Abundant Anxiety continued
Okay, I probably haven't time to write up properly about Sunday but I'll give it a go. Need to start at some point anyway. Now, where did I get up to? Okay. So Sunday, I woke up about 15 mins before my alarm was to go off (as had been the case for quite a few days) which was fine. Nothing to worry about - I even got there ON TIME!!! which made a change! So was very happy with that but still felt a bit of a bundle of nerves. Both Phil and Ana kept reassuring me that the questions weren't a test, which I know, but it didn't help simply because I already knew that! Never mind; they tried, which was kind of them.
Anyway, answering the questions I knew the answers (obviously) but just couldn't get the right words. I had to keep stopping to think of what I wanted to try and say, and then to try to work out what word I needed. Not fun, and it often happens that I forget what I'm saying, but it hasn't felt this bad for a while. He understood though - they're both very perceptive and know when something's wrong, plus he already knew because Ana had asked if I was okay, and I briefly just said not really! So Phil knowing helped, because there's nothing worse than having to try to pretend everything's fine, especially when it clearly isn't. He was very understanding, so yay. He's had lots of experience, with Ana having huge problems of her own (poor guy, having to spend time with us two nutcases!) so I felt that he understood, even if not as a sufferer but as a ... whatever the word is.
I felt pretty lightheaded by the end of it, which he said was due to anxiety, and ached a bit sort of in my intestinal area (anxiety again, I know). After that, Celsa had phoned to cancel her study so Ana and I watched a video about how the Bible has survived to our day. It was very interesting, very encouraging and probably just what we both needed. One point that stood out to me was the hypocrisy of the Catholic church: they excommunicated Martin Luther for translating the Bible into the vernacular, yet didn't excommunicate Hitler?!? Where's the sense in that?! Interestingly enough one priest involved in persecuting and burning alive those who tried to make the Bible available to people, said that he didn't care whether those burning were innocent or guilty, as long as it kept the masses in fear. Huh, such wonderful, caring clergy were around in those days! I think not. But I digress.
After that we had lunch, and I still felt strange; in fact, more so if anything. (Lunch was very nice though.) During the talk I started feeling sick and quite woozy, and very shaky inside. I managed to concentrate, but could just feel myself getting more and more wound up for no reason. I just about managed to answer up in the Watchtower but sort of wished I'd kept my mouth shut because I gave such a horrendously rubbish answer - and yet it was all I could manage to string together. It took enough energy and mental effort to get out one simple, obvious sentence (and only just) that there was no way I'd have been able to think of anything like my usual answers. That was very frustrating actually - usually I can give answers that actually have been thought about, but it felt like even that had been taken away from me.
That said, before going to the meeting I hadn't been sure I'd last out even until the end of the talk. I'd had thoughts go through my mind about having a panic attack or fainting or just having to go out to calm myself down, and that fortunately didn't happen. I have Jehovah to thank for that, certainly. So to actually even manage to answer was quite an achievement at that point. Doesn't make me feel much better right now though.
After the meeting I felt really odd, and as though there were tears somewhere nearby; I didn't realise how close I was though. I managed to talk to Andrea, auntie Gladys (briefly) and a few others whilst holding myself together. Lightheaded, sick, shaky, unsteady - I was pretty surprised when my hands didn't seem to be shaking, because I felt I was quaking like ... I don't know, something that quakes a lot. I went over to say hi to auntie Lisa and Tracy, and tell Tracy how great it was to see her again (her husband is very much opposed to her being a Witness and makes life very difficult, so when she can get there - especially with the children - it's wonderful) but auntie Lisa asked me how I was right away, which was when I broke down. I did manage to say what I wanted to Tracy, just about (through tears!) but then she left auntie Lisa and I to it. Brothers and sisters are always lovely and sensitive like that. So I just poured it out, with a few lovely hugs from her (they are amazing!) and felt a bit better for having at least released it a bit. The worst was to come though.
I was going to go on the ministry, and was quite ready for it (or so I thought) but after the brief group for ministry, Ana spoke to me and commended me for having got so far and asked if I was really up to ministry. I had thought I was, but then crumpled again. I remember almost bumping into Aidan as I rushed to get some tissue from the toilet, and attempted to compose myself. Tried again - I came out of the toilets and overheard Ana saying to uncle Kevin something along the lines of 'think she should go home' and I went to stand by them, and they asked if I was up to it. Found it exceedingly difficult even for those 10 or 15 seconds to hold myself together and the short time between not crying and going into the mothers' room I vaguely remember not much! But I remember saying 'I don't think I'm up to it' and starting crying again, and then I remember uncle Kevin putting his hand on my shoulder - you know when you hug someone and rub your hand on their back a bit? Like that, in a consoling kind of way. That was quite comforting, and then Ana took me into the mothers' room and we had a short chat. I can't remember what was said, but I do remember not knowing what to do with myself, whether to laugh or cry, whether I was up to ministry or not, but in the end we decided it was best I just go home. I felt bad for brother Yao, thinking he had a partner and then not having one, but he seemed fine with it when he passed a little later on (Ana informed him for me).
After that I stood around for a little, waiting for Phil to finish nattering so I could be taken home. Ana sat down and said to sit beside her, which was good because I was feeling very lightheaded - more so than before. I just didn't know what to do with myself - tried holding it together, with a measure of success, but at some point between thinking I was going out and then, I'd started physically shaking, so much so that Ana first thought I was cold. Just about kept it together for a while, then started crying again so Ana took us to the car. I felt really bad not speaking properly to Lydia and Simon when we passed them on the way out and they said goodbye, but I wasn't up to it. In the car I sat trying to hold it in, but after a short while Ana said 'I don't mind if you cry, darling. Don't hold it in' which set me off again but was a relief. At that point it just seemed like I'd never stop crying; I couldn't imagine feeling okay enough to be able to. At the same time I felt awful though, because she knows what it's like, and so to witness first-hand anyone suffer that must be absolutely horrible, and it's not as if she hasn't her own problems either. She said to me 'I'm so sorry to see you suffer like this' which brought another wave of tears. It is however so very liberating knowing that somebody fully understands, and having their support - there's not much that can be practically done to help but I know that if there were she would, and the moral support and understanding counts for so much. Probably more than any practical gesture would, to be honest.
Do you know, even when I came so close to losing my mind a while ago (it was rock bottom in terms of actually being able to concentrate on or think about anything - every single thought that passed through my mind was questioned. I didn't know what were my thoughts and what were those induced by the OCD and even wondered for a while if I were possessed by a demon!) I didn't ever cry like that, or ever feel that ill, or ever feel that trapped. I can't describe it. It's sort of a blur of tears and absolute pit of despair. I'm wondering now if that was a panic attack, or just close to - or just overwhelming anxiety being released. I can't really remember anything physical other than the tears; just that it hurt so much and I wanted to curl up and go to sleep and never wake again. I guess technically as before that my heart had been going like the clappers, I was shaking, feeling lightheaded, and then I actually felt completely detached, it was.
To top it all, I opened my eyes when my nose felt really very disgustingly runny - it was a nosebleed. Of course. A nosebleed in itself - fine, I can cope. But I had to go back in, with people still around, try and clean myself up while I still just wanted to collapse and expire. Very soon it became apparent that crying whilst holding one's nose in order to stop bleeding just doesn't work - I guess in a way that's how I started to calm down, because I had no choice. Not that I was calm at any point until the next morning (was I calm then? Oh, no. But.) but it helped ease it a little. Nice and ironic there.
I've got to the point now where my brain has almost completed its transformation to mush, so I shall have to leave it. Suffice it to say that I haven't felt normal at all since Friday. I've been almost constantly lightheaded, more often than not feeling sick, headache, loss of visual focus, and generally feeling a bit nauseated with very little appetite. Not to mention complete exhaustion and overall feeling of lethargy.
Monday was: job centre, library, Cedars fiddle fiesta. Tuesday (yesterday): trying to do something useful (failed), Harlington fiddle fiesta, group. Today: trying again to be useful (failed again), tutoring, LYO. So a normal week whilst feeling a wreck. I can see why depression is so very co-morbid with anxiety disorders. It would be so easy to feel sorry for myself, and in all honesty I would just like to spend a month or so in bed with the hope of sleeping it off, and I just do not feel like doing anything whatsoever. I can't even get enthusiastic about ... well, anything, right now. Tomorrow's plans are: ministry, prepare for meeting, meeting. Friday: driving lesson, ministry, Redborne fiddle fiesta. I don't feel excited about any of it. In fact, the only emotion I get from any of it is dread. Crazy, absolutely crazy. Tomorrow should be a brilliant day, doing the three activities I absolutely love the most, and then Friday should be great too - productive and fun. But I don't want to do any of it; I just would like to curl up into a little ball and let everything pass me by. However, I know that I must push myself as far as possible because otherwise depressed feelings'll creep in and I can definitely see myself ending up developing agoraphobia of one form or another. Drastic result yes, but from small beginnings. It's what would happen if I let myself not do anything I didn't want to for a few weeks. Must do it while I can to prevent that from happening!
It is difficult to remain positive, and even just this hour spent recounting it I can see what could happen in terms of becoming a recluse - and that's not even taking into account the completely soul-destroying effect that 'giving in' to OCD has, or to whatever else may be specific to other conditions.
Just one last thing: there are panic attacks, and there are light symptom attacks. I realised I've been having pretty much waves of light symptom attacks since Saturday afternoon, if not before. Fun. This evening at LYO was probably the worst I've felt for a medium-length of time since Sunday though - I just wanted to get out of there asap, and I kept sort of wanting to faint purely to alleviate the lightheadedness. There were points at which I had to try to control the breathing because I knew if I didn't I would probably start to have a full panic attack. That would have not only been scary (by definition) but embarrassing. Plus I'm not sure observing someone having one is much fun for anyone else, so yeah. Oh, also, interestingly enough, Cass's barking when I went tutoring made me feel so dizzy that I seem to recall thinking I might fall over, and going momentarily sort of half-blind, because my brain was so concentrating on keeping my body standing that it shut out any recognition of visual stimulus. Interesting. Also when the music to which I am listening went a bit too loud, it had a similar effect but whilst sitting so the vision stayed.
It is fascinating that the physical effects are probably equally distressing as the mental effects, if not more so at times. I certainly know why Ana talks about nerves beating a person up - they do, both physically, mentally; and in fact emotionally too. They drain one so much that emotions are affected certainly.
I would like to end with a disclaimer, similar to that with which I started my previous post. This was not intended to be a wallowing, self-pitying post, rather to a) clear my mind, and b) to give a bit of insight to others who haven't experienced this sort of thing, or to this extent. The one final thing I would like to point out though is that it has the potential to be a lot worse, and it is a very real possibility that it could be. So there are millions of other people suffering even more, and likely I shall I some point. However, humans are surprisingly resilient, and we cope with what we have to!