Tuesday, 3 November 2009

Running on Empty

So... remember the Adventure I Could've Done Without? The trip to Accident and Emergency? The chest pains that turned out to be an anxiety attack?

Seems it was the beginning of an anxiety 'cycle'. I'm not familiar enough with Anxiety Disorder to know about this stuff – but apparently it's something that, if nipped in the bud, will go away fairly quickly. There was no nippage in this case. I semi-merrily trundled along, wondering why my lung capacity seemed to be shrinking.

After a few stressful moments on the Phillip Island pilgrimage and the ride home, I couldn't switch it off. I desperately needed to talk to my bloke, but he had issues of his own, and it was a bit like those cool domino set-ups where one single domino causes about a million other intricately-arranged dominoes to topple in a pattern resembling the annexation of Europe, or traces the outline of the Mona Lisa or something.

And then I just couldn't breathe. Well, obviously I could breathe enough to stay alive, but my lungs would only partially fill. After four days of fighting for breath, and getting increasingly frightened, I gave up and saw the doc.

Guess what? I got some short-term, heavy-duty froot-loop drugs to get me over the hump – a sort of low-dose Valium lookalike. Erk, do you know how scary that is? We've all grown up with stories of Benzo's being known as “Mother's Little Helper', and all the Stepford Wife types being whacked out on Benzodiazapenes (is that how you spell them?). The last thing I want to do is swap a head problem for a drug problem..... Sheeeee-it!

I am assured, though, that within 2 weeks I'll be back to whatever passes for normal, apparently, and can wean myself off Mother's Little Helper. Phew. This anxiety is serious shit.

But then what?

Here's the sad bit....the fall-out...

Me and my bloke are no more. He's too laid-back and I'm too uptight – a recipe for disaster. We both recognise that, I guess, and both want to maintain the great friendship that existed long before he became 'my bloke'. But I still can't help feeling sad about the 'might've beens', and I still care about him well beyond the limits of 'friendship'.... Not sure how to get past that, but if there's a way, I'll find it, because I am Resourceful Betty.

So.... nil desperandum! The best fix for a sad-attack is a kickarse ride, so I have two in the pipeline before Christmas. Watch this space...


Jimmy Nightingale said...

Sorry to hear that life has been giving you such a hard time. I hope that the medication does kick in and take those horrible feelings away. Just don't wash them down with anything stronger than water and you'll be fine.

I'm trying to imagine you as a Stepford wife. A good story idea in there...

Sue said...

Hiya Jimmy - I'll bounce back, no worries. When I'm winding through the mountains in a couple of weeks I'll be saying to myself "anxiety? what's THAT?"

Julie said...

Having been prescribed the "mother's little helpers" earlier this year, I know how you feel. They aren't the nicest things to be on, but they do get you down enough off that crest of near-panic to let you start to move forward.

Don't despair!

If ya need to talk, text me and I'll call you.

j xx