All is well, and all will be well
February 28, 2012Everything is fine but I am having a hard time convincing my mind of that--my mind, where things that don't exist seem to matter.
My thoughts keep circling around a few choice incidents: like how, last week, we lost Henry in the park for a few terrifying minutes, minutes that seem to stretch on and on in my memory, even though it wasn't that long and of course he was found, completely fine, if scared. But for those few minutes, we screamed into the woods, and there was no answer. That's where my memory is stuck.
And then it fast-forwards to a few days later, when I crossed a busy street against the light (stupid, I know, so stupid) and Henry was behind me, with Scott, only he bolted after me, and there were no cars even near him, but he wasn't looking and he followed and that's my freeze-frame, the innocent following, the trusting, damn it, all my fault.
The culmination occurred only a few minutes later, I think--maybe a half-hour?--when the encroaching stomach-sick that was threatening me all day, struck--on the subway. Where you really don't want something like that to happen. And I don't know whether it was the nausea that gave me a panic attack, or the panic attack that's been almost overtaking me for days kicked the nausea into high gear, but either way, I had to get off the train. I was in a blind panic and I told Scott, I have to get off the train now, and we were nowhere near home, and then I was on the platform, retching (unproductively, painfully) behind a garbage can, and I had no feeling in my arms and I was bathed in cold sweat and between retches I informed Scott that he had to get an ambulance because there was no way. There was no way I could get home. I was going to die there. On the G platform. The G! The very worst train!
At any rate, Scott (fortunately) did not panic, and no one called an ambulance (although a very nice passerby did offer to help, which was so kind--I would keep my distance from a lady retching on the subway platform, personally) and Henry patted me on the back, and the crisis subsided, and we actually got back on the train, where I shivered and sweated and felt generally pathetic.
That was my Sunday. Yesterday I was sick, curled up on the couch all day. Today I am better. I had a burger that was off, or a flu, is all. But I feel like an open wound, and my mind keeps going back, to the park, staring into the woods, or to the street, Henry following me, to the mistakes I keep making--or that moment in the subway--I don't know. I don't even know why I'm telling you this. Only that I feel alone with my thoughts and they won't let up and I am exhausted. I wish I could give myself a break but I am still not fully convinced that I deserve it.
Reader Comments (88)
It is hard being human. Every day we create a series of possible catastrophic events, unbelievable joy, or generally unremarked upon incidents; in our minds they play over and over on a reel to reel that we analyze and fret upon. Oh, it really is hard to be human. Try to remain on the positive side of this very human obsession.
My panic attacks in my late teens always culminated in a barfy session. Gah. Now that I'm somewhat of an "adult" and have left much of that anxiety behind (though it did reappear a few years ago), I experience a different kind of needless worry. My brain will sometimes shift from "la la la, out for a walk" to a full-on action packed "what would you do if you were attacked RIGHT. THIS. MINUTE?" scene. Those are fun. Not.
Hugs to you. You're a fab mom. Breathe. I'll be breathing over here. Probably steaming up the screen cuz' I'm reading the blogs.
I'm so sorry you ... and some of the commentors ... are experiencing this.
Wish you/we didn't suffer from such anxiety. Hugs. (But not too tight.) (And only if welcomed.) (And appropriate.) (And you're not all too busy.) (Not applicable if you've a condition, [dis]order, orientation, temperament, or mood that would disqualify you from this offer.)
Dear Alice, Firstly- I would like to mention that your readers/commenters are such incredibly KIND people; it takes my breath away. What a group of lovely, lovely people- wow.
I've struggled (yes, I have been house bound) with anxiety for my entire life, and after reading about your experience along with the kind words that followed... well, it seems as though all these good wishes/vibes could fucking squash the panic right out of your being. Powerful!
You deserve the most lovliest of breaks, and thank you for being so honest about your fears.
Something's in the air. Maybe it's the time of the year?
I hope you continue to feel better, and remember -- everyone is fine. You guys are all fine.
Parenting -which often BEGINS with a mistake--is nothing but a series of them. We are ALL THERE. It's how we handle. I hurt for your struggle. Hey, wide left turn here, but, have you had your thyroid checked?
First, hugs. I too have such thoughts. I have OCD, more O than C, which culminates in obsessive thought patterns. Google OCD - there are good sites out there with helpful tips. Your brain is just stuck, like a record with a scratch in it, that's all. I swear. There is no deeper meaning to the thoughts.
I completely understand this fixation on your short-comings. We are so hard on ourselves as mothers. I'm sorry you had to go through all the panic on the train.
I sort of suspected that everyone would say that they have similar experiences. I do.
But when it's happening, right then, and happening to you, man it sucks.
Feel better soon.
I can't even read the comments and I hope you aren't either. Some terrifying stories. We're all terrified, apparently. Sheesh. Life!
That "almost-disaster" feeling is SO SO SO hard to shake. I have one that has haunted me for nearly ten years. I was climbing at Joshua Tree and grabbed the wrong rope, which was not attached to an anchor, and was ready to rappel down on it when I realized my mistake. I would have fallen, probably head-first, to my death. To this day, I have that "I'm not even supposed to be here" feeling from time to time and the nausea hits full force.
I think it would be worse to have that kind of moment and memory involving one's child.
Oh my gawd. My heart is in my throat. DO give yourself a break. You DO deserve it. Big hugs to you. I know that internal panic well :(
Your reaction did suggest you were revisiting your PTSD. (And then you said so in one of your replies.) I'm sorry you're feeling low. I hope your psychiatrist is able to help you--right away. Meanwhile, know that we're all pulling for you to get back on an even keel.
Oh, the sweaty retching. That's when I start pounding mints and ginger lemon tea- anything, ANYTHING to break that cycle of "Am I nauseous because I'm anxious or anxious because I'm nauseous?". I've been in that place for the past week. Last Thursday my husband, daughter, lab and 2 fish moved from park Slope to Boston in a snowstorm. In a Prius. At night. I was dry heaving and crying the ENTIRE TIME, begging my husband to pull off so we could stay in a hotel or something- I just didn't think I could make it.
You're not alone. You know this. Sending virtual calm your way.
(The G train would make me barf, too.)