Today I had planned to write a post about an interesting article that was sent to me. It was about the stigma men face compared to women. Sorry, I can’t do it today. It’s more than I can handle. Instead I’m doing a quick post on how I’m doing. I hate writing a whiny post, but I swore to myself I’d post twice a week and this is all I got. So, due to circumstances beyond my control, the stigma post goes back on the shelf,
My last post was about dissociation that I experienced about five days ago. I wish I could say it was gone, but not entirely. Last night, when I crawled into bed, it hit me again. It was really more of a panic attack, however when I reached over to adjust my clock I freaked out. For a few moments I was scared to death to touch it. I held my shaky hand over my clock for awhile before I was able to throw it down quickly on to it. My body and my voice were trembling and Maurice picked up on it right away. He put his arms around me and reassured me that everything was real and okay. It wasn’t as helpful this time. Being in his arms made me feel claustrophobic and trapped. I wanted to break free. On the other hand, not touching him made me feel like I was floating and out of control. It was a no win situation. I stayed in his arms and fell asleep mildly trembling the entire time, feeling the need to escape the situation, but having no clue what to do.
Today hasn’t been much better. I had planned to wash clothes and clean up the place, both need to be done badly, but I haven’t been able to do it. I haven’t dealt with dissociation, but my anxiety level is on max alert. I’ve just sat around wishing I had something to do, but not capable of doing anything. Once again, I’ve been shaking like a Chihuahua all day with tears in my eyes. I did reach a point that I couldn’t stand being inside these four walls any longer so I walked across the street to buy a gyro. The gyro was delicious, but it was a bad decision. The deli counter was packed with people pushing and shoving and twice I was hit by shopping carts. I still don’t know how I did it, but I stayed. I guess the only thing I wanted more than running out of there was a gyro.
Being in the market was taxing, but its effects didn’t get to me until I got home where I curled up in the fetal position and cried. Fuck, I hate it when I lose complete control and that’s what the last four days have been about.
I am starting to think this is all going on because of my med changes. I want to call my pdoc, but I know him well enough to know I would go straight to his voicemail which will tell me its full. On the rare instance I am able to leave a message, he won’t call back. I’ve got a couple of referrals that my therapist gave me for new psychiatrists, but I can’t do it today. Speaking of my therapist, he’s out of town so he’s no help either. That leaves me stuck here at home, struggling and writing this post the best I can.