I wrote part of this post during the year (2013) where I descended into a pit of darkness after a very long time of living mostly panic free. I have spent the last year building my life back up. I got physically weak and needed time to exercise and address changes I needed to make for my life to be happy and fulfilling and realize some dreams I had. I can now find the time and energy to write again. I posted a few posts here and there but couldn't keep up with being consistent.
As is typical with severe panic disorder we are well and then we are not. Our worst fear has come true. It's back. We are faced with the fact that our assumption that we've made a breakthrough and are never going to go through THAT again was wishful thinking. Then suddenly like a slap in the face, there is no room for extra curricular activity or writing (that is helpful to anyone or makes any sense) or reading a book. Every minute of every day we are in battle. At war. We are exhausted by the end of the day and yet it lingers into the night keeping us from the healing sleep our body needs so desperately. It is so sadly ironic because during this time of weakness we just get worse when we get the slightest inkling of a symptom of a sickness from all the "what ifs".
For a long time my life had become manageable and fun. After years of healing from a marriage full of strife and a divorce I was starting to live again. I was going out with friends and found my way back to writing and selling antiques on the side. I needed creative outlets to counter the rigid work I do for a living but hadn't had the energy or desire until now. Then my world got turned upside down with a major life change when my 95 year old Aunt Connie had to move in with us because she was physically unable to care for herself on a daily basis. We had high hopes for this arrangement. Our beloved aunt would be with us and bring joy into our home. She was a great storyteller and had lived an interesting life. Those hopes shattered when we saw how she had changed into a bitter, cruel and negative person. She drained our joy and our energy. She abused her sister (my mother who was not well herself and who I was already caring for) and demanded much more attention than we had anticipated.
The stress of the responsibility of caring for someone who needed constant attention and filled the air with negative energy took its toll on everyone. Work got more demanding while the company I worked for took on a new endeavor starting a new location from scratch. I was being run ragged and my emotions were all over the place. It all became too much for me.
I saw and felt it coming but was quite helpless to stop it. What had to be done had to be done. Suck it up and do it, I kept telling myself. My body and my mind told me a different story. It stopped me in my tracks, cold and hard, mean and nasty. I couldn't help but fall hard and struggle as hard as I could to get out of the slimy tar-like pit that had hold of me and was slowly smothering me. Choking me.
Not only did the frequency of attacks increase, the intensity of them grew - like I had gone back in time before all my tools and behavioral therapy and God centered help. I knew why it was happening but I didn't know how to stop it again and go back to a time when I had control, not the panic. I felt trapped with no way out.
We did try hiring a nurse to come in 3 days a week but my aunt made her life and ours miserable. After a year and a half of watching my mother's health decline and knowing how sick I was getting again we were able to convince my aunt to go to live with another family member who then convinced her that she needed more care than any of us could give her so she would have to move into a nursing home. No one wants to do this to a loved one but when there isn't any other choice it has to be done. My mother wasn't able to be firm with her and help her understand we weren't doing this to hurt her. Her 82 year old, sick sister could not care for her as she had promised her many years ago. I worked full time. The guilt was eating at my mother and my aunt was using that guilt and emotionally beating us up.
It has taken all this time, a lot of work and a lot of time spent with God to find my way back to the manageable and more peaceful life I had been living.
So here I am to share and give hope to those in the throws right now who don't see the end. I am feeling better. We do fight. We are fighters and survivors. Our condition has trained us how to do that. We are smart and creative people. We are sensitive and have a desire to solve problems. So finally the sweet taste of victory comes because we were able to create and implement solutions to the thing or things that threw us back onto the roller coaster ride of flying down into the pit and swirling all around, up and down until finally we turn the corner and begin to slow down and gratefully come to the end. For now. I still believe I can be delivered from this condition but I am happy to feel some semblance of freedom from the bondage I was in.
The crippling fear has been beaten back into submission. Into the pit it came from.
