Sew's Spot

"Sit up, join up, stir it up, get online, get in touch, find out who's raising hell and join them." Molly Ivins

Saturday, August 27, 2005

Paranoia? Or Hypochondria? Or could it be....

All this recent focus on my inner and outter health is beginning to sound like my (fortunately) dead ex-mother-in-law. I appologize to the Gentle Reader for the overabundance of angst - but it's MY blog, and so there... phlllhhhhbbbbhhhtttttttttttt

So I'm at the grocery getting lunch. They have these awesome roast beef on focaccia bread sandwiches, and I can get an orange juice instead of sodapop...

And I am at the checkout and see a "women's magazine" (Definition: 30 pages of "Diet Advice" interspersed with 20 pages of "Sex Life Advice" and 40 pages of the most calorie-fat-and-sugar laced recipies known to humankind) but there is an article in there, allegedly, about Altzheimers, and considering Mom....

So I buy the stupid rag along with my lunch (now also supplimented with ranch-flavored Doritos and a small strawberry-shortcake concoction).

Well, in among the Altzheimer article, various sex advice, diet advice, and fattening recipies there is also an article about a woman who had MVPS = Mitral Valve Prolapse Syndrome. And a lot of her symptoms sounded eerily familiar.

So I went out looking for more info. All of the symptoms sound eerily familiar. The racing heartbeat, the thudding, the fear, the ... well.....

So now I'm at a quandry. Did they check for this when I was in the hospital last? Hmmm Dunno. Can I ask them? Hell no. I still owe them cash. Hmmm.

Ok, the article says that some lifestyle changes can have a positive effect. Eat oatmeal. Consume magnesium. Go for a walk.... Hmmm.... I could try this.....

I still want to go see Dr. Epperly - but if THIS is what is wrong, and not that I'm going insane (Shaddup, Vio), this would be farking wonderful. I mean... this can be treated - insanity, I'm not so sure!

*wanders off for a bowl of oatmeal*

Wednesday, August 24, 2005

More Deep Thoughts

Woke up this morning with a pain in the gut. Felt like I was just utterly starving. With the latest bit of insight, however, I tried to analyze. I'd had a nice large dinner, there was no real reason for me to have stabbing hunger pangs.

Yet, I was afraid. I cannot find a few things I need, and it's sending waves of panic thru me. I awoke in fear, and that fear was centered in my gut. Hell, I could rub my chest/abdomen and FEEL the pain... Dammit - can it be that my whole life I've THOUGHT that I was hungry, but really was trying to turn off the pains caused by the fear?

This is a lot bigger than I know how to handle.

I slso kind of came to a conclusion that I'm a fucking hell of a lot stronger than I even thought. I've been living with this for at LEAST 44 years. I've done some reading about anxiety and panic attacks and have read some blog/message forums by people who have it (diagnosed). Some of them have had only a few years, and yet are on the verge of total mental collapse. Many of them are agorophobic (sp?), unable to even leave home to get help.

I had the strength and determination to leave Terry. I had the strength and determination to quit smoking. Where can I go to find the determination and strength to beat through this?

Dammit... I am afraid.

Tuesday, August 23, 2005

Deep Thoughts?

Someone has been hassling me. Giving me the old "You only see the glass 1/2 empty" bullshit. Claiming my life is all about negativity. All my life, from Mom to my boss, everyone jumps on this fucking bandwagon. Why does nobody understand, it's not anger, it's not negativity? It's all about fear.

They say that cornered wild animals have a "fight or flight" response, an innate, instinctual response to fear stimulus. Do you run, or do you fight? What if you can do neither?

So frightened, so long. I remember a few, a very few, times when it wasn't like this. Kindergarten in the basement of the church, before we moved to the scarey big school with all the big kids.... Baking with Grandma....

But mostly what I remember is fear. Fear of not being "good enough". Fear of disappointing the parents. Fear of saying the wrong thing and being laughed at, or being given a ration of shit from an adult. Fear of having a teacher reprimand me, or even worse, bring attention to me.

I remember fear every time I brought home the report card. Fear whenever I did something "naughty" - and often when I had not. Scared of God - of Jesus and his retribution to sinners. Scared of Hell, and the fire/brimstone/wailing/gnashing of teeth of Revelation's end-times. Scared even now when I've renounced Christianity due to it's hypocritical teachings.

I remember being terrified of store clerks. Of having almost panic attacks from having to ask for help finding something. Better to leave without than to be ridiculed and thought stupid for having asked such an obvious question. Even now I am afraid to ask - but force myself to be jocular and over-compensatorily cheerful.

How is this learned? This innate fear? Babies aren't born with it. Babies are supremely confident that all they need do is smile or wail and the world will bring them whatever they desire. Maybe the months in the orphanage started things?

I remember being hideously, painfully shy. So's my dad, but you really have to know him to know it. Can it be that the fear from him produced pheromones that my infant/toddler/child self picked up on and learned this behavior from?

If my boss calls me into his office, I have a panic attack. I just "Know" that I'm about to be chewed out or fired. I'm so afraid I can barely walk, but I grab a pad and pen (to keep my hands from shaking) and go in.

It's getting worse.

Dammit, I need to find someplace - someone - to help. I don't have a clue who/where.

I think I've figured out my heart problems, however. The technicians could not find any pathological reason for my irregular heartbeat, high blood pressure and enlarged heart. I think I know. I think the constant, grinding, insatiable anxiety produces a damn-near constant "fight or flight" response... and it's killing me.

I don't know where to go.

I am afraid.