Thursday, May 23rd, 2019 06:33 pm
i am not living my best week
Sunday I started getting sick, so sensibly, I took off Monday and went to work Tuesday feeling better. Tuesday night, I had what was unmistakably the beginning of my first panic attack in almost two years and so took off Wednesday and Thursday.
My first reaction was utter 'this is bullshit' before stomping into the kitchen and shoving my hand into the bin of ice from the automatic ice maker and left it there until my attention fixed on sheer 'ouch'. That worked, which was nice. Then I took less than a quarter xanax to follow up, which cleared the rest out and left the comforting patina of sheer rage this shit happened again.
(Yes I am a lightweight; half a xanax kncks me out and a quarter makes me spacey. So I broke it into quarters then carefully into a powdery eighth. Unless I"m having dental surgery, I hate spacey.)
(This not strictly be best CBT practices but as I learned as a teenage cutter and then as a thirty-something with depression: when all else fails, pain or pleasure will accomplish the same thing as control-alt-delete on a computer, and as the ice was closer than my vibrator and take less time, it won.)
Of course, what I want to do is hunt down the nearest working psychologist--preferably with a degree in psychiatry but not necessary--sit them down, and explain, I get it, it's mental, we don't know because brain but listen, you don't understand, there was no earthly reason for it to show up while I'm having a strong resurgence of what feels like my constant sinus infection. It's shaped like two eggs set end to end on their narrow side like a figure eight--what does that even fucking mean? I didn't remember that part until I felt it. There were no weird warning signs--dude, I am so aware of warning signs, I am all about those fucking warning signs, I have breathing exercises and a walking rate and in inhaler and I ask for help like a sensible person, what the fuck else am I missing? WHAT AM I DOING WRONG?
I would never think like this about someone else. Since I was in my teens and first read about mental illness (in fiction), I never questioned how someone relates their experience, how they can't control it, how it just happens, how they handle it; it's indecent to imagine anyone, anywhere, could dare to sit judgment on another when it comes to that. I honestly can't fathom the hubris required to do that.
My own depression--I think in some ways, in the back of my mind, I did think I was overstating it, but I was sensible about it; fortunately, I never had my mother's or sister's life experiences to trigger it more often and get hold.
The addition of anxiety however, brought it out into the open; I am really fucking judgy of myself. What kind of hubris do you have to have to assume you're that goddamn special that you can magically work out cause/effect and stop it if you just try hard enough and obviously you're just not trying?
Most of Tuesday night I fumed about this shit and then on wednesday had the good sense to simply call down my list (my mom,![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lillian13) and tell them I'm feeling shaky and what's going on with you and listen. Third way to deal with this bullshit when you're not at critical that I learned the hard way: people. Not to talk about my feelings--the last thing I need is to get any farther into my head, but to balance that with the world outside it--but to hear a friendly voice and about their lives and what they're doing and how they are.
If I'd been even a little more stable, I would have taken half a ritalin and grimly started doing dishes. Physical activity is number four on my deal list, specifically useful activity I don't particularly enjoy; for reasons unclear, I get a weird ass kick from it. Coding and writing, my usual go-to, were obviously off the table; I needed out of my head, not further in.
This has been some venting of bullshit.
My first reaction was utter 'this is bullshit' before stomping into the kitchen and shoving my hand into the bin of ice from the automatic ice maker and left it there until my attention fixed on sheer 'ouch'. That worked, which was nice. Then I took less than a quarter xanax to follow up, which cleared the rest out and left the comforting patina of sheer rage this shit happened again.
(Yes I am a lightweight; half a xanax kncks me out and a quarter makes me spacey. So I broke it into quarters then carefully into a powdery eighth. Unless I"m having dental surgery, I hate spacey.)
(This not strictly be best CBT practices but as I learned as a teenage cutter and then as a thirty-something with depression: when all else fails, pain or pleasure will accomplish the same thing as control-alt-delete on a computer, and as the ice was closer than my vibrator and take less time, it won.)
Of course, what I want to do is hunt down the nearest working psychologist--preferably with a degree in psychiatry but not necessary--sit them down, and explain, I get it, it's mental, we don't know because brain but listen, you don't understand, there was no earthly reason for it to show up while I'm having a strong resurgence of what feels like my constant sinus infection. It's shaped like two eggs set end to end on their narrow side like a figure eight--what does that even fucking mean? I didn't remember that part until I felt it. There were no weird warning signs--dude, I am so aware of warning signs, I am all about those fucking warning signs, I have breathing exercises and a walking rate and in inhaler and I ask for help like a sensible person, what the fuck else am I missing? WHAT AM I DOING WRONG?
I would never think like this about someone else. Since I was in my teens and first read about mental illness (in fiction), I never questioned how someone relates their experience, how they can't control it, how it just happens, how they handle it; it's indecent to imagine anyone, anywhere, could dare to sit judgment on another when it comes to that. I honestly can't fathom the hubris required to do that.
My own depression--I think in some ways, in the back of my mind, I did think I was overstating it, but I was sensible about it; fortunately, I never had my mother's or sister's life experiences to trigger it more often and get hold.
The addition of anxiety however, brought it out into the open; I am really fucking judgy of myself. What kind of hubris do you have to have to assume you're that goddamn special that you can magically work out cause/effect and stop it if you just try hard enough and obviously you're just not trying?
Most of Tuesday night I fumed about this shit and then on wednesday had the good sense to simply call down my list (my mom,
lillian13) and tell them I'm feeling shaky and what's going on with you and listen. Third way to deal with this bullshit when you're not at critical that I learned the hard way: people. Not to talk about my feelings--the last thing I need is to get any farther into my head, but to balance that with the world outside it--but to hear a friendly voice and about their lives and what they're doing and how they are.If I'd been even a little more stable, I would have taken half a ritalin and grimly started doing dishes. Physical activity is number four on my deal list, specifically useful activity I don't particularly enjoy; for reasons unclear, I get a weird ass kick from it. Coding and writing, my usual go-to, were obviously off the table; I needed out of my head, not further in.
This has been some venting of bullshit.
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From:I can't explain why, but sinus infections (different from all other infections) make me lose my mind. Maybe because the sinuses are so close to the brain? I totally fall apart, become extremely emotional and feel really fragile in a way that is out-of-proportion to how sick I actually am.
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From:I can use half a peach xanax as a sleep aid, which isn't even kiddie dose.
https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/therapists (filter by insurance, need, etc.)
My out-of-nowhere anxiety attacks, like my out-of-nowhere depression cycles, can usually be explained by my therapist or my psych, not always the same answer. And yet they still feel unnecessary and like a failure on my part.
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From:*tiny fistbump of same*
I can use half a peach xanax as a sleep aid, which isn't even kiddie dose.
Yep, the 0.5 mg? About half puts me right to sleep. Honestly, it's probably one of the least stressing sleep aids in that it makes me feel sleepy beforehand instead of something not unlike being shot-put into sleep will-me, nil-me, wait-what-me. Which puts it way over my one experience with valium and my short-lived jaunt with ambien (a period whch ended around the time post-ambien-taking chat logs exist because ambien is not to be trusted).
My doctor prescribed me four back in SEmptember--which is literally exactly how many I asked for--before my first flight since This Thing Started. (Note: not needed, I did what i always do when airborne and fell asleep so anticlimactic but the awesome kind). Since Tuesday I used half, and I use the word 'used' loosely since they don't split well at that level.
My out-of-nowhere anxiety attacks, like my out-of-nowhere depression cycles, can usually be explained by my therapist or my psych, not always the same answer. And yet they still feel unnecessary and like a failure on my part.
This. It's the clash of logics for me at least; logic states cause --> effect, and therefore if y is occurring, x must have triggered it, so I must have done unknown 'x' and I caused this. Logic also states what we know for sure about the brain is 'it's there and does things' and gets sketchier from there, and that's from people who spend their lives studying it. If they can't tell me a hard why--and that's kind of their job--it's fairly obvious I'm not failing at proper brain maintenance due to sheer laziness or something because I can't work it out.
It's so stupid; why brain why indeed.
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From:https://www.amazon.com/Dialectical-Behavior-Therapy-Workbook-Anxiety/dp/1572249544/
Cannot recommend highly enough. Also I'm sorry your brain is being shitty to you, and I love you.
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