My lungs continued to labor as I dissociated. As if viewing from above, or far away within the skull's sockets. Checking the pulse with trembling fingers: strong, perhaps quick, but not irregular. What gripped the body no longer mine?
--
Enough with that stilted narrative voice. Yeah, I'm trying to improve my writing, but I'm uncomfortable contriving verbal bullshittery around an experience I found disturbing. For now, at least, I just need to get this out without lingering.
Suffice it to say after making my way to shade I found myself unable to stand, frightened and frustrated, crawling to the porch steps trying not to be seen. My mom did see me. (I am back to living with my parents for now. More another day.)
She came out and tried to figure out what was wrong, to help me, to comfort me. Before gasps and snot silenced me, I rasped out that I was not going unconscious, I was not hurt, I was okay. (Frankly I'm not sure I believed what I was saying, but my main feeling was frustration and shame rather than fear.)
--
It passed. The tears evaporated with time, and I wiped my nose on my tremor-wracked hands. They usually shake a little anyway, even though I'm only twenty-five. I guess I have to go get that checked out now. I haven't had a routine physical in two years.
Five minutes? Ten? Standing up was difficult, and I gained a bruise from a premature attempt. I still ache and the hedge is unfinished.
--
Enough with that stilted narrative voice. Yeah, I'm trying to improve my writing, but I'm uncomfortable contriving verbal bullshittery around an experience I found disturbing. For now, at least, I just need to get this out without lingering.
Suffice it to say after making my way to shade I found myself unable to stand, frightened and frustrated, crawling to the porch steps trying not to be seen. My mom did see me. (I am back to living with my parents for now. More another day.)
She came out and tried to figure out what was wrong, to help me, to comfort me. Before gasps and snot silenced me, I rasped out that I was not going unconscious, I was not hurt, I was okay. (Frankly I'm not sure I believed what I was saying, but my main feeling was frustration and shame rather than fear.)
--
It passed. The tears evaporated with time, and I wiped my nose on my tremor-wracked hands. They usually shake a little anyway, even though I'm only twenty-five. I guess I have to go get that checked out now. I haven't had a routine physical in two years.
Five minutes? Ten? Standing up was difficult, and I gained a bruise from a premature attempt. I still ache and the hedge is unfinished.
--
My dad says it was a panic attack. He's a primary care physician, a proper M.D. general practitioner, so he would know. I guess my similar experience two years ago was also a panic attack, then. (Another time.)
The list of mental health issues grows.
Two years ago in June I was diagnosed with major depressive disorder.
This year in July I finally went back into treatment and this was upgraded to:
- "double depression" - that is, pervasive chronic depression accented by depressive episodes typical of MDD
- social anxiety (possible general anxiety)
- agoraphobia
My dad says it was a panic attack. He's a primary care physician, a proper M.D. general practitioner, so he would know. I guess my similar experience two years ago was also a panic attack, then. (Another time.)
The list of mental health issues grows.
Two years ago in June I was diagnosed with major depressive disorder.
This year in July I finally went back into treatment and this was upgraded to:
- "double depression" - that is, pervasive chronic depression accented by depressive episodes typical of MDD
- social anxiety (possible general anxiety)
- agoraphobia
I'm not sure how much these labels help at this point, and how much meaning they have in the first place, but words must start somewhere.
--
So, why am I writing here?
Certainly not to be read. Blogs have a tendency to lurk out of sight as it is, and I intend to share no links with anyone. If you have stumbled here, it is a curious thing.
Maybe to help me process things. Though, right now, trying to figure out what to write and what to omit and what to postpone has me feeling even more scattered and fragmented. (Loose ends. Many will never be tied, I suppose, and ever more will be created if I continue.)
Perhaps muttering into the internet-void is suitable. A "permanent" thing, preserved, but who will see? What will it, could it change?
I will write again tomorrow. Enough silent words for today.
--
So, why am I writing here?
Certainly not to be read. Blogs have a tendency to lurk out of sight as it is, and I intend to share no links with anyone. If you have stumbled here, it is a curious thing.
Maybe to help me process things. Though, right now, trying to figure out what to write and what to omit and what to postpone has me feeling even more scattered and fragmented. (Loose ends. Many will never be tied, I suppose, and ever more will be created if I continue.)
Perhaps muttering into the internet-void is suitable. A "permanent" thing, preserved, but who will see? What will it, could it change?
I will write again tomorrow. Enough silent words for today.
Hey!! Thanks for the. As myself a victim of anxiety panic attack so it could understand the situation very well. In last I mate a Counsellor In Fulham, the counselling sessions given by him were so effective.
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