PTSD, Anxiety, and Depression - Part 2

Anxiety is a weird and ominous feeling, and that's putting it lightly. I mean, we all have anxiety to a certain extent when we're about to do something where we might fail (public speaking, dance recitals, pre-final examinations, etc.). In fact, there are millions of situations that cause us to be, what I call, rationally anxious. People naturally feel this feeling, and it's indicative of having pride in what you're about to do and wanting things to turn out for the best.

But there is definitely another kind of anxiety...the irrational kind that has no bearing on anything rational. Instead it hits you so fast that you absolutely can't think straight. Sometimes it leads to a full-on panic attack where things get really bad. Sometimes the symptoms can induce a heart-attack-like-event. You can't breathe, you're sweating, you have this wicked knot in your stomach, your thoughts race, and all you can manage to do is hide...in a corner, in your car, in your bathroom, or closet, or bed...whatever.

I experience both the former and latter types of anxiety. Yet most of the time I am afflicted with the latter type: the irrational kind. I rarely have true panic attacks, for which I am extremely grateful and feel loads of empathy for those that do experience them. A good example of my irrational anxiety taking hold of me was the day I went to see a double-feature at the movies. I was having a wonderful time until the second movie ended. As I walked out of the darkened movie theater and towards the lobby, I was hit with massive anxiety. The minute I reached the lobby I felt like a brick wall had appeared in front of me. I had that nervous knot and overwhelmed feeling come upon me so fast and so intensely I just put my head down and got to my car as fast as I could. I felt that everyone there could see right through me and were thinking to themselves, "What's her problem?".

The truth is that this type of anxiety can make you feel like you're screaming at the top of your lungs because you're afraid and you need someone to help you, except you can't speak a sound to ask for that help. Sometimes you even gather the strength to try to yell out, but all that comes out of you is a whisper, even with the intensity and volume you are desperately trying to accomplish. So instead you ball up and hide in a small space, or in your bed, or whatever, sometimes shaking so much you get  tense to the point where your body starts to hurt (and for me that's not a long time).

And a sucky part that is no one's fault is that, unfortunately, people in the house (or wherever you are) are going about their business because they have lives to lead and can't cater to you, particularly if they don't know what's wrong because you can't tell them. And sadly it could be because, let's face it, they've been through this 1000 times before with you, so it's somewhat par for the course. Even though they may have sympathy for you, they ultimately leave you alone and keep on with their business. After all, they know you're in a "safe" place all huddled up in a corner, the bathtub, the closet, etc., regardless of how desperate you are feeling. And you can't express how much you need them because, again, you can't effectively communicate. Yes, that does suck.

In moments like these, which for some reason now happen to me a lot post-accident, my thoughts typically race...and none of them are good. Thoughts of demeaning self-criticism leading to thoughts of hopelessness leading to thoughts of how I'm such a waste of time and space, confirming that I'm a failure and will never be anything more. I could go on, but you get it. The reality is that all of these thoughts and more are in your head racing back to back at unbelievable speeds, and you're too overwhelmed to know how to stop them...so you do what feels right (even though it's wrong) and you believe them...ultimately making the anxiety worse and your feeling of fear and desperation absolutely unbearable.

Someone who experiences anxiety also deeply hates being lonely but is too freaked out to socialize. (I have no doubt I am a full on agoraphobic at this point, speaking of.) I mean, maybe they can handle virtual socializing through things like Facebook, Instagram, whatever, but that's pretty much the limit. They don't go shopping for pleasure; don't feel that they can just jump into the car and go anywhere...even for just a ride, you name it. They are trapped by this affliction, and it takes its toll day after day.

Personally, I have anti-anxiety pills that I take, but if I'm being honest, they aren't nearly enough. If anything, the most I can say about them is, on my good days, taking them helps me (doesn't always work) to stay positive and social instead of giving into my anxiety so that things become overwhelming. Even with regular counseling and breathing exercises and all of the other coping mechanisms I have learned, when severe anxiety hits me, all I can do is take my prescribed pill and hope it is at least somewhat effective...whilst I curl up in my closet or corner or bed and listen to the happiest music I can handle.

Unfortunately, I have no positive ending to this post. I'm sure my high levels of anxiety come from some of my PTSD (described in another post). I mean, this certainly started after 9/29/09 (my accident). Whether I get them because of a TBI or a remnant of PTSD or some physiological reason or other trauma that I have indeed experienced, it's a mute point in part because I still have to deal with it...and no one knows how to help me.

Tonight I missed out on going to see The Dixie Chicks in concert in Bangor because of my severe anxiety. I was left alone for the day and anxious feelings grew like a weed until I was overcome by them. Not to mention my relatively new members of my family are here, and I am trapped in my room, so I'm totally embarrassed. I really wish they didn't get to see this side of me. I really, really hate my life sometimes.

Thanks for reading.