Panic Attacks

I feel really confused- I don’t know where I am going.

It is so distressing to be so far away from everything I have known for so long. All of my belongings are hundreds of miles away. Many of these things are tools I use to help with my conditions. So I am struggling and, tbh, suffering, because I was displaced so far away. I should have never been forced out of my city. Because of trauma and discrimination, I have been cut off from all of my services except two over the phone, which is really inappropriate for the level of care I am supposed to be receiving.

I don’t know what to do because I’m only here “temporarily” and by the time I get through a waitlist, I will likely be relocated or about to be. Since first becoming disabled I have not been without therapy. I never asked for my services to be discountinued. It’s a matter of circumstance and the help I am getting is primarily focused towards fighting medical malpractice with another agency.

No one wants to help. I have gone to everyone that “should” help. Either they don’t believe me or, when I finally get the whole story out, they don’t know what they can do and walk away. It is actually seriously concerning- these are overseeing boards who say there is clearly a problem but won’t/cant do anything- and I have proof where the admitted to essentially medical malpractice. The whole thing has been scary.

All I do is recount to people who don’t do anything. They just hear it. They don’t write it down so I just have to keep recounting it. I physically cannot write it down- my brain is all over the place and I shake. But I have told it so many times that someone should have written it down at some point. Now I am tasked with doing this if I want to do anything else. Despite the fact that it makes me sick- I have to do it.

I may need to seek legal counsel. I don’t want to do this. It will drag on. And it’s going to be hard to get anyone to listen. As I have seen time and time and time again. I don’t know what to do because I don’t even know the outcome I want. As a former school psychologist, I thought I would be able to contact the board and they would at least be required to look into it. But that is not the case at all. Where is the accountability?

#Agoraphobia #PanicAttacks #Anxiety #ComplexPosttraumaticStressDisorder #PostTraumaticStressDisorder #Trauma #MentalHealth #ChronicVestibularMigraine #Migraine #Disability #Spoonie

I can’t keep my mind from racing. #Anxiety #PTSD #Shame #Guilt #overwhelmed #Caregiving #Codependency #Addiction #IntermittentExplosiveDisorder #Fear #ObsessiveCompulsiveDisorder #PanicAttacks #help

Quick update if anyone sees this who has seen previous posts I made:

I am safe. I am staying with my brother and SIL currently. I’ve been here for almost two months.

I have been able to access food because they cook big meals and share with me.

My precious 14 year old dog passed away in the most peaceful way I could ever hopeful. She held on for so long while she waited for me to get safe.

I am really struggling with a lot of symptoms and they interfere constantly with basic functioning.

I am torn between two cities and I don’t have hardly any of my own things. I am working on figuring a lot of things out.

Most importantly… I am continuing to fight the two agencies who violated my rights. I contacted the ADAMHS board again (local mental health board) but I may need to go up to the state level. At least they believe me now. But they “can’t do anything” despite things being “very concerning.” They basically are saying if I don’t seek legal representation, nothing is going to happen to them. So they will continue to give them funding despite me giving them proof of their medical malpractice and me recounting things in explicit detail. This infuriates me; personally and professionally. If there is not accountability, how does a spoonie trust the people responsible for helping them?

At this point- I’m tired of defending my symptoms as actual symptoms to agencies who know these things; I am tired of explaining my symptoms to the people responsible for helping me; and I just want someone to help me through this. Like… an actual doctor who cares and listens and supports and respects and knows something. I’m tired of teaching my health care team when they are supposed to be the experts.

#ComplexPosttraumaticStressDisorder #ChronicVestibularMigraine #Agoraphobia #PanicAttacks

Off and on for as long as I can remember, I have gone through phases that I don’t understand. I have been told that it’s depression, anxiety, bipolar 2, stress, ptsd, attention seeking and even seizures. I have been told that I am just too sensitive or need to grow up or just think too much. Even a spiritual awakening. I have had physicals and bloodwork and ct scans. I have gone to therapy off and on since age 12 and taken numerous medications. But I always end up in the same dark place, lost, weird, confused and off. Not myself. Not how I know I should and can feel. Not my best self. I’m tired of focusing so much on a diagnosis or an answer. I really just want to focus on what I’m actually experiencing and express it correctly. That’s something I’ve never been able to do. As I’ve gotten older I can look back and say that it’s always the same. I recognize this place. I just never connected with myself enough to really describe it. It’s mental, physical, emotional and spiritual. And it ruins my life every time and I think if I could put it in to words, I may have a little more control. A little more chance of rising above it. Or at least not be so overcome by it and know that it does eventually go away. As I’ve said, it’s a phase. I’m not always this way. People who know me can tell before I can that it’s coming. It starts with waking up in the morning to thoughts so loud and overwhelming that I hear them before I’m fully awake, eyes still closed. I’m angry, anxious and confused. My heart is racing and I’m pissed at the world. The thoughts are so mean and cruel. Always negative. I don’t want to face the day. They are about the past or some event that was negative. I am scared. Reminding me that I’m a piece of crap and that the people I love hate me. Reminding me of mistakes. It’s already hard not to believe them when they are so loud and present. My brain isn’t awake enough to choose them or ignore them. They suck me in. They attack me so fully that I become them. I have physical reactions. I become shaky, tense, on guard, dizzy, disoriented and like I’m not even in my body sometimes. I also get strange sleep disturbances around the time this begins. I’m woken up from my sleep by electric zaps in my body, feeling like I am vibrating, sleep paralysis accompanied by a dark shadow that chokes me. I don’t want to be bothered by anyone. Things from the past that I swore I was over come busting through my memory and feel like they are happening again. I get angry and scared all over again. I feel worse because I don’t want to be mean or grumpy. Now I’m a mean person. People ask me what’s wrong. I don’t know. That’s what I always say. I just want to be left alone with my thoughts, stuck in my head. I can control them. I just have to ignore them and let this pass. But my reality gets more and more distorted. The things in my mind are partly true. They aren’t lies. They are related to real events that actually happened. They are reminding me that I am not worthy and that the world isn’t safe and that I am not loved and everything is bad. I try to fight. But my mind closes in around me and suddenly I can’t trust anything anymore. Except these thoughts. They are my friends. I don’t realize I am holding my breath and walking fast and not looking at anyone. Just leave me alone. I will hurt you and you will hurt me. I usually have at least 1 panic attack during these phases that causes me to pass out. I can either cry at the drop of a hat because someone looked at me wrong or suddenly get so offended by something that I lash out and want to fight someone and actually have. When that happens the surge of adrenaline that hits my body scares me. But I black out and don’t remember anything until I’m being pulled off the other person. I isolate, I push away, I give up. In school my teachers would notice this and be concerned. My grades fail. I stop being friends with my friends. I break up with whoever I’m in a relationship with. You can’t ever trust a man anyway. I dropped out of college where I had a full scholarship. I suddenly quit great jobs. I’m usually abusing drugs or alcohol just to feel calm and relaxed physically and not care for a little while. Pain pills and Adderall were my favorites. 4 of these attacks have ended in attempted suicide. I steal. I’m just gone. I’m reckless. I’m everywhere. I run from every responsibility. I run away from home. I left my daughter with my parents when I was 21 because I was convinced that she was better without a piece of crap like me. I just run. I go. Wherever my thoughts lead me. I don’t think about any of the things I’m doing at the time. I don’t think I’m wrong. I don’t think I’m committing a crime. I don’t think about anything except the reason I am justified in doing it. The anger. The darkness. The past. The unfair shit in my life. The pain that I refuse to feel again. The victim I refuse to be to anyone. I have stolen a lot during these attacks. From the thrill of shoplifting as a teenager to large sums of money from jobs and family and friends. It’s strange. I try to look back and understand my frame of mind at the time and not once do I stop and think about it or evaluate that this is wrong. I just know that I feel like I have control for once. For once I have a little power over something. It’s a release of sorts that only lasts until I’m back to my “ healthy” self at which point I feel horrible and scared of myself. Ashamed. Strange. Who is this person? I have a whole other personality when these attacks happen. I’m always afraid of when she will come back and ruin the normal me’s life. It’s as though a veil or shadow of haziness and confusion comes over me and any clarity or sense of self and groundedness and stability is lost. I am just lost. Gone. Stuck in my weird, strange thoughts and behaviors until the light and love and softness returns. The real me. The me who is still inside. Who’s brain is quiet. Who knows who she is. I’m here. Present. Able to tell the past from the present. Able to relax and trust and forgive. Able to make good choices that support my future self. I wish she would stay around more.

I wish the government would recognize the fact that me having panic attacks over, having to fill some forms out, might signal that I’m not well mentally, and probably not gonna be the best candidate for holding a job. 

I applied for disability, because I am just that, I’m disabled. But I’m not disabled in the way that I can’t take care of myself. I can’t work a job because I’m learning disabled. And because I have POTS my circulation issues make me physically disabled. And I have a bruise on my brain which means permanent damage which part of my brain literally died. Just a small part thankfully, but come on, a brains never going to be the same after that.

I don’t understand things business things number things rules regulations just I don’t get it. I understand freedom of speech and love and compassion. I understand, teamwork, all working together as one, not answering to people who are higher up.

And I get that there have to filter out the people who are just trying to abuse the system, but when my voice breaks as I state the words “I really don’t want to be on disability“ instead of asking me why I am applying then, an emotional person would realize wow she must be going through a hard time in life. These days everybody is just so quick to judge and question and accuse, everyone misses the gravity of the words I say.

And if I had the money coming in I could focus on my writing and facilitating the Support For Survivors group, rather than worrying about going viral and building my following so I can start getting paid to create content. I don’t want to do this for the money. I want to sell my story for that, but first I have to write it… and I can’t do that when I’m this stressed over the biggest evil in my life… money, and finances, and being looked down upon because I don’t work.

Journal entry:

From very early on, I was a pretty sick kid, until I was diagnosed with anxiety. From then on in my medical journey, almost everything has always come back to being explained as anxiety or just a symptom of anxiety. Most of my symptoms haven't even been explored because of this and it makes it hard for me to feel heard and believed. I also don't feel comforted by the words of a doctor who doesn't order any tests to see if it could be anything else.

I once asked my doctor, back in Florida, if there was anything else the symptoms could be other than anxiety and all she said was, "we can't test for anxiety." I don't feel like that was what I was asking but I left it at that. I stopped going to that practice after multiple bad experiences... During my time there, I had an infection ignored until it got so bad they finally put me on antibiotics after the second visit, I was called a drug addict and threatened to take off my .5mg of Xanax I had been on for years for my panic attacks (and subsequently was banned from them). Why did they think I was an addict? I simply asked to refill my order... the doctor said they'd run tests first to make sure I wasn't abusing them... .5mg.. that's such a low dose and I wasn't asking to renew my prescription early or anything. I sometimes even refilled late if I didn't need them as much that month... To be fair though, I now haven't had any Xanax for a couple of years and I still have panic attacks but I've learned to manage without them by living less of a life. Sometimes I wish I had something I could take when I experience them, but I always make it through. Maybe they were a bit of a crutch. That's just not the way to learn you're using them wrong if that's the case. I may have needed to be better educated, but not accused of being an addict.

Thinking back, I remember being practically scolded as a kid for being sick and needing to go to the doctor. Doctors are expensive and my brother and I both had medical issues. I think my mom was just at her wits' end with the bills and my dad would just say "you're fine" and that I was overexaggerating... and I probably was as a kid. Especially seeing as my dad was a medic in the military, if I wasn't missing a limb, I was probably fine. As a kid, I just didn't have the life experience to not be scared when I'd get dizzy or sick. I now know I can get dizzy every day and push through the work week. I now know I can fall... hit my head on multiple occasions.. and be told by EMTs to just sleep it off (literally happened recently). Part of me is angry that I've had to go through those experiences practically ignored... and another part of me sees how resilient the human body really is. I guess I can see why doctors don't think much is a big deal. I just wish I didn't find these not-so-big deals terrifying.

Recently, and I mean this week, I had my medical PTSD triggered. I fainted this past Saturday and hit my head. I was so scared because this just keeps happening and I feel like I have no answers. I just want to know what I can do differently, whether it be medication or a better diet, to keep them from happening again. I'm already working on a better diet and had been when it happened... I do understand, now anyway, that it could be something so simple. And yet, until talking to some girlfriends of mine and then getting a nutritionist, I didn't know this. One of my doctors should have explored my diet sooner, in my opinion.

A couple of months ago... I took my partner in to see our doctor and I went with him into the appointment. It was almost a night and day difference in how I've been treated, it felt like. He went in due to "being tired" and having a harder time getting and keeping... you know, a boner. So, the doctor went over all kinds of things it could be, asked about his diet and mood and etc. Not only did he get a full blood panel workup (he had several vials of blood taken), but our doctor explained what he could eat for a better diet to give him more energy and he put him on depression medication.. all in one visit. I was so surprised.

So, I thought that when I called my doctor to tell him about another fainting spell and discuss with him what my nutritionist had relayed to me, he would know what tests to order. Instead, he said "I need to know exactly which tests to order... I can't just go ordering a bunch of tests, you're insurance won't cover it." I cried. PTSD overload. Fear turned into anger and I said to my doctor "you need to step up your game, you should know what kind of tests to order." His response was "you have to be more polite." I just broke down and cried uncontrollably at this point. He then huffed and said "fine" he would put in an order for all of the tests. By then, I was too triggered to go get them done.

I didn't sleep for 48 hours, I had flashbacks to being in the hospital and became irrationally afraid after lack of sleep of being hospitalized again. That was my PTSD hitting a crisis point.

Thankfully, after talking to my psychiatrist as well as getting some other stressors off of my plate, I was finally able to sleep and my mood and PTSD recalibrated themselves. It didn't help that one of my cats was and is sick and I had to take her to the vet and then I didn't have a good couple's therapy appointment all in the same 48 hour period.

I'm so so tired.

#PTSDSupportAndRecovery #PTSD #MedicalPtsd