A glimmer of hope has come my way, finally. It seems the zoloft may be kicking in. For the first time in months I actually *felt* like doing something. I didn't do it because I had to or to suit others, etc. I did it because I mentally felt like doing it. I went through one old trunk, emptied it to give to my daughter. Consolidated some of what I took out into another one which was almost full. What is left out is my other daughter's artwork from years ago; it will all go to her as part of her Christmas present. We now need something at the foot of our bed, a table or bench, but we'll find one in good time. For now, we have an armchair there holding the ubiquitous laundry basket full of clean clothes which never seem to get put away.
This morning, apparently, I needed to sleep more. We had to go run a couple of errands after breakfast, so off we went. I fell asleep. Rog, bless his heart, knows I get my best sleep in the car, have done for years, but only if he's the one driving. Anyway, he took me up on our usual Sunday loop, up on the palisades (bluffs) among the peach, apple, pear, and cherry orchards. It is high above the Colorado river and I feel better when we get up above the valley, so I usually stay awake to watch, but I have no memory of this morning's ride except that the sleep felt really good and the dog was very happy. He loves his rides, too.
Anyway, my eyes are sore, really tired, but my mind is slightly clearer. It feels as though a fog is lifting in tatters, here and there, from my mind. I had to stop with Rog's reminder that I need to keep things in balance. I have a tendency to go great guns when I feel better; beyond what I should do, then I crash. Not this time, though...I stopped, then we went for a bit. This evening, I have felt a little let down, energy-wise, but no anxiety, no lethargy, no panic, no xanax...bless me, god/dess and wake me up and thanks!
Showing posts with label panic. Show all posts
Showing posts with label panic. Show all posts
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Off the rails - maybe a good thing?
After reading over my initial post, from October, I found out I was angry at myself for not being able to just conquer all of this with my metaphysical training. Then I realised nowhere did I ever learn I was to eschew help of any kind which seemed "right" including medical help and medicines. I have never been one who does not believe in using Western medicine when necessary. So, again I learned I am not a Super Woman and that's okay. I still love me..I can even say so in the mirror! I am not weak for using xanax and lexapro to help me recover from a depression which I think has been going on a lot longer than I ever knew.
One thing I know I have been doing a lot over the past few years is avoiding conflict. I quit writing op/ed columns at a time when I was being published nationally; I quit volunteering for a human rights organisation for which I had done PR work; I stopped friends, the tv, and radio if the least little thing came up which I thought would be too much for me, would upset me too much. I knew it was partly because I am an empath and we do have to protect ourselves, but now I am wondering if it wasn't just fatigue from depression; just not having the wherewithal to listen, debate, etc. There are a handful of friends with whom I have had a back and forth, a give and take, throughout and I am convinced this has kept me going much longer than otherwise.
Today started out angry, but improved after breakfast. Our son called to see if I still wanted to go target shooting. I have not been in over thirty years and have a whole different outlook about guns, now, but I do still have my dad's .22 single shot rifle and fond memories of Sunday picnics when dad would set a penny on a log and shoot a hole through it with his six-shooter. I come from a long line of Western sharpshooters and ranch people so using a gun properly was instilled in us from a young age; likewise my children were taught the extreme safety measures of true respect for the lethal weapon a gun really is.
I had been so shaky from meds last night I wasn't sure I could even hold the rifle much less hit the broad side of a barn (not really, no barns in sight and I wouldn't have shot at one, anyway!) Last night, I took the third night of a half-dose of lexapro. I tried to make it the night through without any xanax, but at 1230a, I gave up and took one half of one. That settled me for a bit. I tossed and turned a lot from side effects of the lexapro, according to what I have read about it.
I did okay the rest of the day, sort of. We did go target-shooting and I found out I could hold the rifle and I could at least get to within a few feet of a target. Once I get used to it, again, I might do my dad proud and get back to "dead-eye" status. My Rog did a bullseye, dead center with our son's 9 millimeter and I did hit one target with one shot from it, but it's too loud and heavy for me to like shooting. I'll stick to my old-fashioned, slow and easy .22.
When we came home, we stopped off to pick up our grandson, M. He was a busy bee with his toy tools, going all over our house pounding in screws, hammering on windowsills. Then he set up a pillow, a yoga ball on a bin and crawled under them to tell me he would have my car ready for me soon; there was a lot to fix! By the time he was done it had seating for 14 and a swimming pool! He is so inventive and fun. We played a few hands of UNO then he went home.
A little later just as I was starting to feel anxious, Rog and I left for the store. I went in, this time, and it was a horrible time. I did okay, we got the groceries, but everything annoyed me and I couldn't wait to get out, plus my feet hurt. That is not like me, at all. Usually, I try to smile at folks because I know they probably don't want to be there and it might brighten their day.
A friend opined we strong women, Wise Wimmin, go and go, taking on more and more, not recognising the toll it is taking until there is one pebble too many added on to the pile. I believe she is spot on; that is just what I feel like. I cannot even get in touch with my metaphysical practices because my head is just kind of stuck. I can sit and say "thank you" over and over and know the Cosmic/Great Spirit hears me and knows, but that is about it, for now.
We went for a drive after the store, but it was in the wrong direction through ugly developments and did nothing to alleviate my mood; usually I can at least get a nap in the car, but not so this time. So, I have been restless, angry, frustrated and demanding. Puir Rog doesn't know what to do. I took a xanax to stave off the anxiety I felt coming. I didn't know what to eat; nothing sounded good, though I was very hungry which is a side effect of lexapro. Finally, I had a cup of brocoli soup and a piece of toast with raspberry preserves. I do not feel as lethargic, today, as I did yesterday, so maybe the one half xanax at night for another few nights will be okay and the lexapro will kick in. I do not feel the side effects as much now as earlier. I definitely think taking it at bedtime works best for me.
I have to figure out a way to get my mind into the exercise my body is screaming for...my mind is still in the old invalid way thinking of how much work it is and how much easier it is to let Rog get things for me and such. I am active during the day when I am alone and with M., but I have to get back to a steady program...my body is just craving it so badly. One thing at a time seems to be the most I can do. So, get the meds going and move to the next.
I did get some laundry done, today; cleaned the bathroom with M's help; and, with Rog's help, cleared a space on the jewellery table. (There's a bunch of stuff we didn't get to, today, but Rog needed more time off. We had to go to the station last night for an emergency.) Oh, and I have to practice my dulcimer in order to play for the volunteer coordinators at hospice on the 30th! What was that I was saying about one thing at a time?
I hope this is really helping someone; it seems like more spewing to me.:-) Thanks for listening.
One thing I know I have been doing a lot over the past few years is avoiding conflict. I quit writing op/ed columns at a time when I was being published nationally; I quit volunteering for a human rights organisation for which I had done PR work; I stopped friends, the tv, and radio if the least little thing came up which I thought would be too much for me, would upset me too much. I knew it was partly because I am an empath and we do have to protect ourselves, but now I am wondering if it wasn't just fatigue from depression; just not having the wherewithal to listen, debate, etc. There are a handful of friends with whom I have had a back and forth, a give and take, throughout and I am convinced this has kept me going much longer than otherwise.
Today started out angry, but improved after breakfast. Our son called to see if I still wanted to go target shooting. I have not been in over thirty years and have a whole different outlook about guns, now, but I do still have my dad's .22 single shot rifle and fond memories of Sunday picnics when dad would set a penny on a log and shoot a hole through it with his six-shooter. I come from a long line of Western sharpshooters and ranch people so using a gun properly was instilled in us from a young age; likewise my children were taught the extreme safety measures of true respect for the lethal weapon a gun really is.
I had been so shaky from meds last night I wasn't sure I could even hold the rifle much less hit the broad side of a barn (not really, no barns in sight and I wouldn't have shot at one, anyway!) Last night, I took the third night of a half-dose of lexapro. I tried to make it the night through without any xanax, but at 1230a, I gave up and took one half of one. That settled me for a bit. I tossed and turned a lot from side effects of the lexapro, according to what I have read about it.
I did okay the rest of the day, sort of. We did go target-shooting and I found out I could hold the rifle and I could at least get to within a few feet of a target. Once I get used to it, again, I might do my dad proud and get back to "dead-eye" status. My Rog did a bullseye, dead center with our son's 9 millimeter and I did hit one target with one shot from it, but it's too loud and heavy for me to like shooting. I'll stick to my old-fashioned, slow and easy .22.
When we came home, we stopped off to pick up our grandson, M. He was a busy bee with his toy tools, going all over our house pounding in screws, hammering on windowsills. Then he set up a pillow, a yoga ball on a bin and crawled under them to tell me he would have my car ready for me soon; there was a lot to fix! By the time he was done it had seating for 14 and a swimming pool! He is so inventive and fun. We played a few hands of UNO then he went home.
A little later just as I was starting to feel anxious, Rog and I left for the store. I went in, this time, and it was a horrible time. I did okay, we got the groceries, but everything annoyed me and I couldn't wait to get out, plus my feet hurt. That is not like me, at all. Usually, I try to smile at folks because I know they probably don't want to be there and it might brighten their day.
A friend opined we strong women, Wise Wimmin, go and go, taking on more and more, not recognising the toll it is taking until there is one pebble too many added on to the pile. I believe she is spot on; that is just what I feel like. I cannot even get in touch with my metaphysical practices because my head is just kind of stuck. I can sit and say "thank you" over and over and know the Cosmic/Great Spirit hears me and knows, but that is about it, for now.
We went for a drive after the store, but it was in the wrong direction through ugly developments and did nothing to alleviate my mood; usually I can at least get a nap in the car, but not so this time. So, I have been restless, angry, frustrated and demanding. Puir Rog doesn't know what to do. I took a xanax to stave off the anxiety I felt coming. I didn't know what to eat; nothing sounded good, though I was very hungry which is a side effect of lexapro. Finally, I had a cup of brocoli soup and a piece of toast with raspberry preserves. I do not feel as lethargic, today, as I did yesterday, so maybe the one half xanax at night for another few nights will be okay and the lexapro will kick in. I do not feel the side effects as much now as earlier. I definitely think taking it at bedtime works best for me.
I have to figure out a way to get my mind into the exercise my body is screaming for...my mind is still in the old invalid way thinking of how much work it is and how much easier it is to let Rog get things for me and such. I am active during the day when I am alone and with M., but I have to get back to a steady program...my body is just craving it so badly. One thing at a time seems to be the most I can do. So, get the meds going and move to the next.
I did get some laundry done, today; cleaned the bathroom with M's help; and, with Rog's help, cleared a space on the jewellery table. (There's a bunch of stuff we didn't get to, today, but Rog needed more time off. We had to go to the station last night for an emergency.) Oh, and I have to practice my dulcimer in order to play for the volunteer coordinators at hospice on the 30th! What was that I was saying about one thing at a time?
I hope this is really helping someone; it seems like more spewing to me.:-) Thanks for listening.
Friday, October 23, 2009
I can see it is going to take some practice at keeping this blog going. I started writing on a forum I frequent, again, and realise I have been neglecting this blog. With very kind encouragement from a friend, I am here to continue.
This week has brought much revelation not least of which is I had not been asking my online social network friends for help through a hellish six months. I *thought* they all had too much on their plates already, I know I did, so go figure, right? Well, when I saw my OMT doc this week and burst out crying about panic, anxiety, and depression, we started talking and it hit me...I had not asked my friends for help! They had helped me through so much before, including open heart surgery! I went home that day and sat down to write to them. The responses have been so loving, kind, silly bringing on healing laughter, supportive, etc, I shake my head and wonder that I waited SO long. Shows you where my head has been!
I will write more, I promise. For now, this is what I can muster. It is late afternoon and I have almost passed the 2-5pm time which seems to be my low point for attacks.
My Rog will be home with me this whole weekend...that's the other thing which had thrown me off...he's been gone three weekends in a row and several late nights as they moved the television station he is chief engineer for...so I've been alone plus had no help around the house. we've both had colds and I am still on oxygen during the day until I lose ten more pounds gained from steroids when I had pneumonia back in April. It's been a long haul, but my thoughts are turning more towards what my friends are saying rather than doom and gloom. One friend calls it her "Doom and Gloom" voice and does not deny it or pretend it doesn't exist as that doesn't work. What she does do is say "Thank you for sharing, now move along!" Works for me! Take care dear ones and may blessed beings of light guide your way!
This week has brought much revelation not least of which is I had not been asking my online social network friends for help through a hellish six months. I *thought* they all had too much on their plates already, I know I did, so go figure, right? Well, when I saw my OMT doc this week and burst out crying about panic, anxiety, and depression, we started talking and it hit me...I had not asked my friends for help! They had helped me through so much before, including open heart surgery! I went home that day and sat down to write to them. The responses have been so loving, kind, silly bringing on healing laughter, supportive, etc, I shake my head and wonder that I waited SO long. Shows you where my head has been!
I will write more, I promise. For now, this is what I can muster. It is late afternoon and I have almost passed the 2-5pm time which seems to be my low point for attacks.
My Rog will be home with me this whole weekend...that's the other thing which had thrown me off...he's been gone three weekends in a row and several late nights as they moved the television station he is chief engineer for...so I've been alone plus had no help around the house. we've both had colds and I am still on oxygen during the day until I lose ten more pounds gained from steroids when I had pneumonia back in April. It's been a long haul, but my thoughts are turning more towards what my friends are saying rather than doom and gloom. One friend calls it her "Doom and Gloom" voice and does not deny it or pretend it doesn't exist as that doesn't work. What she does do is say "Thank you for sharing, now move along!" Works for me! Take care dear ones and may blessed beings of light guide your way!
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