As I sit here drinking out of the coffee mug that I got on clearance at Target for $1.50, I think about why I bought it... could be that I like coffee and don't care what's on the mug I drink it in. Or it could be because it has a picture of the Old Round Barn on it and it makes me think about the road trip Miguel and I took to Oklahoma many years ago. We spent some time driving down Rt 66, stopping to see the tourist attractions and to take random pictures in the middle of the highway. It was a great time, one that I wish we could repeat. Which brings me to todays topic....
This morning while drinking my coffee, I'm feeling kinda bummed. After taking Andrew to school this morning, I passed many houses that had Christmas decorations & lights still on from the night before. It made me want to go find some inexpensive lights to secretively put on our house while the kids were inside or at church so that I could surprise them when they got home. We've never put lights up outside simply because the cost of lights has always just been something we've never budgeted for. Our money has to go to certain things around the holidays and lights for the house has never been one of those things.
I immediately think about getting the girls dressed and ready to go run to Big Lots, for I heard their lights were really cheap. But then I remember that the kids don't have gifts yet and every single last penny has to go toward them so they will have something to open on Christmas morning. This thought brings me down a bit as I start wishing I had money like I used to. Seems when I worked full-time, we were able to just go out and buy things without giving it a second thought.
Trips on the weekend, gifts bought and sent to friends near and far... holiday cards & presents for friends & family able to be bought without question. Parties that we could host, plays and festivals we could attend... It was never something we worried about before. It was easy to hand over the debit card and not worry about how we were going to pay for the doctor appointment next week.
It's funny how we don't realize what we have until it's gone. I've been home for 3 years now and have learned how to live without that $37000 per year. I don't get Starbucks every day. I don't stop and grab a large fry or a breakfast sandwich at McDonald's like I used to. Heck, trips to McD's have become a really special treat to the kids since we never go anymore :) I eat whatever I can find in the house (which thank the Lord, I can always find something), I make my own sweet tea. I haven't bought a new pair of jeans, pants, shoes, or nice shirt really, in these last 3 years. If I go "shopping", it's for a reason, and I always go to the clearance section first and only pay full price when and if I absolutely have to. Resale shops have always been my friend, but now even more so. Love me a used pair of jeans for Macy for $4.50 :)
While I ache to go out and shop for myself some clothes or earrings or just anything, and while I really wish I could run out and get some lights for the house or Christmas gifts for all of our family members (this year it's limited to our kids only most likely), I still have to thank God.... He is still there. He has allowed me to still live joyfully with what I have (and what I think I don't have).
When deciding to stay at home 3 years ago, we weren't sure how we'd make it on one income alone. But it worked out. Just when the bank account is looking bare and we're trying to figure out how to make it those last few days before payday, God blesses us again and again and again. I've learned to stock up on the dented cans of food in the clearance section at Kroger when I am able to. And while I don't coupon, I am able to find cereal and other pantry items to keep on hand for pretty cheap... So my pantry is full, for this I am grateful. My fridge is bare most of the time, but that doesn't mean we don't eat. We always have food, God is the reason for that. Because I don't work, I don't need those new clothes. I can get by wearing the old clothes I've had for years and years. God has given us people in our lives to watch our kids for free the time or two we've needed them. He has provided us with the blessing of hand-me-down clothes from people who are looking to get rid of things. When our cars have broken down, we've found out ways (or people have generously helped us in different ways) to fix them, or to just get by with me walking to Andrews school every day for a month to pick him up without a car. We've even given up money-making photo sessions in order to provide budget-friendly sessions to people in need so that they can have those valuable photos to last a lifetime that they wouldn't before be able to afford.
I miss giving. I used to send care packages to my friends, and I miss that. Even the $5 in postage is just too much sometimes, so I have to refrain and just send an email instead. I miss taking those weekend trips to just play and enjoy my family. But instead, we stay in town and try to find free things to do with the kids. My kids may not be enrolled in sports, gymnastics, or dance classes, but they are still learning and experiencing things that they enjoy. And one day when we can swing it, they will get that chance again to do what they love.
As I sit back on the couch watching my two girls sleep, I realize how blessed I am to get to say that... to get to sit at home and watch my kids sleep in, instead of getting up early to send them off to daycare. I may look across the room and see the Christmas tree that has half the number of working lights as it should have and wish I could buy us a new tree one of these years, but I know God could care less about my tree and I start to feel the same way. There's so much more important things than a tree with broken lights.
God is good, people. He has provided joy even when I feel like crying. He has provided food when we were hungry. He has provided friends when we were lonely. And He has allowed me to know that this won't always be this way.... and that I need to enjoy this time before it's gone, as this is my only chance to stay at home with my kids and there will be plenty of time later in life to decorate the house, buy people all of the gifts they want, to go on all of the road trips we want to take. All in His time, not mine.
I am blessed. Broke, but blessed. And that's all that matters. :)
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Sunday, November 11, 2012
To Live With Anxiety...and to beat it
It seems that these days, everyone knows someone who deals with anxiety. Be it social anxiety, a type of OCD, generalized anxiety, or whatever, it is there. Someone you know has a problem with anxiety, even if you don't know it. So many people want to keep that part of their life a secret, they don't want people to think they have a "problem" or are "weird". I've heard it a lot - but when they tell just one person, they realize they're not actually alone. More people deal with anxiety than you'd think. It's everywhere.
I was married for the first time back in 2000. In the time of my marriage and then the back and forth of the breakup, getting back together, breaking up and finally divorcing, I never once dealt with anxiety. I lived on my own in a city where I knew no one and I made it. I didn't move the two hours back home where my friends and family were, I held on and dealt with what God laid in front of me. And I have to repeat -- I lived on my own. By myself. I got a dog and moved into a one bedroom apartment on.my.own. And even with the creepy neighbor and the late night dog walking I had to do, I didn't get scared, never got anxious.
Today I would give anything to live that "freely" again. I know nothing of that peaceful feeling, that feeling of not being scared. Anxiety was not even a word I thought about back then. But now, oh now it's there. It's in my mind, in my thoughts, all around me...my friends deal with it, people I hardly know tell me they deal with it, mentors I would have never thought deal with it actually deal with it...And I also deal with it.
After Andrew was born 8.5 years ago, I was feeling great, emotionally, physically, every part of my being felt fine! Then when he was 1.5 years old, my husband had a business trip to Las Vegas planned and I wanted to go along for a little get-away without the baby. My family was to keep Andrew while we were gone for 4-5 days (I guess, can't really remember now). This is when the anxiety started creeping in....
Someone had mentioned making a "just in case" envelope for someone to find if and when something ever happened to me. This envelope would hold important information about bills, passwords, things to take care of, and where I would want my possessions and children to go if something were to happen to me. This thought scared me, but believe it or not, I created this very envelope (still tucked away, never updated since -- thinking I should do that???). And when creating this packet full of information, I started thinking very crazy thoughts. Wondered if I should even go on this trip. What if the plane crashed and both Miguel and I were on it and Andrew would be left with neither of us. So maybe I wouldn't go. But then what if the plane crashed and we were left without Miguel? What if we took Andrew with us? Oh but then all of us would be gone if the plane crashed. So I decided I would go. Andrew would be safe and would have a full life with family and loved ones if something happened to us, and he deserved that (yes, I actually thought these things). But then, I had to get online to choose a seat on the airplane that I would sit in for the flights (Miguel had a seat already booked by his company, so we couldn't sit together, but I could see the available seats left and choose where I wanted to sit). This posed a whole other problem. Which seat would have the best chance of being saved if the plane were to crash. This led to researching online to see which seats of the planes actually were okay during plane crashes that had happened in the past. If I sit by the wings would I have a better chance of surviving a plane crash than if I sat at the back of the plane? Sure didn't want to pick a seat by the window, heck no! The door could fly open and I'd be sucked out! See?! THE ANXIETY OVERTOOK ME.
Not sure when it was that I told my doctor about these issues, whether it was before or after the trip, but regardless, she immediately put me on an anti-anxiety medication. Somehow I made it on the flight and we had fun during the first 2 or so days of our trip... Then my family called to tell me that my dad had had a heart attack while playing in a softball game and was being rushed to the hospital. Las Vegas trip ended early as we flew home and drove to see my dad who was now doing okay. This, in my mind, would be the last time I left home. (lol)
After several months on different medications for my anxiety, I started leveling out. Things seemed so much better, I didn't even realize how peaceful I felt again. It's funny but so true that when you simply take a pill, it takes away all of that tension, discomfort, fear, etc... and you are able to feel normal again. Now, I was one who NEVER wanted to take medication to solve any of my problems. I am a Christian, I wanted to always be able to rely on God to heal me from those things that crept up in my life. But giving in and using that prescription from my doctor was probably the best thing I could have ever done at that time. I'm not sure what I would have ended up like had I not done that.
Once I became pregnant with Macy, I no longer took any medication for my anxiety. Things were fine and I knew how to handle any anxious thoughts that sometimes wiggled their way into my mind. I learned how I could talk my way out of what could have become an anxiety attack years earlier. I KNEW what was right, what was true, and so I was able to walk away from the anxiety and "talk myself down". No medication needed.
Having Macy, I never dealt with the anxiety.... well, aside from the small bouts where I'd simply talk myself out of it and be okay. It's kind of humorous to myself to think that I am talking to myself so much just to not be anxious. I pray, I tell Satan to get behind me, it's become completely necessary so that I am not overtaken by anxiety again.
Not sure what started it all up again, but slowly, it all started happening again. I would imagine our house catching on fire and me not being able to get my kids out of the house in time. My room was too far from one of them and I would always worry that one would not be saved if something happened while we were sleeping. I would literally drive away from my house and pray for God to keep my house safe while I was gone. I just knew that something was going to happen to my house or to my kids, and I couldn't sleep. (oh, did I mention that back when I was diagnosed with anxiety when Andrew was little, they also diagnosed me as an insomniac!) Welcome back, anxiety and insomnia! We ended up moving our bedroom out of the master bedroom into one of the smaller rooms so that we could be next to both kids rooms. But then Andrew moved into the master bedroom when Riley lived here, and that gave me comfort, knowing Riley was in there with him to save him if something happened. Riley moved out, Macy ended up moving into the master bedroom with Andrew. And now Miguel and I were across the house, back in the position I didn't want to be in -- too far away from the kids. So I just had a small living room and dining room in between us -- you wouldn't think that would pose a problem if there was a fire or something... but I had it in my mind that there would be something, anything, the most ridiculous scenario possible, to happen so that I wouldn't be able to get to my kids. So I slept in the living room. Or in the kids room. Or they'd sleep with me. This went on throughout my last pregnancy with Olivia. I rarely slept in my own room with my own husband. I would try to go in there to sleep, talk myself down from the would-be panic attack, and get all prepared to sleep soundly in there... but then I'd start thinking all over again and have to go back to the couch. This was not good.
Having the baby, I was relieved that I could get back on my anxiety medication. I mean I was in a race to the doctor so she'd hurry up and get me "fixed" again. :) For the first time in my life, I knew I had never experienced one, but I also knew that I was THISCLOSE to having an anxiety attack. This was the time when the west nile virus was going around really bad and everyone was advised to not spend too much time outside, to protect our children, to be aware of mosquitos and their bites. :) So of course, I would panic about losing my kids or myself to that darn virus. Not only that, but I had friends fighting cancer, or read about kids fighting cancer or some illness, or people just randomly passing away, and so I would freak out inside my little mind, thinking something horribly awful was going to happen to me or my family. And literally, I would feel like I was dying. One day after having Olivia, I was simply rocking her and I started thinking about how sick I had been feeling (post-surgery -- nothing felt good, but that was normal). I started thinking that maybe I was getting west nile, all because I had felt feverish and I felt that I was getting a cold. Slowly, with these thoughts came more and more thoughts -- in an instant almost, I went from happily rocking a baby, to having to pass her to my husband so that I could walk into the bedroom to almost throw up, since I honestly had myself worked up so much that I felt that I was literally about to pass out and die. I was so close to having him call 911. I didn't know if I was having a heart attack or what was happening. I sat down and put my head between my knees and just prayed. Slowly I started feeling better and I again talked myself out of the anxious thoughts and feelings I was having. What I realize now, is that I was experiencing what some would call an anxiety (or panic) attack.
The doctor put me back on a low dose of an anxiety medication that I'd tolerated years before. I felt so good knowing that soon, I'd be able to sleep in my own bed consistently and wake up knowing that my kids were still alive, healthy, and okay.
Sadly, this hasn't happened just yet as I'd hoped. The dose was too low as I've come to find out (I was on a stronger dose last time I took this med), and so I'm waiting on them to increase the dosage or try a different medication. In the meantime, I still sleep by my kids or on the couch. For some reason I know my husband will be okay. I know that I will be okay too. But I don't have the confidence that my kids will be okay if I leave them throughout the night. AND I KNOW THIS IS NOT HEALTHY!! Not for me, not for my kids, not for my marriage!!!
Do you know how that feels? To not be able to sleep next to your husband in your own bed?? In the months that I've dealt with this this last time, whenever Miguel would fall asleep on the couch, I'd crawl in the bed alone, being able to fall asleep quickly and completely at peace, because I know that HE is out there staying close to the kids and able to get to them if I can't while I'm asleep. Whenever I've had guests to stay the night at my house, I've slept SO well in my own bed, just because I'v had someone else there in case anything happens.
What frustrates me the most? KNOWING that this is irrational of me to think and to feel this way. I KNOW none of this makes sense. I can see how there really is not any way that I could NOT get to my kids if a fire started in this house (most likely). I know Andrew is smart enough to get him and Macy out of here if anything did ever happen. I can tell my friends, family, strangers, anyone that they are thinking crazy thoughts when they admit to thinking things like this. Yet I still feel them. I still feel the fear and the uneasy feelings every.single.night. I pull the baby's little portable bed into the bedroom and get myself all hyped up to sleep in my own bed with my husband, so excited to finally get a good nights' sleep.... and then it starts up again. I rebuke Satan, I scream and yell at him in my mind, so get the heck away from me and my thoughts, but it doesn't work. I end up pulling the baby and my pillow back out to the couch for the night. It's FRUSTRATING to say the least!!
So tomorrow, I call my doctor. We figure out what to do next... basically they'll increase my dosage to what I took before, or they'll change my medication. Either way, I'm not ashamed to get back on a pill. I've realized that I cannot handle it on my own anymore. YES, I do have God, I know that He is here to hold me and to take away these fears. I understand that peace can lie in Him alone. But I'm also not one to ignore help from a doctor. God wants me and my mind healthy and free from harm and bad things. I need to be a healthy mom for my kids, a healthy wife for my husband. And while I can have a personal relationship with Him and trust in Him for everything in my life, I also know that He is okay with me taking a pill in order to help me get back to "normal". May it be a month, two, or even a year that I will need to be on this medication, so be it. I don't care anymore. And I hope that anyone reading this understands that it's okay to be anxious. As long as you take care of yourself. There is nothing wrong with being put on medication. It will not change who you are. It won't make you feel crazy, sad, or weird. It actually helps you. Sometimes there is a chemical imbalance that you need help with. Sometimes there are things that have happened in your life that you need help dealing with. Talk to someone, get someone to hear your stories, your fears, your "crazy thoughts". You'll probably find out that you're not crazy after all! (that, or everyone else is crazy too! lol) Or accept that prescription the doctor offers you to try for a few months. Take it willingly and let it help you. And still hold on tight to God.
Because trust me... going to church, watching a guy walk in who you don't recognize, and as he takes a seat behind you, all you can think is how any second now he's going to pull a gun and start shooting... that's not healthy. There is way too much on the news these days that can make anyone anxious over. I do not wish anxiety on my kids and I do not let them know how anxious I get at times, for I do not want them to learn my behavior. So I will get the help I need so I can have a healthy mind, be a healthy mother, and to be able to sleep in the same room with my husband who misses me. I will do this for them and for myself. We all deserve it.
I may never live on my own again (thank you Lord!!), but I will again make it on my own -- anxiety will not rule my life any longer. To that I say no way Jose! :)
Maybe if you're feeling this way too, you should open up and finally choose to discuss it with someone. You are not alone. And I'm here if you need an ear.
You.are.not.alone.
I was married for the first time back in 2000. In the time of my marriage and then the back and forth of the breakup, getting back together, breaking up and finally divorcing, I never once dealt with anxiety. I lived on my own in a city where I knew no one and I made it. I didn't move the two hours back home where my friends and family were, I held on and dealt with what God laid in front of me. And I have to repeat -- I lived on my own. By myself. I got a dog and moved into a one bedroom apartment on.my.own. And even with the creepy neighbor and the late night dog walking I had to do, I didn't get scared, never got anxious.
Today I would give anything to live that "freely" again. I know nothing of that peaceful feeling, that feeling of not being scared. Anxiety was not even a word I thought about back then. But now, oh now it's there. It's in my mind, in my thoughts, all around me...my friends deal with it, people I hardly know tell me they deal with it, mentors I would have never thought deal with it actually deal with it...And I also deal with it.
After Andrew was born 8.5 years ago, I was feeling great, emotionally, physically, every part of my being felt fine! Then when he was 1.5 years old, my husband had a business trip to Las Vegas planned and I wanted to go along for a little get-away without the baby. My family was to keep Andrew while we were gone for 4-5 days (I guess, can't really remember now). This is when the anxiety started creeping in....
Someone had mentioned making a "just in case" envelope for someone to find if and when something ever happened to me. This envelope would hold important information about bills, passwords, things to take care of, and where I would want my possessions and children to go if something were to happen to me. This thought scared me, but believe it or not, I created this very envelope (still tucked away, never updated since -- thinking I should do that???). And when creating this packet full of information, I started thinking very crazy thoughts. Wondered if I should even go on this trip. What if the plane crashed and both Miguel and I were on it and Andrew would be left with neither of us. So maybe I wouldn't go. But then what if the plane crashed and we were left without Miguel? What if we took Andrew with us? Oh but then all of us would be gone if the plane crashed. So I decided I would go. Andrew would be safe and would have a full life with family and loved ones if something happened to us, and he deserved that (yes, I actually thought these things). But then, I had to get online to choose a seat on the airplane that I would sit in for the flights (Miguel had a seat already booked by his company, so we couldn't sit together, but I could see the available seats left and choose where I wanted to sit). This posed a whole other problem. Which seat would have the best chance of being saved if the plane were to crash. This led to researching online to see which seats of the planes actually were okay during plane crashes that had happened in the past. If I sit by the wings would I have a better chance of surviving a plane crash than if I sat at the back of the plane? Sure didn't want to pick a seat by the window, heck no! The door could fly open and I'd be sucked out! See?! THE ANXIETY OVERTOOK ME.
Not sure when it was that I told my doctor about these issues, whether it was before or after the trip, but regardless, she immediately put me on an anti-anxiety medication. Somehow I made it on the flight and we had fun during the first 2 or so days of our trip... Then my family called to tell me that my dad had had a heart attack while playing in a softball game and was being rushed to the hospital. Las Vegas trip ended early as we flew home and drove to see my dad who was now doing okay. This, in my mind, would be the last time I left home. (lol)
After several months on different medications for my anxiety, I started leveling out. Things seemed so much better, I didn't even realize how peaceful I felt again. It's funny but so true that when you simply take a pill, it takes away all of that tension, discomfort, fear, etc... and you are able to feel normal again. Now, I was one who NEVER wanted to take medication to solve any of my problems. I am a Christian, I wanted to always be able to rely on God to heal me from those things that crept up in my life. But giving in and using that prescription from my doctor was probably the best thing I could have ever done at that time. I'm not sure what I would have ended up like had I not done that.
Once I became pregnant with Macy, I no longer took any medication for my anxiety. Things were fine and I knew how to handle any anxious thoughts that sometimes wiggled their way into my mind. I learned how I could talk my way out of what could have become an anxiety attack years earlier. I KNEW what was right, what was true, and so I was able to walk away from the anxiety and "talk myself down". No medication needed.
Having Macy, I never dealt with the anxiety.... well, aside from the small bouts where I'd simply talk myself out of it and be okay. It's kind of humorous to myself to think that I am talking to myself so much just to not be anxious. I pray, I tell Satan to get behind me, it's become completely necessary so that I am not overtaken by anxiety again.
Not sure what started it all up again, but slowly, it all started happening again. I would imagine our house catching on fire and me not being able to get my kids out of the house in time. My room was too far from one of them and I would always worry that one would not be saved if something happened while we were sleeping. I would literally drive away from my house and pray for God to keep my house safe while I was gone. I just knew that something was going to happen to my house or to my kids, and I couldn't sleep. (oh, did I mention that back when I was diagnosed with anxiety when Andrew was little, they also diagnosed me as an insomniac!) Welcome back, anxiety and insomnia! We ended up moving our bedroom out of the master bedroom into one of the smaller rooms so that we could be next to both kids rooms. But then Andrew moved into the master bedroom when Riley lived here, and that gave me comfort, knowing Riley was in there with him to save him if something happened. Riley moved out, Macy ended up moving into the master bedroom with Andrew. And now Miguel and I were across the house, back in the position I didn't want to be in -- too far away from the kids. So I just had a small living room and dining room in between us -- you wouldn't think that would pose a problem if there was a fire or something... but I had it in my mind that there would be something, anything, the most ridiculous scenario possible, to happen so that I wouldn't be able to get to my kids. So I slept in the living room. Or in the kids room. Or they'd sleep with me. This went on throughout my last pregnancy with Olivia. I rarely slept in my own room with my own husband. I would try to go in there to sleep, talk myself down from the would-be panic attack, and get all prepared to sleep soundly in there... but then I'd start thinking all over again and have to go back to the couch. This was not good.
Having the baby, I was relieved that I could get back on my anxiety medication. I mean I was in a race to the doctor so she'd hurry up and get me "fixed" again. :) For the first time in my life, I knew I had never experienced one, but I also knew that I was THISCLOSE to having an anxiety attack. This was the time when the west nile virus was going around really bad and everyone was advised to not spend too much time outside, to protect our children, to be aware of mosquitos and their bites. :) So of course, I would panic about losing my kids or myself to that darn virus. Not only that, but I had friends fighting cancer, or read about kids fighting cancer or some illness, or people just randomly passing away, and so I would freak out inside my little mind, thinking something horribly awful was going to happen to me or my family. And literally, I would feel like I was dying. One day after having Olivia, I was simply rocking her and I started thinking about how sick I had been feeling (post-surgery -- nothing felt good, but that was normal). I started thinking that maybe I was getting west nile, all because I had felt feverish and I felt that I was getting a cold. Slowly, with these thoughts came more and more thoughts -- in an instant almost, I went from happily rocking a baby, to having to pass her to my husband so that I could walk into the bedroom to almost throw up, since I honestly had myself worked up so much that I felt that I was literally about to pass out and die. I was so close to having him call 911. I didn't know if I was having a heart attack or what was happening. I sat down and put my head between my knees and just prayed. Slowly I started feeling better and I again talked myself out of the anxious thoughts and feelings I was having. What I realize now, is that I was experiencing what some would call an anxiety (or panic) attack.
The doctor put me back on a low dose of an anxiety medication that I'd tolerated years before. I felt so good knowing that soon, I'd be able to sleep in my own bed consistently and wake up knowing that my kids were still alive, healthy, and okay.
Sadly, this hasn't happened just yet as I'd hoped. The dose was too low as I've come to find out (I was on a stronger dose last time I took this med), and so I'm waiting on them to increase the dosage or try a different medication. In the meantime, I still sleep by my kids or on the couch. For some reason I know my husband will be okay. I know that I will be okay too. But I don't have the confidence that my kids will be okay if I leave them throughout the night. AND I KNOW THIS IS NOT HEALTHY!! Not for me, not for my kids, not for my marriage!!!
Do you know how that feels? To not be able to sleep next to your husband in your own bed?? In the months that I've dealt with this this last time, whenever Miguel would fall asleep on the couch, I'd crawl in the bed alone, being able to fall asleep quickly and completely at peace, because I know that HE is out there staying close to the kids and able to get to them if I can't while I'm asleep. Whenever I've had guests to stay the night at my house, I've slept SO well in my own bed, just because I'v had someone else there in case anything happens.
What frustrates me the most? KNOWING that this is irrational of me to think and to feel this way. I KNOW none of this makes sense. I can see how there really is not any way that I could NOT get to my kids if a fire started in this house (most likely). I know Andrew is smart enough to get him and Macy out of here if anything did ever happen. I can tell my friends, family, strangers, anyone that they are thinking crazy thoughts when they admit to thinking things like this. Yet I still feel them. I still feel the fear and the uneasy feelings every.single.night. I pull the baby's little portable bed into the bedroom and get myself all hyped up to sleep in my own bed with my husband, so excited to finally get a good nights' sleep.... and then it starts up again. I rebuke Satan, I scream and yell at him in my mind, so get the heck away from me and my thoughts, but it doesn't work. I end up pulling the baby and my pillow back out to the couch for the night. It's FRUSTRATING to say the least!!
So tomorrow, I call my doctor. We figure out what to do next... basically they'll increase my dosage to what I took before, or they'll change my medication. Either way, I'm not ashamed to get back on a pill. I've realized that I cannot handle it on my own anymore. YES, I do have God, I know that He is here to hold me and to take away these fears. I understand that peace can lie in Him alone. But I'm also not one to ignore help from a doctor. God wants me and my mind healthy and free from harm and bad things. I need to be a healthy mom for my kids, a healthy wife for my husband. And while I can have a personal relationship with Him and trust in Him for everything in my life, I also know that He is okay with me taking a pill in order to help me get back to "normal". May it be a month, two, or even a year that I will need to be on this medication, so be it. I don't care anymore. And I hope that anyone reading this understands that it's okay to be anxious. As long as you take care of yourself. There is nothing wrong with being put on medication. It will not change who you are. It won't make you feel crazy, sad, or weird. It actually helps you. Sometimes there is a chemical imbalance that you need help with. Sometimes there are things that have happened in your life that you need help dealing with. Talk to someone, get someone to hear your stories, your fears, your "crazy thoughts". You'll probably find out that you're not crazy after all! (that, or everyone else is crazy too! lol) Or accept that prescription the doctor offers you to try for a few months. Take it willingly and let it help you. And still hold on tight to God.
Because trust me... going to church, watching a guy walk in who you don't recognize, and as he takes a seat behind you, all you can think is how any second now he's going to pull a gun and start shooting... that's not healthy. There is way too much on the news these days that can make anyone anxious over. I do not wish anxiety on my kids and I do not let them know how anxious I get at times, for I do not want them to learn my behavior. So I will get the help I need so I can have a healthy mind, be a healthy mother, and to be able to sleep in the same room with my husband who misses me. I will do this for them and for myself. We all deserve it.
I may never live on my own again (thank you Lord!!), but I will again make it on my own -- anxiety will not rule my life any longer. To that I say no way Jose! :)
Maybe if you're feeling this way too, you should open up and finally choose to discuss it with someone. You are not alone. And I'm here if you need an ear.
You.are.not.alone.
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