided he needed a new bathing suit (because he does).  So I bought him one (which looked better than his) – so yay, I’m a “rescuer.”  Note he never ASKED for a bathing suit nor did he want one ‘cause Mr C is cheap.  I have rescued him and saved him from himself by buying it for him.  Yay me!  But Mr C doesn’t want bathing suit.  Bathing suit is waste of money and he doesn’t even like it.  He’ll never wear it.  Why’s he being an asshole about this? Oh look, I’m the “victim” now.  I bought you a gift, you fucker – and it looks better than your old one, why won’t you just LISTEN TO ME? And now I’m the “persecutor.”  This is how we codependents live our lives.  It’s messed up.  How is it a triangle, you ask?  Well I’m pretty sure later I took him a peace offering of food because I felt like we had a big fight (we didn’t) so back to “rescuer,” baby!  Then, if I was still a codependent mess, I’d have gotten mad that he never does such things for me “victim” and be salty about it “persecutor” – it’s called mental illness, yall. 

I’m sorry, Mr C.  I still think you need a new suit FWIW.  However, there was no winning that situation ‘cause my crazy was already rearing its head.  There was no way for you to politely decline the bathing suit.  I’m sorry.   That was my bad 100%. I realize where I was wrong and that it’s my fault.

Also, I’m trying to forge new relationships with my family since mom died.  She kept us all connected.  Now I have to keep myself connected, because I’m the one who lives out of town.  So I have to make these connections that weren’t there.  I have to call them.  I have to make small talk.  I have to be involved.  And my family is a bunch of codependent crazies (except for my brother).  Like it’s a freaking field of land mines down there.  It’s a clusterfuck.  So I could use a little psychological support to form healthy relationships with good boundaries.  It’s good timing. 

But what if it’s just my codependency that’s making me want to help her?  I thought/think it’s a God thing.  I had written this friend out of my life.  She’s a taker.  But then Mr C had reason to have her drop by.  All the sudden she’s talking about therapy.  So later I feel like I should reach out via text and tell her about the wonder of support groups and how happy I am for her that she’s seeking help.  Now we’re going to CODA together tonight.  Did God make this happen or did my need to rescue people make this happen?  Is that just my self doubt trying to sabotage a God thing?  HOLY SHIT it’s a whole mind fuck. 

Anyway, so that’s happening.