Life comes with its very own agenda, one that isn’t preconceived.
It doesn’t have a set path that
it dishes out to everyone, based on their own circumstances, it doesn’t choose
who will be fortunate in health and well-being, it doesn’t choose whether you
are able to have a family, work, or be happy.
Your life is defined mainly by
the choices you make, and that includes some health
issues. Mostly though, and this is the case for my family our bad health is in
our genes.
But as we all know life has a way
of throwing multiple things at you with such force and ferocity that you
have no choice but to juggle these all at the same time whilst still trying to
live this life and jump over its forever climbing hurdles.
That is how anxiety took
a hold of me.
And
that’s how I felt when I realized that I was suffering with anxiety.
Me and my partner have three
beautiful children, and two of those are diagnosed with Autism and ADHD, my
girl along with those diagnoses suffers with anxiety, hyper mobility, sleep
apneas, Sensory Processing Disorder, and a smattering
of other co–existing conditions.
Life for us was very challenging,
very up and down and a few years ago due to everything unfolding – and not
really knowing how to handle or deal with these conditions – very unhappy.
In 2014, my partner was
diagnosed with a neurological condition called X – Linked Adrenoleukodystrophy.He may loose the use of
his legs, and he may also need lifelong care.
Life just kept throwing these
curve balls, and I just kept catching them and throwing them up in the air
along with the rest ready to catch them again on their return.
They were just spinning and
spinning, and nothing seemed to stop, there was never a break.
I found my life spiraling out of
my control.
We had a calendar full of
appointments, many that we had to travel quite far too. Many that needed day
beds, and anesthetics, lumbar punctures, and operations.
I had hospital reports coming out
of my ears, and mostly I found out more in a hospital report than I did in the
appointment, which then raised more questions, and requests for more
appointments. I was waiting patiently for the
postman every day.
I needed
those letters.
I needed to read those reports so
desperately.
And then my Dad suddenly passed
away. My beautiful, wonderful, funny, dad, whom gave his everything when we
were children to create happy, perfect, memories that I treasure dearly.
I was grieving and I realized I
wasn’t just waiting patiently for that postman anymore, I was detouring on my
journeys, after lunch time, knowing the postman’s routine, to collect my
letters. I would check the doormat first
thing as soon as I walked in the door. I would rip those letters open
and be so disappointed if it wasn’t something that I was hoping for.
‘Its okay though I’m sure it will be here tomorrow’
I told myself, and so I would wait
again, constantly thinking about these letters, spotting the postman and
watching at the window, waiting for him to walk down my path I could actually
feel the excitement of what he would bring me.The feeling of despair I felt
when he walked on by with a nod of his head was like torture, a deep, painful
roar felt throughout my body. I felt like my only purpose in life was to
receive these goddamn letters.
I don’t even know when I realized
it had become a problem; there were other things, too.
I had no patience anymore,
everything was an annoyance to me, and little things like asking me simple
questions would be met with intolerance, snappy remarks and sometimes just
plain ignorance.
I was
also convinced that I had some terrible disease and I was going to die.
I had to sort my family out, I
had to tell other family members more about our likes and dislikes, and how our
routines went. And if I did die I needed to make sure that my family knew I
needed my daughter in a special school.
It was by far the best place for
her. I told my partners family that if I did die, someone to have to help him
out with the kids because he wouldn’t be able to do this himself he was
physically incapable.
I imagined all sorts of things
and in my head I prepared for the worst. It was all consuming, I had
nightmares, I was so panicked. I was a nightmare to be around. I
couldn’t concentrate on anything but these letters.
My hearing sense was heightened
too, certain sounds made my skin crawl and I would sometimes scream because it
was so physically painful. I knew that for the sake of my
family, I needed to get help; I had to talk it through with my GP at least and
ask her opinion.
Yes I had anxiety and I was given
a tiny dose of anxiety tablets. I have also been referred to Talking Therapies,
which is on my To-Do list and really needs to be prioritized.
The tablets help, and I’m glad
that I finally went and told them my issues because if I am not 100% then my
family simply cannot function.
I don’t believe I’m dying
anymore, and I do not detour through my day just for the postman.
It hasn’t completely relieved me
of the anxiety, I’m still thinking about the postman all the time, but it has
gotten easier. And I’m thankful for that.
P.S I hope my postman doesn't read this....
This post was originally written for and published by Firefly - The Moment Anxiety Took A Hold Of Me