Myspace Blogs Revisited - Anxiety disorder

This was a blog I posted on Myspace a while back... I wanted to repeat it here

==================================

For anyone who has known me for the last, hmmm… well really my whole life, knows that I suffer from that no so rare "General Anxiety Disorder" It's not something that I made up in order to get out of certain responsibilities or to become anti social… It is a legitimate disorder that actually runs through my mother's side of the family. And it, in a word, SUCKS.

I am writing about my experiences with anxiety with total open honesty because, well, people who don't have anxiety have a lot of difficulty grasping exactly what I go through, and understanding why I just can't shake it off. (I wish it were that simple.) Some of the details in this are definitely TMI… but it's all relevant to the disorder I feel, and the things I go through.

When I was little, and I mean like elementary school, I used to always get sick around the time of my birthday. It's in the beginning to middle of February, just about the time when all of those nasty illnesses go around that make you vomit and just feel like crap. Well… several of my friends' birthdays would always happen around that Jan/Feb time frame and well… at more than one birthday party I got sick, threw up, and was sent home. At that early age, I started equating birthday parties with throwing up, and suffice it to say, I didn't like throwing up, and I refused to go to birthday parties.

Now, it wasn't that I didn't have fun at parties, nor was it that I didn't like anyone enough to give them presents or anything. Just eventually I was afraid of going to birthday parties, so afraid in fact that I absolutely and utterly refused to go. So much that I whipped myself into an anxiety frenzy and essentially made myself sick. My mother, who consulted the pediatrician about this asked what to do… The Doctor said, force him to go and face his fears.

I remember feeling punished in being forced to go, saying things like "I'll go, but I won't eat anything" Thinking then, that a hunger strike may help me get out of going. It didn't. Eventually… I got over it after going to a couple parties and not getting sick.

Fast forward a couple years to my first school play. I had a STUPID part of a honey pot that turned into a carriage in Cinder-beara. Okay okay… so I wasn't the star role, but the thought of going on stage scared me. Stage fright… Scared me sooo much I threw up 2 times before I went on stage, whipping myself into that anxiety frenzy again… What would happen if I forgot my one line… or to turn my cardboard sign from the honeypot into the carriage at the exact moment. Well… even after throwing up twice, they didn't send me home. In elementary school plays… there was no such thing as an understudy. So I went on stage, and well… I was fine. Nothing bad happened, I was just fine. (Since then… I have only had usual stage fright going on stage… not the bad anxiety ridden stuff)

Fast forward a another year to the end of school party (still in elementary school). We had all sorts of stuff… icecream, hotdogs, candy, soda, cake… and I made sure to eat everything… and I was fine. That night, we had tickets to go see the Ringling Bro's Circus. And with the circus comes cotton candy, hotdogs, popcorn, pretzels, soda, and those wonderful blue snow cones!!! Well… after consuming all of that, I naturally felt sick… But I started to feel panicky… My mom walked me down to the boy's bathroom to go relieve myself, but I couldn't go… I couldn't throw up or go to the bathroom. After 20 minutes, and my mother getting notably frustrated because she was missing the circus. (Note… she was not un-sympathetic at all) We finally decided to go back up to the stands to see the circus. Now… we took the long walk to the seats. I sat down, and not more than 2 minutes… In front of everyone (there was about 10 of us that went) I threw up… A LOT… we didn't have anything real to catch it in either… someone emptied their popcorn bucket and eventually gave it to me… but the damage was done… Blue vomit everywhere (those are potent dyes in those snow cones)

I cried, was completely embarrassed, felt sick, and all of my cousins and siblings just couldn't stop laughing and making fun of me. Since then, I haven't been back to the regular circus or have eaten blue snow cones again. (essentially it created a huge fear)

That summer (yes… It still goes on) We went to the shore (Wildwood) and I didn't want to go, but my mom forced me and I had a horrible time the whole trip. I refused to eat anything, my mom tried to force me by giving me my favorite cookies, cereals, McDonalds, candy, ice cream, anything… The most I ate was like 4 french-fries which I choked down… and a half of a cookie. It was the worst vacation I ever had… it only lasted a weekend… but obviously… I did survive through it.

My anxiety kinda disappeared for a little while after that. In middle school I went to Europe with a symphonic band, did plays, etc… Highschool as well, I was social, did bandcamp and plays, concerts, competitions with some anxiety, but not a whole lot.

When I went to college, freshman year was okay… not too anxiety ridden. I was coming to grips with being gay, finally labeling myself as such, and keeping it from everyone with the exception of a couple friends.

Sophomore year though… with a homophobic roommate who hacked in my computer and saw and deleted my pictures… my one sanctuary, well… that started things up again. I was afraid he was gonna kill me in my sleep. Not that he would have been able to, (my friends were slightly psycho and always around) This is also the time I came out to my parents… Another source of anxiety, at least for a little while…

But then… My first real panic attack happened… and I mean full blown panic attack. I will try and describe it the best that I can with as much detail as I can so you can try and feel what I was going through.

It was just after dinner. I had eaten a little too much. Just enough to make myself full, and My father had asked me to pick up one of our cars from the shop. The mechanic we went to was about 15 minutes away, but he was a family friend and always gave us a good deal.
This next paragraph is definitely TMI… you can skip down if you want, but like I said… everything I am writing I feel is totally relevant.

**********************************I excused myself and went to the bathroom. Now… I don't know why, but it always takes me a LONG time in the bathroom. I don't know if I am just conditioned to it, or if it's just the way my body works, but it's not uncommon for me to take about 40 minutes or more… (Yes… I said 40 minutes or more) When ever I try and force things to take less time, I always end up going back to the bathroom like 5 minutes later. It's not that anything is a steady stream or anything like that… but I have stomach cramps and keep pushing things out for the whole time.**********************************

Anyway… after like 20 minutes, my father got impatient and pressured me to come on. I forced myself to finish in the bathroom (big mistake) and went to get in the car with him. By the end of the driveway (we have a private drive) I started getting a hot flash and bad stomach cramps. I told my father to turn around but he told me to shake it off. I looked at him and said please, and he said we will only be a couple minutes… Driving to the end of the street, I was in full panic mode. I was sick… bad stomach cramps (like when ya have diarrhea and have to hold it in), I had a hard time breathing, I was shaking uncontrollably, I was hot and rolled the window down for air, and an unsympathetic father who seemed to think everything was fine.

15 minutes there… I asked my father to stop the car a couple times because I felt like I was gonna throw up. He said… just stick your head out the window. I was in a frenzy. Trapped, Sick, Hot, Pale, heart racing like there was no tomorrow and an un-sympathetic father who thinks this is all just in my head.

It was the longest ride I had ever taken. It was 15 minutes of pure hell and I mean PURE HELL. AND… I had to drive back home. When we got there… I got in the car and drove home. Following my father. By now… things had reached the apex, and now that I was going home, finally, things were getting better. I was still hot and shaky, but the stomach cramps were subsiding. I got home, and still shaking almost to the point of tears. I took myself to bed (this was only 8pm) and that was that. I didn't speak of it again. (though I refused to go back to that mechanic again and quite frankly… anywhere with my father after that for a period of time) Note… I love my father… I really do… and it's not that he loves to torture me… he, like most people… just have a difficult time understanding what I go through.

That started it though… My anxiety was back full force, and wasn't going away. I went to the school psych, who mis-diagnosed me as bipolar, paranoid schizophrenic, and obsessive compulsive before I was finally treated for anxiety. But it wasn't the school psych that found out I had anxiety disorder. It was when I had my first nervous breakdown.

Now… anyone who knows me, knows I am a peaceful person. Mostly I would make myself suffer rather than see anyone, especially my friends and family suffer.

I remember it clearly. Junior year of college… It was in the spring, because everyone was having end of school parties and such. Me, my little brother and my mother were in the kitchen about to have some home-made Stromboli for lunch. My little brother read something in the paper about one of his friends getting stabbed in the neck at a party with a kitchen fork. They died, but at the same time he read it… I had went to go get the knife to cut the Stromboli with, and for a flashing second… I imagined myself doing the same thing to my mother with the knife. Scary… I mean… VERY scary… I handed my mother the knife and she asked me why I looked so pale. I went to go lay down saying I wasn't hungry.

3 days… 3 whole days I didn't say a word… I was obsessed with that thought… not of doing the action… but what happened if I lost control of myself and did the action, what if anyone were to find out I thought that, how could I live with myself, further more, how could I think of something as appalling as murder.

I isolated myself with those thoughts… not telling anyone, and they just festered. I wasn't on any drugs at the time because nothing up to that point was working. Finally… I couldn't take it anymore and confronted my mother with the thoughts I had been having. I was afraid I was going to lose control and do something bad. I was in full tears… completely broken, ready to commit myself to a mental institution or suicide to prevent myself from hurting anyone.
My mother calmed me down like she knew what was going on. And she did… It was anxiety… Something she suffered with for a while. (I remembering her driving us to the NJ shore and her having to stop the car on the side of the road, get out and walk around to catch her breath only to get back in the car and keep driving us)She called her psych and he prescribed me some ativan immediately until the next day when I went in to see him.

He broke it down and told me that what I was suffering from was the classic case of anxiety/panic disorder. Everything I had described, fear of loss of control, obsessive thoughts, being ill, it's all part of it. And that it's very treatable. Immediately he put me on a regiment of paxil, wellbutrin, and ativan. Which calmed me down completely and leveled me off… I was almost back to my old self again… actually… I was really good. I started going to gay clubs, the anxiety seemed to be a thing of the past… till I stopped being able to afford my medication.
Don't ever just stop taking paxil cold turkey. That's a billion dollars worth of advice. Like 3 weeks after I stopped taking paxil I crashed… I crashed hard. So hard I thought I was gonna die and lose control, and feel sick, and break down and cry, and stop breathing. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't eat, and I was completely and utterly paranoid. I was hot all the time and I just wanted to crawl up into a ball and die. It was summer, and school was about to start again.
My mother realized what was going on and bought some more paxil for me, but it was too late. Since stopping cold turkey it never worked right for me again.

Since then… I have been in a constant battle with anxiety. Getting panic attacks at random. Sometimes, I can just be sitting at home watching as non-controversial as the smurfs, and pop… I will get a full blown panic attack. Those aren't the bad ones though.

Sometimes I get panic attacks while I am out, in a club for example. And like… everyone knows… the bathrooms in gay clubs are not for going to the bathroom. I had this utter fear of getting sick and goin to the bathroom and being stuck in a cubicle. On either side, guys getting blow jobs or fucking (even though they shouldn't) and me, in the cubicle between them, with smells and sounds that would stop any romantic activities happening.

Lots of things can instigate a panic attack, though it doesn't really need a catalyst. Meeting new people for the first time, or going to a new place gets me a lot into that "what if I get a panic attack" when I get there. Is there a bathroom available? Driving long distances, especially with heavy stand still traffic will almost always induce those panic feelings. Being forced to do anything or be anywhere for an extended period of time will also have the same effect. All day meetings, long road trips, anything that will require that I stay in one place and not be able to move (for road trips it's the car) cause problems. Sometimes even just going to the grocery store will cause a small bout with anxiety… sometimes enough to put off shopping for another day.
Being a fairly intelligent person, I know that most of these thoughts are brought on by my conscious or subconscious mind. And I know that they are symptoms of an anxiety attack and panic attack. However, whenever I try and calm myself down with thoughts of encouragement that it will soon pass, the symptoms usually get worse. I don't know why… they just do.
The other thing that makes my anxiety worse is that I have the triple threat. Anxiety disorder, Mitrol Valve Prolapse, and Irritable Bowel Syndrome. Mitro Valve Prolapse makes your heart work a little harder because your mitrol valve (the biggest valve in your heart) doesn't close all the way. When it works a little harder, your chest starts to beat a little heavier, sending signals to your brain that… well… there is a problem. Which sends the system into a frenzy. MVP is not something that will kill you… but it has been known to create anxiety attacks. The other fun thing is IBS. Basically whenever I get nervous. I have to go to the bathroom. Some people say it's due to extra acid that's created, some say it's just the way your bowels contract to compensate for the pressure. Either way… I HAVE TO GO! Which also gives me the added problem, that whenever I am having stomach problems. My mind thinks it's anxiety and will send me into a frenzy that way. Either way… it certainly is a pain in the ass!

The IBS also contributes to me not liking to go eat at restaurants. Anything to do with my stomach (digestion or otherwise normal functions) could cause a strange response in my system and send a signal to my brain that a panic attack is coming on. I really do like eating out, but refuse to go to most lunches, dinners, etc… because of it.

People have been asking me… why I am not more social lately. I am trying to work through it. I mean… when someone invites me out to go anywhere… the FIRST thing that pops into my mind is "NO… I can't" I am aware that it's a learned response, and one that's taking me several years to counteract (unsuccessfully I might add) I usually fight through it… but as the destination comes up (i.e. if I am invited to a party or something in 2 days) the suspense gets worse and worse and causes me to go into preparation mode.

My preparation mode is a series of pills I do 24 hours before an event (flying, a party, first date, (not that I have had a lot of those) even eating out to a place I have never been before. Ativan or Loreazepam has been my one saving grace throughout my whole anxiety ordeal. It's my emergency pill to stop an anxiety/panic attack from happening. But because it's a narcotic, I am not supposed to take them on a regular basis. When I go into preparation mode, I take 1 loreazepam the night before… 1 when I wake up, and 2 an hour before the event, along with a stomach med like Kaopectate or something to try and stave off anxiety issues. 90% of the time… it works. But it is not guaranteed. I take them so early so that it gives me a 24 hour period of peace and gets me in the calming mood to go to and be at the places I want to/need to be.
On the few occasions that it doesn't work… I usually excuse myself and leave early. I always drive myself to these events. That way, I can leave when I need to. Sometimes I just suffer through it… Smiling and trying to not become a recluse all the while I feel like I am going to explode or keel over. Basically… all that prep time and everything, and I still had to deal with anxiety problems.

I have tried lots of things to combat this problem, pills, exercise, therapy, hypnosis, aromatherapy, audio/video tapes/seminars, potions, prayer, aversion therapy, cognitive therapy. Nothing has proved effective really long term. I have moved into the city from the suburbs, and that gets me out of the house a little more, but not enough in my eyes. Some of the pills I have taken are, Paxil, Prozac, Celexa, Effexor, Wellbutrin, Seroquel, Ativan (Loreazepam), Zoloft, Buspar, Depakote, Geodon, Lamictal, Lexapro, Toporol, and Tegretol. I have tried St. John's Wort, those discusting juices such as NONI, stayed away from junk food (especially caffeine). Some things make me worse… others stabilize me… but not to the point of the anxiety being gone.

I have bought the Midwest Anxiety Clinic tapes and have gone through the work book and carried around the flash cards. It just doesn't work all the time. I want it to… believe me… I WANT IT TO WORK!

Woah… 6 Microsoft Word pages at 12 point font… and it's still not everything. But I am tired of typing at the moment. I just want you to know what I have been through… and what I still go through. Some of the details were a little… disturbing I know… and my case is worse than a lot of people's but not the worst out there. If you have ever had a panic or anxiety attack, you know what I go through. If not, I hope you never have to go through one. At the end of the day, you live through it. But most times it creates an instant phobia of whatever you're doing or wherever you're going that takes days, months, and sometimes years to get over (I still haven't gone back to that mechanic, the circus, or eaten a blue snow cone to this day!)