ammogirl

You guys!  Guess what today is!  It’s my two-year Blogiversary!  I am truly amazed at myself for doing this for this long.  So yay me. And thank you for reading, of course.  I’d send you all presents but…I think getting your addresses would be some sort of privacy act thing or something so just…imagine something you really want, and pretend you get it, wrapped with a big bow and signed Love, ammogirl.

Okay.  The quest for normal has now officially begun.  I’m not sure how I feel about it yet, but apparently normal has about a three or four week brewing time, so.  One question I had for the doctor was about the fact that I was confused by all this, because I’m happy, you know?  So how do I suddenly have to take an anti-depressant?  She explained that while depression and anxiety share some of the same symptoms, they are different.  So me feeling fine has no impact on me feeling completely over-the-top anxious.  And then she gave me a great analogy that I think really helps explain the whole thing.  You know how you feel when you get up to speak in front of a group of people?  That heart-pounding, sweaty, twisty stomach feeling?  I feel like that all the time.  And it’s getting…oh my god…so much worse lately, and yeah, I think the stress of John being deployed is a factor in that but really, I think it was already getting bad enough that him being home wouldn’t have made a difference.

It had gotten to the point that if I had to go to the BX, but when I drove by there were too many cars in the parking lot, I’d have a panic attack and have to drive right by.  The BX!  On base!  That’s ridiculous, in case you weren’t aware.  Basically I had carved out my comfort zones, which were work and home, and if I never went anywhere else, I was perfectly happy.  Which, I mean, that’s not okay.

When it got to where I had started forgetting EVERYTHING and lost all ability to concentrate, that’s when it got bad.  I have to have control.  I have to be in control of what I am doing.  And I wasn’t.  Not at all.  I would be driving to work and just want to…stop.  Just stop my car right in the road and sit.  And then I would get to work and be so overwhelmed with everything…I don’t want anyone to know, right?  I don’t want people to treat me different.  It’s embarrassing to me–I’m ANXIOUS?  That’s stupid!  How can you explain that, you know?  I’m so anxious that it is affecting my entire life.  It just sounds silly–you know, stop worrying, then!  So I would fake being okay all day, smiling and laughing on the outside while in my head entire universes were going to war with each other, and I was responsible for everything, and everything was my fault.

That’s when I decided to do something about it, and I did, and guess what!  The doctor told me that the normal time frame for people with anxiety to come in for help is after ten years of dealing with it.  That was relieving to me, for some odd reason.

Anyway, that’s all I want–I don’t want to not be me, and I honestly don’t want to be normal, I just want to be able to go to the BX without hyperventilating.  The doctor says the cocktail of stuff she gave me will help me do that, and at this point all I can do is put my trust in her.  I’m also going to be doing some therapy which oh my god sounds so awful but it’s supposed to help me cope with anxiety without drugs which is ultimately what I want to be doing.

Wow!  That’s not a very chipper anniversary post!  Unless you read it and thought, ‘goddamn, I’m glad I’m not as weird as her’, and felt happier because you are not.

Tschuss!!