May 30, 2008

My big accomplishment today was not going to the Emergency Room. After a long, sleepless night, I woke up at 9 a.m. and decided to shower and start my day. I didn’t feel "well" when I started, but once I get the water running it can go either way. Today it went the bad way. My stomach was in knots, my heart started racing and skipping beats. Being naked and wet with no graceful means of escape, I rushed through, toweled off, threw on clothes, grabbed my purse with the intent of rushing to the hospital, and called my daughter to let the dogs out. She didn't answer! I couldn’t leave them un-pottied, so I got an icepack out of the freezer and stuck it in my armpit (a tip from a fellow anxiety sufferer), let the dogs out, and swung on my porch swing. Thanks to the handy stopwatch feature on my cell phone I was able to monitor my heart rate. Once it fell below 100, I figured I would survive yet another day in hell. Ironically, the surroundings were perfect – sunny but not glaringly so, cool breeze, thick green grass all around, red-winged blackbirds breakfasting at the feeder.

One thing about panic attacks – they bring me closer to God. It’s the only time I ask him for help. I’ve given up thinking God gives a crap about me most of the time, after 26 years of this it seems quite obvious. But when I’m pretty certain I’m on my way to meet him, I beg him to make it stop.
Its now 10 a.m. and I’ve got the rest of a long day staring me down. After a morning like this I am especially fearful of venturing away from home, or even being productive at home. Today is leaning toward being a lost day, spent processing every unusual sensation in my body, eating next to nothing, digging my nails in the walls of depression to keep from slipping further in.

Hell is where my heart is.