Unfortunately this post is not about panic on the streets of London, or panic on the streets of Birmingham. No DJs were hung. I'm being silly here. That's how I deal with uncomfortable things. But this is about a serious topic.
If you're a follower of my fabulous little blog here, you both probably noticed that I’ve sort of disappeared for several years. I figured I should try to explain what's been going on with me these last few years.
It all started at the end of 2015. I kept getting sick. I'd feel nauseous, had hot/cold sweats, shaking, then eventually need to run to the bathroom for some very unpleasant things. It usually only lasted a day or two, but it kept happening every few weeks. I hadn't eaten anything weird, and that's kind of often to be getting a stomach bug. Because it kept happening without warning, I started noticing every single feeling that went through my body. I was constantly checking how I felt to make sure everything felt right. And if something didn't feel right, I'd consult with Dr. Google (big mistake.)
In February 2016 things got really bad. I got so sick like before, only this time with a fever and violent shaking chills. I could not make myself hold still. Not even enough to take my temperature. I thought I'd bite through the thermometer because my teeth were chattering so hard. I got up to go into the bathroom and I saw blue spots and everything started looking fuzzy, like static on a TV screen. I yelled out to Husband that I thought I was going to faint. I fainted in the doorway and he caught me just in time and lowered me to the floor. I woke up on the bathroom floor with him holding me. He said I was only out for a few seconds. I remember him patting my cheek and saying my name and just this overwhelming feeling that I wanted to go to sleep. I think that has to be one of the scariest things that has ever happened to me. I just laid there on the floor and cried. What was going on? What was wrong with me? I'm so grateful he was there when it happened. He took me to the doctor later that morning and they couldn't really find anything wrong with me, except that my blood work showed some crazy high number that meant I had some kind of infection. I get sinus infections frequently and had been having sinus problems. They said the fever probably caused me to faint. That's never happened before in my entire lifetime of having sinus infections. They gave me an antibiotic and sent me home. I ended up being fine, but these experiences left lasting effects.
I had already become so afraid of any different feelings that went through my body because I was so afraid of getting sick again. Now I was afraid of fainting again too. And to add to the fear, I kept getting this random feeling of hot/cold, flushing, tingling, that started going up my face then down my body and down my arms and legs. Then I would get really weak and shaky and hot, and then a little while later I'd get really cold. Then I would become absolutely exhausted. These feelings would last anywhere from a few minutes to several hours. The exhaustion would last for days after. And it kept happening. This terrified me. I was scared to be awake. What was happening to me? I was afraid of my own body. I kept telling my doctor what was going on and asking for ideas as to what it might be. I had to go through lots of unpleasant tests to try to figure it out. That pushed me over the edge. Pretty much anything medical-related already gave me huge anxiety, but since my anxiety had gotten so much worse, it became absolutely unbearable. My mom had to take me to the doctor just for moral support. How dumb did I feel when here I was, 42 years old, and my mommy has to take me to the doctor because I was scared? And everything tested out fine, except my high blood pressure, depression, and anxiety, but I already knew about those and had been on medication for a few years. But those scary feelings kept coming back and I never knew when it could happen. I was afraid to go anywhere alone because what if I got those feelings out in public? What would happen to me then?
My doctor made some changes to my medications to see if that would help. He changed my antidepressant, added another anti-anxiety med, and changed my blood pressure pills. These new meds made me feel awful. Changing antidepressants is a horrible thing to go through. You have to taper off the old one very slowly and introduce the new one slowly, but not so much that you're getting too much of either in your system at once. It's very tricky and exhausting to figure out. And then you feel horrible in your head while your brain is getting used to the new meds. Ever feel like your eyes are making noise? Yep. That was one of the things that I experienced. So now I'm not only scared of what's happening to me, but I've got all these weird side effects going on. It was awful. And these new meds weren't working anyway. Plus, two of them caused weight gain as a lovely side effect. I gained 40 pounds out of nowhere, that I still haven't been able to lose, even though it's been about 5 years since I stopped taking those stupid pills.
During this time of adjusting to all of these lovely new pills, I consulted probably too frequently with Dr. Google. I didn't feel right, these pills I was taking didn't feel right, nothing seemed right. A lot of what I read really scared me. But I was able to figure a few things out through some research of reputable sources. If I found something that sounded like what I was experiencing, it would comfort me. A lot of what was happening sounded like two things: perimenopause, which is the time leading up to menopause, or panic attacks caused by an overactive, burnt out nervous system. I wasn't quite old enough for menopause, although it's not unheard of at my age, but I am in the age range for perimenopause. And panic attacks... I already knew I had anxiety. Could that be what was happening to me?
In my research, I learned that severe anxiety can lead to panic attacks. Things that can cause them include prolonged periods of intense stress, like trauma, serious disease, huge life changes, etc. Panic attacks and perimenopause can both cause a lot of the weird physical feelings I was having. The hot/cold, flushing, tingling, feeling weird in my head, etc., etc. Perimenopause can also cause an increase in anxiety due to crazy hormonal things going on. That had to be it. When I thought about it, it just felt right. I think had my answer. It was a combination of severe anxiety and hormonal changes playing off each other. This was a huge comfort to me.
I took this information to my doctors (primary care, nurse practitioner, and endocrinologist) and they agreed that this was probably what was going on. They tried tweaking my pills which meant more weird feelings, sleeping a lot, eyes making noise (not even kidding,) but I didn't really feel any better. Knowing what was going on helped, but nothing was really fixing it. I felt like a guinea pig. It felt like they were all saying "here, try this" and just throwing random stuff at me to see what stuck. It was horrible to go through.
In the process of all of this, I discovered that I essentially had a nervous breakdown. I used to always say that half jokingly when I felt like I just couldn't deal anymore. But I know now that it's nothing to joke about. It's more real than you'll ever know. And it's horrible. The term "nervous breakdown" isn't an official medical diagnosis anymore, but it is basically when you reach a point where you literally cannot take any more. Your body and mind have had more than they can handle, your fight or flight system is always on instead of only being on if there's danger, your hormones become imbalanced from your nervous system going into overdrive. You just start to shut down mentally, and to some extent, physically. My repeatedly being sick (which had stopped by now,) and fainting (only once,) and all of the scary feelings I was experiencing, plus the constant fear of these things happening again had triggered these things. Any little thing became too overwhelming. My body and mind had reached that point where they just couldn't take any more.
So what do I do now? I still didn't feel like any of the pills were working. I was exhausted. I couldn't think straight or deal with even the most basic things like cooking or doing laundry or sometimes even just getting out of bed and dressed. All I knew for sure was that my nerves were shot, I was having panic attacks, and the only things that seemed to help were Xanax and sleep. So I spent a good portion of the next couple of years doing that. Not very fun. I was able to some normal things once in a while, like run short errands (not alone.) We were able to go on a couple of vacations during this time, but if I had a panic attack I basically couldn't function for 1-2 days after. That makes for a fun vacation, right? And even under normal conditions at home I would be exhausted, couldn't think clearly, just wanted to be alone and sleep. Not exactly how I wanted to live my life. I realized that I probably needed to do something that I had been putting off for years. And that was to get help from a psychiatrist.
I had always thought that was a bunch of quackery. I also didn't have a very realistic idea of what it was like. You sit on a couch and talk about your mother and all of your problems are magically solved? Oh, and here are some more pills that will make you happy! Yeah right. I wasn't going to do that. But I was desperate to feel better. I couldn't take anymore. I was barely functioning at this point. This wasn't any way to live. My friend had recommended a psychiatrist to me several years before all of this to help with my depression. I decided to call and make an appointment. I'm so glad I did. And I feel really stupid for not doing it sooner. I started going in May 2018 and have gone every month since. He confirmed my self-diagnosis of panic attacks and perimenopause, got me on the right medications, and is working with me on Cognitive Behavioral Therapy. He is the sweetest, most caring doctor I've ever had. I can open up to him and he understands me. He encourages me and I always feel better when I leave his office. I still have bad days (weeks, months) but not nearly as bad as they were. The depression and anxiety are still there, and sometimes they're still there too much, but I have new ways to cope. I don't have panic attacks very often anymore, and if I do I know what they are and can just wait for them to pass. I could try new meds or change doses if I wanted to. I'm still not too comfortable doing that yet. But the option is there and my doctor isn't forcing me to do anything I'm not ready for. But I'm making progress. I'm getting help.
This whole ordeal left some lasting effects. I still can't handle much mentally. I get overwhelmed very easily. I get overstimulated easily. I get really tired really easily. I still can't think clearly very often. I feel like my brain doesn't work quite right anymore. I still feel scared a lot for no reason. But at least I know what the cause is and how to deal with it better. I hate it. I hate that I'm like this. I miss who I was. The old me. The real me. The me who didn't have a care in the world. Once in a while she makes an appearance. But she doesn't usually hang around for very long.
If this seems like a jumbled incoherent mess, I'm sorry. That's because my brain feels like a jumbled incoherent mess. Writing used to come easily to me. Now it's harder. It takes longer. All of this has been extremely hard on me. But I'm still here. A lot has changed. But I think that deep deep down inside, under all the extra super crazy that's messed me up over the last few years, I'm still mostly the same. Different, but the same.
This Is Who I Am... (now)
P.S. - I eventually figured out why I had been getting so sick all those times: contaminated flour. That's right. Flour. Of all the stupid things. There had been a flour recall because of E. coli. When I heard about it I checked and didn't have any, so I thought nothing of it. One day in 2017 I was looking at old photos on my phone and noticed the dates on them. The photos were of things I had baked, and the dates were near the days I had been sick the year before. I had a partial bag of flour sitting on top of the microwave because the whole bag didn't fit into my flour canister. It was the brand that had been recalled. I had forgotten it was there, so I didn't look there when I was checking to see if I had any of the flour that had been recalled. The rest of that bag had been in my canister and had gotten used in the things I had baked near the times I got sick. I'll admit, I was a huge eater of raw cookie dough. (Not anymore!) I know now that's what did it. So now I don't bake nearly as often as I used to because I'm a little afraid of the flour. Still. Stupid, I know. I remembered everything I had been through. All the tests. The "you have an infection here's an antibiotic" that really didn't seem like a sinus infection. The next time I saw my doctor I asked him if E. coli could have caused those crazy high numbers on my lab results that indicated infection. He said absolutely.
Who would've thought that all of these horrible things I've been through are basically the result of eating some stupid bad flour???
And yes, every once in a while, when my anxiety gets really bad or I'm really tired... my eyes still make noise.
