Stress sickness~
Once again, I'm awake into the night, thanks to my old friend, stress sickness.
I first encountered it probably a year ago, perhaps a little more than that. No, I take it back. I first encountered these symptoms a few years back, when I realized that my birth control pills I'd been taking were causing me to have panic attacks. Those panic attacks were pretty bad; I couldn't do much of anything. I couldn't sleep; I just looped into a spiral of downward thoughts, and I couldn't comprehend how anyone could smile because everyone was going to die some day, so what was the point. Pleasant, huh? No, there was nothing trendy or emo about my thoughts then - granted, I had not been to church in quite some time at that point, and while my faith had not changed it certainly hadn't been reinforced by other believers. No amount of listening to Christian music can substitute for real, living human beings that can pray with you and for you.
Once that got sorted - it was a generic brand of my birth control that was causing the panic attacks, despite the pharmacist insisting that generic should be exactly the same as the brand name - I ended up having to pay a little more per month for my prescription, but it was worth it not to have these horrible episodes any more.
Then a year ago, it started to come back. Not exactly the full-force doom and gloom I'd had before; this time, it was just an inability to sleep. Something, somehow, would trigger something inside of me that would cause my body to suddenly feel cold, goose bumps to appear all over, and whatever was in my stomach sunk straight to the bottom. It would result in repeated trips to the restroom; first to get rid of that which was already done digesting by the normal means, then to get rid of that which was most recently consumed, by a less pleasant route.
I finally learned that, chances are, I would be up until 4 or 5 in the morning with this stress sickness, and that fighting it would just make it worse. I grew thankful for the layout of our house, which allowed for me to go downstairs and spend time on the couch (whether tossing and turning, or using the computer, or whatever) instead of waking my husband up every twenty to thirty minutes with repeated runs to the john. On top of that, I learned to not even bother with trying to sleep until my body reached a certain point: that point was after everything had been voided from my system, through one end or the other, and a small amount of bland food (usually Cheerios) and some water replacing it. Unfortunately, over time, I discovered that my window of opportunity to eat and drink was quite small; if I missed it, if I somehow mistook it for a still-sick feeling, I would get sick all over again, only this time there would be nothing for me to heave up. And sleep? I could forget about sleep at that point. I would be up until the sun arrived, and then be able to sleep not a single wink.
I've progressed to the point now where I just accept it. I don't try to sleep, I just take my pillow and a blanket and camp out on the couch. I sit, and I read, and I wait for the inevitable. I've come to start munching on a few Cheerios here and there in between hurling sessions so I would be sure to catch that window of opportunity and be able to go back up to sleep. There's a feeling, a sense of my stomach being settled and sated, that is uncertain at first but then reassuring once I realize the nausea has gone. Once I hit that point, I'm awake for a short while longer, but when I am one hundred percent sure that I'm feeling better, then and only then can I go back upstairs to bed and get some rest.
Typically, the whole bout runs the same amount of time. Sometimes I'll have trouble falling asleep. Usually, I don't feel any different, but I wake up about 1 or 1:30 to use the bathroom (not terribly unusual) and as I settle back into bed, my feet will still feel cold, my legs will feel cold, and then I get the goosebumps. Then I know. I stay awake - and I find that if I just stay up and deal with it, it ends sooner - and if I'm lucky, I can head back to bed around 3:30 or so. If I try to fight it by snagging sleep in between queasy feelings, I will be downstairs until 5:30 or 6, for sure. So if I'm lucky, I can still snag a few hours of sleep before having to get up and do my thing during the day. If I'm not so lucky, I get absolutely no sleep, and then I'm good for nothing and need my husband to drive if I'm going out anywhere.
Tonight, I was unsure, but I thought I might feel a little bit of the sickness coming on. To try and head it off at the pass, I took an AdvilPM before heading to sleep. I've tried drugging myself in the past (Benadryl, NyQuil, AdvilPM - even Xanax, as prescribed by my now-retired doctor, when I first encountered the panic attacks) and it was never enough, not if the sickness had already started. The nausea would just cause the undigested pill to come right back up and be an expensive lesson in "Why You Shouldn't Take Pills When You Feel Like Puking." This time, at 11:30, I thought perhaps I would have caught it early enough to be able to get some form of rest and perhaps my body would just leave well enough alone.
For what it's worth, it helped. Between that, and deep breathing exercises, and focusing my thoughts on pleasant things rather than worrying things, not to mention a little aromatherapy spray (rose and lavender, mmm) I managed to fitfully sleep, for a time. Around 1:30, the nausea came. It was then that I tried my deep breathing, and I did manage to fall back asleep, but 2:30 came and my body decided it would have none of this. My stomach needed emptying, and it needed emptying now. Cue one of the most unpleasant hurling sessions of my life; having had an extra hour or so to digest its contents, what was produced was incredibly warm and very liquid, not to mention tasted horribly foul.
Thankfully, I think that was all the puking my body needed to do. I still feel a bit queasy, but I have been sitting here at the computer ever since, reading and writing and slowly munching on Cheerios, slowly drinking water and hoping my body will get back into gear so I can go back to bed before it starts getting light out. We've got curtains, but that doesn't always make it easier to sleep during the daytime hours.
Despite all of my rambling here, I did manage to have an epiphany tonight. Before I began to write, as a soothing way to pass the time until my body begins to feel better, I went back to look at other entries from when I've had this insomnia. Last one I wrote about was June 23rd. Before that, May 27th. Prior to that, January 15th, though I know I'd been sick in between January and May, even if I hadn't written about it.
Even a few weeks ago, while at AFO, I got sick. Sure, it was a hard lesson in why not to drink an alcoholic beverage while out of town at a convention (even when there's "not much" alcohol in it and it's not on an empty stomach) but I could also tell that my body was headed in the "stress sickness" direction anyway. It was actually a mercy that I got sick from the alcohol; even though I didn't get drunk, or even buzzed, the alcohol was enough to make me literally pass out in between running to empty my tummy, so I ended up getting more rest than if I had actually succumbed to this stress sickness. Ironic. Our table neighbors (who had gone to dinner with us) were surprised to see me as well-rested as I was.
I digress-- the point I am getting at, here, is that this sickness seems to come once a month. And, for some reason, over a year later, it finally clicked tonight: what else happens once a month? Oh sure, my cycle is regulated by an oral contraceptive, but that doesn't mean I don't feel the effects of hormones; if anything, somehow I think I am more sensitive to some of them. I'm convinced this sickness is hormonal now, even more so when thinking back on the panic attacks I used to have that were absolutely tied to the pills I had been taking at the time. My body is changing as it ages, and just like the tension migraines that seem to have entered the picture about two or three months ago, so too do I have to deal with these anxiety issues once a month. It's not calculable, at least not that I've found; even eating bland foods does not seem to keep it at bay.
What I once thought was food poisoning, I've now realized is automatic, is my body responding hormonally to some stress in my life. What that stress is, where it comes from, and how to get rid of it are all beyond me. It's interesting, though; I do feel a bit better in simply knowing that it's hormonal, and therefore a bodily function that I just have to accept, for now. I plan on talking with my doctor about it, for sure; something like this can be an indicator of underlying conditions I have no doubt, so perhaps we can begin to figure out what is causing it and why.
I'm cautiously looking toward the future, when I hopefully have no worries of falling asleep and staying that way.
I first encountered it probably a year ago, perhaps a little more than that. No, I take it back. I first encountered these symptoms a few years back, when I realized that my birth control pills I'd been taking were causing me to have panic attacks. Those panic attacks were pretty bad; I couldn't do much of anything. I couldn't sleep; I just looped into a spiral of downward thoughts, and I couldn't comprehend how anyone could smile because everyone was going to die some day, so what was the point. Pleasant, huh? No, there was nothing trendy or emo about my thoughts then - granted, I had not been to church in quite some time at that point, and while my faith had not changed it certainly hadn't been reinforced by other believers. No amount of listening to Christian music can substitute for real, living human beings that can pray with you and for you.
Once that got sorted - it was a generic brand of my birth control that was causing the panic attacks, despite the pharmacist insisting that generic should be exactly the same as the brand name - I ended up having to pay a little more per month for my prescription, but it was worth it not to have these horrible episodes any more.
Then a year ago, it started to come back. Not exactly the full-force doom and gloom I'd had before; this time, it was just an inability to sleep. Something, somehow, would trigger something inside of me that would cause my body to suddenly feel cold, goose bumps to appear all over, and whatever was in my stomach sunk straight to the bottom. It would result in repeated trips to the restroom; first to get rid of that which was already done digesting by the normal means, then to get rid of that which was most recently consumed, by a less pleasant route.
I finally learned that, chances are, I would be up until 4 or 5 in the morning with this stress sickness, and that fighting it would just make it worse. I grew thankful for the layout of our house, which allowed for me to go downstairs and spend time on the couch (whether tossing and turning, or using the computer, or whatever) instead of waking my husband up every twenty to thirty minutes with repeated runs to the john. On top of that, I learned to not even bother with trying to sleep until my body reached a certain point: that point was after everything had been voided from my system, through one end or the other, and a small amount of bland food (usually Cheerios) and some water replacing it. Unfortunately, over time, I discovered that my window of opportunity to eat and drink was quite small; if I missed it, if I somehow mistook it for a still-sick feeling, I would get sick all over again, only this time there would be nothing for me to heave up. And sleep? I could forget about sleep at that point. I would be up until the sun arrived, and then be able to sleep not a single wink.
I've progressed to the point now where I just accept it. I don't try to sleep, I just take my pillow and a blanket and camp out on the couch. I sit, and I read, and I wait for the inevitable. I've come to start munching on a few Cheerios here and there in between hurling sessions so I would be sure to catch that window of opportunity and be able to go back up to sleep. There's a feeling, a sense of my stomach being settled and sated, that is uncertain at first but then reassuring once I realize the nausea has gone. Once I hit that point, I'm awake for a short while longer, but when I am one hundred percent sure that I'm feeling better, then and only then can I go back upstairs to bed and get some rest.
Typically, the whole bout runs the same amount of time. Sometimes I'll have trouble falling asleep. Usually, I don't feel any different, but I wake up about 1 or 1:30 to use the bathroom (not terribly unusual) and as I settle back into bed, my feet will still feel cold, my legs will feel cold, and then I get the goosebumps. Then I know. I stay awake - and I find that if I just stay up and deal with it, it ends sooner - and if I'm lucky, I can head back to bed around 3:30 or so. If I try to fight it by snagging sleep in between queasy feelings, I will be downstairs until 5:30 or 6, for sure. So if I'm lucky, I can still snag a few hours of sleep before having to get up and do my thing during the day. If I'm not so lucky, I get absolutely no sleep, and then I'm good for nothing and need my husband to drive if I'm going out anywhere.
Tonight, I was unsure, but I thought I might feel a little bit of the sickness coming on. To try and head it off at the pass, I took an AdvilPM before heading to sleep. I've tried drugging myself in the past (Benadryl, NyQuil, AdvilPM - even Xanax, as prescribed by my now-retired doctor, when I first encountered the panic attacks) and it was never enough, not if the sickness had already started. The nausea would just cause the undigested pill to come right back up and be an expensive lesson in "Why You Shouldn't Take Pills When You Feel Like Puking." This time, at 11:30, I thought perhaps I would have caught it early enough to be able to get some form of rest and perhaps my body would just leave well enough alone.
For what it's worth, it helped. Between that, and deep breathing exercises, and focusing my thoughts on pleasant things rather than worrying things, not to mention a little aromatherapy spray (rose and lavender, mmm) I managed to fitfully sleep, for a time. Around 1:30, the nausea came. It was then that I tried my deep breathing, and I did manage to fall back asleep, but 2:30 came and my body decided it would have none of this. My stomach needed emptying, and it needed emptying now. Cue one of the most unpleasant hurling sessions of my life; having had an extra hour or so to digest its contents, what was produced was incredibly warm and very liquid, not to mention tasted horribly foul.
Thankfully, I think that was all the puking my body needed to do. I still feel a bit queasy, but I have been sitting here at the computer ever since, reading and writing and slowly munching on Cheerios, slowly drinking water and hoping my body will get back into gear so I can go back to bed before it starts getting light out. We've got curtains, but that doesn't always make it easier to sleep during the daytime hours.
Despite all of my rambling here, I did manage to have an epiphany tonight. Before I began to write, as a soothing way to pass the time until my body begins to feel better, I went back to look at other entries from when I've had this insomnia. Last one I wrote about was June 23rd. Before that, May 27th. Prior to that, January 15th, though I know I'd been sick in between January and May, even if I hadn't written about it.
Even a few weeks ago, while at AFO, I got sick. Sure, it was a hard lesson in why not to drink an alcoholic beverage while out of town at a convention (even when there's "not much" alcohol in it and it's not on an empty stomach) but I could also tell that my body was headed in the "stress sickness" direction anyway. It was actually a mercy that I got sick from the alcohol; even though I didn't get drunk, or even buzzed, the alcohol was enough to make me literally pass out in between running to empty my tummy, so I ended up getting more rest than if I had actually succumbed to this stress sickness. Ironic. Our table neighbors (who had gone to dinner with us) were surprised to see me as well-rested as I was.
I digress-- the point I am getting at, here, is that this sickness seems to come once a month. And, for some reason, over a year later, it finally clicked tonight: what else happens once a month? Oh sure, my cycle is regulated by an oral contraceptive, but that doesn't mean I don't feel the effects of hormones; if anything, somehow I think I am more sensitive to some of them. I'm convinced this sickness is hormonal now, even more so when thinking back on the panic attacks I used to have that were absolutely tied to the pills I had been taking at the time. My body is changing as it ages, and just like the tension migraines that seem to have entered the picture about two or three months ago, so too do I have to deal with these anxiety issues once a month. It's not calculable, at least not that I've found; even eating bland foods does not seem to keep it at bay.
What I once thought was food poisoning, I've now realized is automatic, is my body responding hormonally to some stress in my life. What that stress is, where it comes from, and how to get rid of it are all beyond me. It's interesting, though; I do feel a bit better in simply knowing that it's hormonal, and therefore a bodily function that I just have to accept, for now. I plan on talking with my doctor about it, for sure; something like this can be an indicator of underlying conditions I have no doubt, so perhaps we can begin to figure out what is causing it and why.
I'm cautiously looking toward the future, when I hopefully have no worries of falling asleep and staying that way.