(no subject)
So I'm sitting here at 11pm decided to write an entry after so long because i just averted an almost full scale panic attack, again. I had the same thing happen to me not even 1 month ago, at it was the scariest most core shakingly terrifying thing i think i have ever gone through. Processing the thoughts of, "this is it.. im not going to see my kids again' is a feeling that still now brings me to tears, and almost wills on another panic attack. my mind is unwell. I can not shake the constant negative, dark thoughts on myself or someone close to me dying or falling ill. I cant lift the constant grey haze that is clouding my vision. I cant, for all my searching, find the excitement that used to make me feel as if i were paper thin. Instead i feel like a lead weight, everyday is a struggle. Everything about the way i am seeing life is just, miserable. It seems like i could go to the most beautiful place in the world and not have it register as being any different from the place i am now.
A quote from the book 'eat, pray, love' discribes treating her battle with depression and anxiety as 'the fight of her life'. She could have taken the words right from my mouth (had she not written the book years earlier). But honestly i feel like iam researching and arming myself with all the information and tools and powerful weapons i can to fight this monsterous thing, this thing.. which.. is me. Or more so a faint glimmer of who i used to be crying out through the long winding labrynth of my mind, screaming out for someone, anyone to help me take back the wheel from whatever it is that has taken my power away. My mind which is literally cluttered with thoughts of terminal illnesss and death, and the fact that no body really cares much about anyone else, that we are literally in this thing alone. well except i have two innocent little angels who are looking to me to save them and protect them from a world that is so cruel and so taxing. And in all this thinking and analyzing and trying to find a way back to reality, ive come to realise that the thing that sent me spiraling down this path (probably along side a few other things) was when Montana was finally admitted to hospital with a severe lung infection, on oxygen for 5 days, spontaneously spweing water her from her lungs at one point as if it were an eruption from core after our 4th visit to emergency, having montana so devestatingly ill and knowing that there is somethign serious going on and having drs turn me away with 'its just another common cold' or atleast one particular dr.. who then proceeded to in my opinion almost near torture my already weak, dehydrated, stuggling to breathe, high temped, tired little girl by jabbing into her hand nearly 5 times because HE had turned her away so many times that she was so dehydrated they couldnt get a line in, she used up whatever tiny amount of energy she had lift her little body to scream, "mummy"... and i couldnt help her.
And at so many other points, neither could these so called proffessionals. they had no idea what was wrong, or.. they couldnt be bothered looking into it. they never have to see us again as far as they know, they dont suffer the pain of losing that child, they dont hurt all night long, they dont INVEST any emotion because they are trained not to, so where does that leave us when we need help? when something really is wrong? if the people who are trained to help us, dont give a damn... then what more can a simple mother, who in all honesty would rather be able to fix the problem herself than have to outsource help from a stranger, what more can that mother do than watch her child derteriate? why does the responsibility fall on is to HOUND these people to help us? isnt that why they wanted to become drs in the first place? did they lay in bed at night dreaming of the day they could save someones life? or did they just dream about having a reserved car park and a nice car.
I am scared that when i cant fix something on my own,, and i really need help.. it wont be there.
A quote from the book 'eat, pray, love' discribes treating her battle with depression and anxiety as 'the fight of her life'. She could have taken the words right from my mouth (had she not written the book years earlier). But honestly i feel like iam researching and arming myself with all the information and tools and powerful weapons i can to fight this monsterous thing, this thing.. which.. is me. Or more so a faint glimmer of who i used to be crying out through the long winding labrynth of my mind, screaming out for someone, anyone to help me take back the wheel from whatever it is that has taken my power away. My mind which is literally cluttered with thoughts of terminal illnesss and death, and the fact that no body really cares much about anyone else, that we are literally in this thing alone. well except i have two innocent little angels who are looking to me to save them and protect them from a world that is so cruel and so taxing. And in all this thinking and analyzing and trying to find a way back to reality, ive come to realise that the thing that sent me spiraling down this path (probably along side a few other things) was when Montana was finally admitted to hospital with a severe lung infection, on oxygen for 5 days, spontaneously spweing water her from her lungs at one point as if it were an eruption from core after our 4th visit to emergency, having montana so devestatingly ill and knowing that there is somethign serious going on and having drs turn me away with 'its just another common cold' or atleast one particular dr.. who then proceeded to in my opinion almost near torture my already weak, dehydrated, stuggling to breathe, high temped, tired little girl by jabbing into her hand nearly 5 times because HE had turned her away so many times that she was so dehydrated they couldnt get a line in, she used up whatever tiny amount of energy she had lift her little body to scream, "mummy"... and i couldnt help her.
And at so many other points, neither could these so called proffessionals. they had no idea what was wrong, or.. they couldnt be bothered looking into it. they never have to see us again as far as they know, they dont suffer the pain of losing that child, they dont hurt all night long, they dont INVEST any emotion because they are trained not to, so where does that leave us when we need help? when something really is wrong? if the people who are trained to help us, dont give a damn... then what more can a simple mother, who in all honesty would rather be able to fix the problem herself than have to outsource help from a stranger, what more can that mother do than watch her child derteriate? why does the responsibility fall on is to HOUND these people to help us? isnt that why they wanted to become drs in the first place? did they lay in bed at night dreaming of the day they could save someones life? or did they just dream about having a reserved car park and a nice car.
I am scared that when i cant fix something on my own,, and i really need help.. it wont be there.