My anxieties have anxiety and I blame myself for them… crazy, huh?!?! (another rambling post)

Sleep has not been coming easily recently - like say in the past year and a half.  This is one of the lovely symptoms of anxiety and depression.  Ever since I met Dan, he has accused my mind of racing.  Until now it only drove him crazy… now we are in total agreement.  I’ve taken prescription drugs to help me sleep (I don’t want to stay on them for a long time), melatonin, warm baths, and even taken to drinking tart cherry juice to try and extend my sleep; Yet almost every night I wake up around 3:15 am.  But those days are hopefully numbered.  After a visit today, to both Dr. S and Dr. K (separately of course), I would like to think I am getting back on track.  The past two weeks I think I had jumped the track and was heading in the wrong direction.  My thoughts which I had been getting a little better at wrestling, began to fight back and it was like a thumb war with my brother from my childhood - I kept getting clobbered and eventually stopped even trying and just laid my thumb down on the count of three.  I wanted to give up the hard work.  I felt lazy, whiny, and pathetic.  I didn’t understand why I was not where I was just a few weeks ago.  

But I knew enough to make appointments to see the professionals… and boy am I glad I did.  I also tried to reach out to a few of my “people,” but feel ridiculous continuing to need such support.  As much as my friends and some of my family members tell me to call, day or night, it still takes tremendous effort and I also don’t want to worry anyone.  While waiting and obsessing, I did what any sane, rational person would do… I began reading It’s Kind of a Funny Story, by Ned Vizzini.  If you have never heard of it, it’s an incredibly well written story about a 15-year-old boy who spends several days in a psychiatric hospital in Manhattan.  Although in comparison to my experience his sounded like a much cleaner, friendlier place - with an art room, musical volunteers coming in, daily visitors (i could go further, but that is not the point) - his descriptions of what is going through this teen’s mind are extremely accurate and both scary and reaffirming.  Why am I reading this you might ask?  Because my 10-year-old heard about it somewhere and wants to read it.  And because I want to know what she’s going to be reading about a person suffering from depression.  So we can talk. Because it’s important to me to do so.

Dr. S was out of town and today was the first day I could see her.  I anxiously awaited the appointment for a week (once I got the idea in my head that I needed to change the meds it became an obsessive thought).  And when today finally arrived I was in tears within minutes of walking into her office.  My emotions and the stress I put myself under was unbearable.  Luckily she was able to easily get to the source of a lot of my stress - stuffing - which is exactly what it sounds like.  I don’t like to bother people, or I am scared of what people will think about what I feel/say/do/etc.  that I just keep a lot of it inside me.  And that is not so good.  Combine that with lack of sleep and brain chemistry and you really have a perfect storm.  Then put on a mask for most of the day and pretend that everything is fine and you are all better.  Dr. S was the first today to assure me that with the right meds (which obviously need some tweaking) and with the right support and coping skills, I will be back on my way hopefully soon.  I left her office feeling like a piece of the puzzle (ok - maybe a few more than one) was back in place, but still anxious for my appointment with Dr. S.

After a quick shopping trip with a friend, a stop at the pharmacy to fill a new prescription, and a lunch with another friend (all things good for my mental health - two of which I could try to make myself feel guilty about) I made it to Dr. K.

Although I held it together in the 4 hours in between, as soon as I flopped onto her couch - the tears started to flow - again.  I looked down, because at some point the embarrassment and shame become so real.  Dr. K reminded me that crying is not bad - it is a great outlet that actually helps me feel better and there is no better place to let it out than in her office.  We did a 30 second role play where she pretended to be me and I was supposed to be her (probably not even 30 seconds, because I got her point almost immediately); I am so much harder on myself than I would be on any other human being going through the same process.  Anyone else I would talk to encouragingly rather than berating them.  I need to treat myself with something other than impatience and contempt.  It’s not going to be easy, but once my meds are correct it should at least be possible.  Until then I am working to tell myself to “stop it” whenever the thoughts enter my mind…  have I mentioned how hard this is?!?!  I will probably also be anxious about my progress, but that’s how I started this post - so what’s new?  

(sorry for any Dr. K and Dr. S confusion - I myself was a little confused while writing this)