by Band Back Together | Aug 20, 2016 | Anger, Anxiety, Anxiety Disorders, Bipolar Disorder, Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, Coping With Anxiety Disorders, Coping With Depression, Feelings, Generalized Anxiety Disorder Resources, Loving Someone With Bipolar Disorder, Major Depressive Disorder, Teen Sexuality |
“Teenage hormones”
“Depression”
“Chemical imbalance”
“Post Traumatic Stress Disorder”
“Postpartum Depression”
“Seasonal Affective Disorder”
“Bipolar”
“Generalized Anxiety Disorder”
Since I was 15 years old, I’ve been diagnosed with one thing after another.
It’s like a revolving door. Or a carousel of diagnoses. Like a really bad carnival ride, where you just want off, but it seems like it won’t end. Ever.
Usually I get a new label because we’ve run through the gamut of medication that is supposed to “solve” one problem, only to find that none of them work.
Or I have changed providers.
So I fill out another 500 question sheet of paper, which of course has answers that are completely dependent on what day of the week it is, what time of the day it is and whether or not I got any sleep the night before.
Then after this highly scientific deduction process, I’m given a new prescription to go with my new label and sent on my merry way.
Only to fall flat on my ass at some point (and I do mean fall, like rock-bottom), and have to start all over again.
This is why I’m a big fan of saying that medicine alone is not enough. I fully believe medicine is a hugely helpful tool. But I also think that it needs to be in conjunction with some form of therapy.
Of course, that doesn’t explain why I haven’t managed to make it to my appointments with my therapist in the last couple months…
by Band Back Together | Jul 22, 2016 | Anxiety, Anxiety Disorders, Coping With Anxiety Disorders, Emotional Regulation, Feelings, Generalized Anxiety Disorder Resources, Happiness, Hope, Loneliness, Mental Health, Stress, Trust |
Anxiety and panic can strike us out of nowhere.
This is his story:
As my work day began to wind down on Friday, I got antsy as I looked forward to Saturday’s big duck hunt with my son, Bryan. My excitement level was high as it’s always a great time getting my boy into the woods and watching him learn the ways of the wild. We also have the opportunity to put some tasty treats in the freezer.
I called Bryan into school on Friday and took him to work with me as we were hunting just a few miles from work. I work fifty miles from home and it’s senseless to make the the long drive home just to come right back Saturday. We decided to stay with my in-laws -the best a man could ask for- instead, which is only twenty miles away.
Around 10 PM, after a bit of good conversation and some TV at my in-laws, my father in-law hit the sack. My son and I figured it was probably a good idea too, as our 3:30 am wake up call would be upon us shortly. Bryan was out in no time, but no sooner had my head hit the pillow, my mind started reeling. I have no idea why, but it was going into overdrive at an alarming rate, even as I did my best to fight it.
I thought it was just the excitement of the next day’s events and would wear off soon, but wow, was I wrong.
In a matter of minutes I was up pacing through the house, my mouth dry, my breaths rapid. My mind could not concentrate on any one thing.
I was having a panic attack and my medications were 75 miles away. That’s right, I forgot them at home. I had been doing great lately, and it never really crossed my mind to bring them along just in case.
Well here I was in the midst of a full-blown panic and had no idea what to do. I picked up the phone and called my wife, knowing full well that she would be asleep because it was now approaching 11:30 and she never stays up that late.
She was so wonderful and gave me time to chat and tried to relieve my tensions a bit. I didn’t keep her on the phone long but was so appreciative of her willingness to even allow me to call that late without getting pissed off. Her talk and encouragement was a bit helpful, but I was still contemplating making the hour-plus drive home in the middle of the night just to get my medication.
Then it dawned on me. My friend Luke was probably going out somewhere for the evening since his wife was out of town, so maybe I could get in touch with him.
I called Luke’s cell phone but there was no answer. I left a brief message explaining my dilemma and asked him to call me back. About ten minutes later the phone rang. I figured it was my wife just checking up on me, but it was Luke.
He was almost back in town from a night out and would be more than happy to have me over for awhile, even though it was midnight and he had to work the next day. I was in such panicked state that it took me two tries to get into the car and drive the three miles to his house.
Every time I’d get into the car, I’d think: I will never make it over there and I couldn’t breathe. The world felt like it was going to collapse around me if I sat in that drivers seat too long, so I’d pull back into the in-law’s driveway. I would get out, walk back into the house, then turn right back around and get into the car.
Finally, I made it to Luke’s house, but he wasn’t there. I tried to get out of the car and wait for him but my head wouldn’t leave me alone. My throat was tightening and it seemed like my airway was going to close any minute if I didn’t do something drastic. I knew this was all in my mind at the time and yet I had no control.
That thought alone made it worse. I jumped back in my car to head back to the in-laws. Just as I got to the first stop at the end of Luke’s road, he pulled into the road and waved me back.
I followed him to his house and we sat outside for awhile before I worked up the nerve to go inside without feeling caged in. A few minutes was all I could handle indoors…the heat, the lack of oxygen, the walls…I had to get out.
Luke was more than willing to follow. I’m not much of a drinker, but a 22oz hard lemonade seemed like it might help slow me down a bit. I slammed that while Luke sipped on one himself. Usually one of those is enough to put me on the couch for the evening! But this was no ordinary evening and no ordinary panic attack.
I have only had an attack this severe a couple of times and I hated it. Before I knew it, I had Luke out waking down the dirt drive at 2:00 am, and he did it with no complaints. We wandered back to the house and went inside for a little more chit-chat.
It was now close to 3:00 am and I could see that Luke was fading fast. The good thing was that it would soon be time to wake my son for his duck hunt, and my mind was starting to shift into a lower gear in preparation for the day of hunting. I needed to keep myself in check for the safety of my son.
The fog in my head slowly began to lift as I pulled into my in-laws driveway at 3:10 am. I was actually able to chill long enough to take a shower. When I came out of the shower, I felt as if the world had been lifted from my shoulders. My wonderful son was sleeping peacefully on a futon mattress on Grandma’s floor, oblivious to the hell I’d been through over the past 4 hours. I was tired but rejuvenated with a clear mind.
I took my son on the hunt. It was a wonderful morning. Warm, calm, and the mosquitoes didn’t even bother me. Ducks were flying and my son was doing pretty good hitting them. I had a wonderful day, and I must say that it was due to the patience and understanding of my wonderful wife and my friend Luke.
Luke is the true definition of a friend. I have known Luke for the better part of thirty years and I would do anything for him. He is more like a brother to me than a friend. I would be hard pressed to find another person on this planet that would be willing to sacrifice a night of sleep just to help a guy through a hard time.
Luke is a true friend, and true friends are hard to come by. He helped me through a night of turmoil that could have led to tragedy if I had not had him to talk to and keep my mind off the senseless ramblings. He was there for me and I am eternally grateful.
I am always here for you if you need me, brother!
by Band Back Together | Jun 27, 2016 | Adult Survivors of Childhood Sexual Abuse, Anxiety Disorders, Cancer and Neoplasia, Child Sexual Abuse, Coping With Depression, Depression, Dysthymia, Generalized Anxiety Disorder Resources, Incest, Major Depressive Disorder, Panic Disorder, Therapy, Violence |
I don’t know where to start. I have had dysthymia for as long as I can remember. My new therapist says it is like a living a half-life. I guess it is. This year, it slipped into something worse. This year has been one of the worst years of my life and I have had some pretty bad years. I had a relationship end, I started a bout of major depression that left me 70 pounds heavier, I had two surgeries, I am in a job that I hate, and on November 21st, I lost a dear friend to cancer. I can’t stop thinking that I wished it had been me. I feel trapped by bad choices. I have nothing left to give anyone anymore. I feel dead inside, but I hide it well. No one really knows how many times I came close to killing myself this year. I grew up with an alcoholic, I grew up in a violent household where I never felt safe. I was molested several times by several men and one female relative.
I feel trapped in this fatsuit. I feel like the best years of my life are behind me. I feel damaged and broken. I am trying to get help. The mental health resources where I live are spread pretty thin. I get to see a therapist once a month, if I am lucky, and I see a doctor for meds for ten mins a month. He switched me some of my medications because of the weight gain. I have tried about ten different anti-depressants and all of them had some kind of unpleasant side effect. I keep hoping I will find one that actually works. I also take an anxiety medication. I take it to control the panic attacks I get when I am out in public. I take it to quiet the loop of negative thoughts I have going through my head everyday.
This is my first post. I come here and I know that I am not alone. I thank the brave people who share their stories here.
I am trying to get better. I am with The Band.
by Band Back Together | Jan 29, 2016 | Coping With Anxiety Disorders, Depression, Generalized Anxiety Disorder Resources, Hypochondria, Mental Health |
Stigma and bias can be a hard thing to overcome, even if one is not aware of the stigma for which they are living with.
I had led a life, up until the point of my unwarranted health anxiety making itself blatantly clear, of uninhibited happiness, health, and carefreeness. I miss those days, but the dark days in-between have made me a better person today. I almost miss the days in which my anxiety and fear was at its worse, because during that dark time I learned about myself, about my resolve, and no matter how dark it got, I had hope at the end of an fearful tunnel. I found that light, and I’m living in the light now, although I still have anxiety daily.
For two long years, between 2010 and 2012, my anxiety and obsessive fear over my health hit its zenith.
For each new symptom I would act illogically; in my mind, an eye twitch meant my muscles were dying; sensory symptoms of tingles and zaps meant I was developing a Neuromuscular disorder; headaches meant I was battling a brain tumor, and so on. The twitches were the worst, because they were ever-present and I truly thought that they were the beginning of some sinister development, of ***.
During those two years, I visited countless doctors, ranging the whole spectrum of specialization, from neurologists to eye doctors to nurse practitioners, to my doctor back home. All of the experts, across the board, would give me the same prognosis: you are fine; your symptoms are benign; you are extremely healthy. Yet, I did not believe them. I felt that they did not understand or that they were missing something. My eyes were twitching, I told them! This can’t be normal! They twitch a lot, sometimes days on end, sometimes for weeks straight. My muscles twitch, my toes tingle, this is not normal, this never used to happen to me, this must be the start of something sinister. I would leave one renowned neurologist to seek my doom from another; I would seek the results of tests, for they could not lie to me; emg’s, cat scans, MRI’s, etc., yet those also declared I was ok. I stopped believing in science, it must be missing something, how can it know what I am going through!
I was prescribed some anti-anxiety medication, and I took it for a while, about 4 or 5 months, but I did not like the effects it had on me; I felt like a zombie. I didn’t tell my doctor, and I stopped taking them, cold turkey. In hindsight, that was a mistake. The anxiety, obviously, worsened. But I thought I could battle this affliction on my own.
Even in my committed relationship, I began to have irrational fears. I became hyper aware. A redspot the size of a pencil tip on my d*ck was concern enough for me to visit a doctor, an expedition that before this affliction, would have been the last thing on my mind. Yet, by the end of 2010 I had no shame. I had shown my you know what to at least five separate doctors, an act of embarrassment for some, an act I went into without reservations. “You see that red spot,” I’d say. “What red spot?” they would ask. “Look, right here. See it? What do you think that is? Am I okay? What could it be?” I’d say this anxiously yet calmly, because I had become so convinced that I was doomed, I began to expect that to eventually be the answer. “It is nothing, it looks extremely healthy,” they would say. Without breaking a blush I’d pull my jeans back on, they’d tell me to talk to someone about anxiety before this starts to snowball out of control, and that would be that.
I did not tell my girlfriend that I was seeking out these diagnosis and she never suspected as much, because a rational person had nothing to suspect. I was lost in a terror inside of my mind. My outlets of exercise, reading, writing, provided slight distractions, but no cure. Eventually, after two years, I started to get better. I figured, I’VE HAD THESE SYMPTOMS FOR TWO YEARS, and I am in FACT HEALTHIER than I have ever been, that doesn’t add up. What am I afraid of? I am okay.
I am okay. I am okay. I am okay. I am okay. I am okay.
I actually started to believe this. I stopped going to doctors for every little fear — after THOUSANDS of dollars of medical bills, which I’m still paying off today. I stopped calling my Dad daily with my fears, telling him I was afraid I was dying and instead would call my Dad as a loving son, asking him how he was doing, a normal loving relationship. I started to care about other people, as I had my entire life before ANXIETY took over. I worried about my younger brothers instead of myself, instead of my irrational fears. I stopped googling every symptom under the sun, and began reading classic novels again. I stopped examining every inch of my body throughout the day, and instead only looked at a mirror at night before bed and in the morning after a shower. The relationship I had during those years of anxieties peak ended, which was very hard at the time but which made perfect sense. If I couldn’t care for myself, if I spent all my energy worrying about myself and hiding it from my partner, what value did I possibly bring to such a relationship. I am lucky that that was the only relationship in which I lost forever.
I am now working to help others who go through anxiety. Nothing is taboo. Anxiety is something that I still live with daily, and every now and then I almost allow myself to fall back into a state of doom, almost…..
How did I get BACK to this place; a place of production, health, and dare I say: happiness? There wasn’t ONE PATH, there never is. People who tell you there is one path towards anything are often wrong, or often haven’t walked enough paths to attempt to be dishing out advise. There were many things I had to do, and although I did it without medication, I wouldn’t say that there is a right or wrong way — medication helps a vast number of people. Lately, I have been studying how my BRAIN functions through a service called BrainPaint, which is a natural and safe tool of neurofeedback that studies your brainwaves. Seeing the image of my brain and how it works is a powerful sight. It makes me want back all of the years I was mistreating my brain, the damage of my illogical, fearful, constant state of doom way of thinking; a state of being that I didn’t know how to escape. It is further reinforcement of the power of the brain, the importance of keeping yourself sane and the importance of the Pursuit of Happiness.
by Band Back Together | Oct 22, 2014 | Anxiety, Anxiety Disorders, Coping With Anxiety Disorders, Generalized Anxiety Disorder Resources, Genetic Disorders, How To Help A Parent With a Special Needs Child, Maple Syrup Urine Disease, Parenting, Special Needs Parenting |
My daughter brought home her first trimester report card yesterday. She got all A’s and B’s, which I know will make her grandparents proud. I’m proud too, of course. But….
I read more than the report card. I read her progress report on her IEP goals. The report that says she’s making “slight progress” in her language arts and math classes. These are classes she takes in the cognitively impaired (special ed) room. The report also reminds me that she reads at a third grade level in some areas, and at a first grade level in others. She’s been at a third grade level since about fifth grade. She is in seventh grade.
This is when the anxiety creeps in again. When I start to worry about her future. Will she ever read at higher than a third grade level? Will she ever be able to do more than basic arithmetic? If she can’t take the standardized tests in high school, will she even get a diploma? College is likely out of the question, but there’s a tech school here in town through the school system, maybe she can go there?
Then there’s the jealousy. Hearing my friends and acquaintances kids’ read four grade levels beyond their age – skip grades – attend Big 10 colleges – earn all A’s.
Then I just try to focus on what’s happening right now. One day at a time. Push those worries back to that dark corner of my mind.
Until the next report card comes.
by Band Back Together | Jun 2, 2014 | Anxiety, Coping With Anxiety Disorders, Coping With Depression, Depression, Fear, Generalized Anxiety Disorder Resources, Major Depressive Disorder, Schizophrenia, Social Anxiety Disorder |
I am lost.
There’s so much that is going on in my head and I use all my energy to appear “okay” around people. I don’t know why I do it – it’s not fair to me.
I have this world I’ve lost control over; it is in a war, and it isn’t nice. They want me to lead it so I’m leading a war in which the kingdom has no leaders. They want me to deal with that too, which I’m working on.
But that isn’t the real world.
In the real world, I’m too scared to open my curtains because I believe there are two invisible, flying men watching me. I’m scared of people. I’m just scared. There are other things that affect the way I do things; it annoys me because I have no control over it.
There’s a goose that runs around – he does make me laugh, but at the wrong times. There are monsters that try and attack me – sometimes they can succeed. There are two men I see that are complete opposites; it’s very rare that they agree on anything. There are other things too.
I have anxiety and depression.
It can take half an hour for me to get from one side of the door to the outside because I check my bag millions of times, my shoes and socks, and all the doors of the house.
Odd numbers are important.
I feel alone so much, even when I am with people. I feel like I’m a robot with people.
I have panic attacks; I don’t feel relaxed very often.
Sometimes I hear children singing nursery rhymes, but it sounds creepy. Sometimes I hear people scream from the war. Sometimes I hear them cry.
I self-harm, sometimes because the voices tell me to; they won’t shut up – sometimes I self-harm because I can’t cope with the emotional pain.
My family hasn’t helped helped me. They’re religious and my dad doesn’t like other people’s opinions, so I can’t share mine except occasionally to my friends. My family doesn’t understand what I’m going through. I always find myself comparing my struggles to my sister’s cancer diagnosis; at least she had something wrong that people could see and get out of her. My dad blames demons for my problems.
Nothing has happened to trigger this, I’m just really unlucky.
I just wanted to get it all out.
