Red Alert, Shields Up!

 

Do you check your pulse?

I do.

All. The. Time.

Suffice it to say, I have health anxiety. Full out, freak out, stress out health anxiety.

I describe it as,

An irrational fear of illness and/or death due to the inability to logically explain certain physical sensations during a specific period of time whereby the anxiety and panic are relieved once the physical sensations(s) subside.

Case in point:

Today, I was sitting on the couch. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping and I was enjoying a cup of tea. A picture postcard morning.

All of a sudden, out of no where, I felt like I was being smothered, I couldn’t take a deep breath and my stomach started hurting. Ah, the infamous stomach ache. How I despise thee. Commence the racing heart, sweating and thoughts of sheer terror and I had officially entered the domain of a psychiatric war zone. Having said that however, when it happens, you don’t know that it’s “all in your head” and that you aren’t actually in any “real” danger. You just think you are about to die and that your poor children will come home from school and see you lying in a pile of your own vomit on the bathroom floor with your pants pulled down to your ankles.

Seriously.

It’s pretty fucked up, eh?!

I raced to the washroom where I proceeded to do what one does in the washroom. But, what I am quite sure is the anomaly, I panicked. Over a stomach ache. A naturally occurring, quite necessary, physical action that all humans experience. Why, why, why?

The logical side of me will explain.

I am in a constant, heightened sense of reality. I am on the alert to recognize any physical sensation that is out of the “norm” or which I cannot logically explain. Once discovered, within a millisecond, I irrationally decide whether to ignore it or whether I should sound the alarm and proceed down the spiralling abyss into the psychiatric war zone.

Nine times out of ten I choose the spiralling abyss to hell.

It is so easy to sit here now, without a stomach ache, and logically explain what happens during an attack of this magnitude. While it is occurring however, there is no logic. The logical part of your brain shuts down and you enter a realm of disillusion, confusion and terror.

There could be no rational explanation for my stomach ache. It was something that was threatening my existence and as a result, I entered fight or flight mode. A logical outsider with the same experience would think, “Oh, I have to poo”.

Not me.

I think “Holy shit, something terrible is happening.  Red alert!  Shields up!  Set phasers to stun and ready photon torpedoes!”

Seriously.

This is my life with a stomach ache.
With health anxiety.
With a raging hormonal imbalance.
With panic.

It’s not just stomach aches that can now set me in to a state of sheer panic. Any unexplained physical sensation can send me into the brink of instability and down the path of panic. It can be my racing heart, a hot flash, a pulled muscle or a urinary tract infection.

It has been about five months now since the switch was flipped and I jumped down this rabbit hole of anxiety. I have tried an SSRI (I had a bad reaction so I came off it), yoga, therapy and vitamins. I have not tried the bio-identical hormones yet as my family doctor is concerned there may be an increased risk given my strong family history of breast and ovarian cancer. I think it might be time to try a different anti-depressant. I feel like I have exhausted the natural remedies and I just don’t want to feel like this all of the time. I want to be able to have a normal stomach ache. Like a normal person.

Yah, yah, I hate the word normal too. But I long to be normal.

So there you have it. My day in a nut shell. It went from calm and relaxing to intensely horrifying in the blink of an eye.

Damn you anxiety.

Damn you panic.

Damn you hormonal roller coaster.

Do you experience anything similar? Do you have health anxiety? Do you struggle with finding logic and rational thought during a panic attack? What tools do you use to help your anxiety and/or panic? Are you on an anti-depressant? Please share your story. Your experience, tips, tools and knowledge will help me and others.

Yours in panic,
The Flip

© The Flip of the Switch, March 2016.

 

 

 

 

 

Hormonal Roller Coaster

This blog post discusses women’s health issues and other things that would make my husband squirm, gag and possibly vomit. You’ve been warned.

I met with a new family doctor who specializes in women’s health and more specifically, hormonal balance.

Amen.

Up in the great, white north (a.k.a. Canada) our health care is provided by the province and is funded, for the most part, by our taxes.  We do not usually pay to go to a family doctor or the hospital.  Nor do we usually pay for X-rays, vaccinations and the like.

Having said that, we can access certain medical tests and practitioners quicker and easier if we choose to go private and pay for these services.  This new doctor that I met is just that.  She is a family doctor but, she has chosen to open a private clinic that is not funded by the provincial government as it is outside the realm of their financial responsibility.  Apparently, hormonal balance just isn’t a provincial priority.

I opted to try the private route because I cannot continue to live in this perpetual state of chaos.  A constant state of panic, anxiety and the general sense that I am losing my fucking mind.

I scheduled an appointment a while back and it was for this week.  Leading up to my appointment, I had twelve vials of blood sucked out of me which were mostly covered under our provincial health plan. Phew!

In a nutshell, I am estrogen dominant.

This is exactly what I told my other family doctor back in November when I first started having symptoms of perimenopause.  I told her I thought this was all hormonal and she said, “It can’t be, you’re too young”.

I have gone through three and a half months of hell because my family doctor didn’t believe this could all be hormones and I didn’t believe myself.  I should have believed in myself but I didn’t.  Sigh.

This new doctor went through my family history (which is a complete gene swamp), my symptoms (good lord, it was a long conversation) and then she went over my blood test results.

Estrogen dominance.

Part of me wanted to stand up and scream “Eureka!”.

I should have.

But I didn’t.

A lost opportunity.  Oh well.

It turns out, during one’s luteal phase (the last two weeks of your cycle), estradiol should be below 790 pmol/L.

Mine was over 1,000 pmol/L.

Boom!  There it is!

Estrogen dominance.

On top of that, I have low progesterone;  I don’t have enough progesterone to balance out (lower) the estradiol.

Eureka!

I’m not losing my fucking mind after all!

Well I am, but at least we know the cause!

In addition, I have very little vitamin D (which affects mood) and also need to supplement with B Complex and magnesium (which will apparently help my anxiety).

Say it with me…

Eureka!

To balance out the estrogen, I am starting bio-identical progesterone cream.  I am starting on the lowest dose and it is a cream I will rub into my forearms the last two weeks of my cycle.

There could be side effects such as bloating and increased anxiety (God help me!), but we are talking about my quality of life and right now, it sucks so I am willing to try the progesterone cream to see what happens.

Oh, and I have a urinary tract infection. Everything else just wasn’t enough. Peeing blood is the icing on the cake.  Why not freak out the anxious, panicky girl by making her pee blood!  Someone up there is having a good laugh!  Seriously.  Please pass the antibiotics and someone fetch me a martini. Fun times.

So there you have it.

I am indeed losing my mind, but thankfully we have identified the cause.  My hormones are riding a roller coaster through hell.

When will this chaotic, nauseating, heart palpitating, panic filled ride end?

They say perimenopause can last years.

YEARS!

I said it before and I’ll say it again.

In my next life I’m coming back as a sexy man.

 

© The Flip of the Switch, February 2016.

 

 

 

 

 

It is all a Facade

 

Look at me.

Really look at me.

What do you see?

You likely see a woman who is put together quite well.  Beautifully styled hair. Flattering make up. Conservative clothing;  perhaps leggings, a designer sweater, high boots and a favourite handbag.

You are probably thinking that I have it all. The house, the car, the wardrobe, the successful husband.

Well, I don’t.

I do not have it all.

It’s all a facade.

Created to trick you into thinking that I have it all.

It masks my internal despair.

For on the inside, I am in a state of emergency.  Always on red alert.  Wildly searching for my sanity.  Terrified that I am going to die or go insane.  Scared to be alone. Trapped in my mind.

Yes, when you see me, I look well put together.  I am a pillar of strength.  A woman who can take on anything, be anything.  A woman thought highly of in the community.  A woman that people can lean on, depend on, confide in.  A woman of unparalleled character.

And yet, I have lost myself.

On the outside, it is all a facade.

 

© The Flip of the Switch, January 2016.

 

 

1980

1980.  That was the year of change. That is when you left.  Too self absorbed to fathom the chaotic impact you had on me.  Too taken aback by lust to understand that you had stolen my heart and damaged it beyond repair.  At the time, I was blind to the repercussions your actions would have on my life.  I was naive to think that you would ever be able to put me first, love me as a father should.  As a little girl, control was not something I possessed and my childish thoughts and dreams were in fact, unattainable fantasies.  As I recall my early childhood, I am reminded of what once was.  But I know now, it was all an illusion.  A child learns to repress the negative at an early age, to foster resiliency; emotional survival.  But alas, my attempts at regression have failed. My reality has caught up with me, my childhood illusions have become unravelled.  As I look through the keyhole to my soul, I know that you changed me, your actions caused irreparable damage to my heart and to my mind. Damage that has poisoned my adult life.  Here I sit, reminiscent of all the decisions you made; all of your poor choices.  The ripple effect is unparalleled, you hurt so many people, impacted the destiny of so many lives.  All consciously. You had choices to make and you consistently chose wrong.  You looked into my eyes and lied; filled me with hope and dreams and quashed them like no other. How do I come to peace with that?  As a grown woman, I am angry and furiously disappointed. I must however, realize those were not my choices and I had no control over you.  I must let go of my resentment so that I can thrive and live a happier life.  I am taking control now and I refuse to be dictated by my childhood fears and disenchanted dreams. For while you were once everything, now you are nothing.

© The Flip of the Switch, February 2016.

 

Spinning

My mind is full of panic. Spinning on the wheel of chaos. The anxiety is suffocating, I can’t breathe. Triggered by the physical sensations occurring throughout my body. My stomach hurts. My thoughts are racing. My heart is beating hard and fast. I’m shaky. Wait, am I starting to sweat? Why is it so hot in here? There must be something very wrong for me to feel shaky, hot and sweaty. It couldn’t be that I just changed over the laundry and walked up a flight of stairs. No, there’s no room for logic here. Only irrational thoughts are allowed to take up residence in my mind. The stomach ache. Oh, it won’t go away. I hate IBS. I’m going to die in the washroom like Elvis Presley. Seriously. These are the thoughts I have. These are the completely irrational, illogical, false thoughts I have all the time. Health anxiety. You bitch. There is no escape. Sigh. Pull yourself together. It is just a stomach ache. Not a big deal. Sit down. Give it a minute. But I’m shaky. Yah, you haven’t eaten breakfast yet. It’s so bloody hot and I’m sweating.It is just from doing laundry and walking up the stairs. My heart. Oh my god, my heart is beating fast. Yes, you just walked up the stairs. You don’t exercise, you are out of shape. Anyone’s heart would beat a little faster walking up the stairs. It is normal. It happens to everyone.

Inhale 1, 2, 3, 4…Exhale 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

Oh logic, how I have missed thee. Where the hell were you? Don’t ever leave me again! I’m calming down.  I’m not as hot. My heart is returning to its happy place. Writing it down helps.  It almost forces me to look at the logical side instead of just letting my mind spin on the wheel of chaotic thought! The spinning is hard to stop. How much time has passed? Maybe fifteen minutes, maybe longer. I’m not sure. I lost track of time. The minutes blurred together.

Inhale 1, 2, 3, 4…Exhale 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

The spinning has stopped. Time to move on with my day. Try to forget this happened. Logic, you better stay strong, I have a lot to accomplish today.

© The Flip of the Switch, February 2016.

An Afterthought

His perception of my needs is grossly erroneous.  Representative of his continued refusal to listen and absorb my words; accept my longing for connection, for emotional depth. We have talked this to the brinks of insanity. I need you.  Your love, your arms wrapped around me, your refuge.  Your confidence, your strength. I need you to look into my eyes and see the depths of my soul.  Provide compassion, without judgement. Love, without obligation. Friendship, without insult. But sadly, I digress.  For this is not our reality.  Our relationship has been reduced to emotional instability, heart wrenching exchanges and magnificent disappointments.  I am ashamed of what our marriage, our friendship, has become.  You and I, we speak different languages.  I am telling you what I need, what I want, but you are not listening. You are absorbed, so deeply, in your own desires that you cannot accurately perceive mine.  Driven by power, money and success, it is illogical to you that I want loving kindness.  Your life dictated by time, clients and checklists, it is irrational to you that I want passion. One must share your worldview to carry legitimacy.  Thus, I am not a priority and our marriage is but an afterthought.

© The Flip of the Switch, February 2016.

To the Victor Go the Spoils

Today I broke free from your clutches; from your relentless desire to consume my sanity.

I have been a prisoner in my home and in my mind for far too long.

Today I walked out the door,
and I did not look back.
I drove my car.
Fast.
Dangerously fast.
It was exhilarating.

The windows were down and the bass of the music was soothing to my soul.

I have taken back control.

Oh, you tried to trick me a few times, but I persevered.
There was nothing you could do to stop me today.

It is a sign that your strength is weakening.  Your grip is faltering, your power wavering. You won’t have a hold much longer.  I can feel the victory rushing through my veins.  A taste of the other side.  A taste of what is to come.

For I reign over my mind and body.  Not you, Anxiety.  You are not welcome to do as you wish, you are not welcome to force yourself upon me.  Your intimidation will not prevail. I refuse to give in to your mind games; to your feeble attempts to manipulate me.

Today, I overcame your power.

To the victor go the spoils.

 

© The Flip of the Switch, February 2016.

 

Just Breathe II

 

I just finished a private yoga session in my home.  I have chosen to have someone come to my home so that (a) I can’t make excuses and not attend and (b) I honestly don’t think I could handle the stress and anxiety of being in a room with a lot of people.  Turns out I made the right decision; more on that in a moment.

My yoga instructor is a young woman who has the most lovely voice; serenity beyond compare.  Calmness was radiating from her as she walked through my front door.

We had talked over the telephone about my current struggles and whether yoga could play a role in helping to still my mind and calm my soul.  She had actually been drawn to yoga after a time in her life that was riddled with anxiety and panic attacks.  Thus, she could appreciate what I had been experiencing.  It was yoga that ultimately provided her with the tools to stop the anxiety in its tracks and she hasn’t had a panic attack since.

We started off with slow, deep breathing.  Yes, I know.  Complete contradiction to my earlier post, but hear me out.  There is a difference between telling someone to breathe during a panic attack and teaching someone to breathe to help deter a panic attack;  to help them focus and use their inner strength to find calmness.

We moved to some of the easier poses and about midway through the session came to warrior pose.  Now, this is a relatively easy pose.  You are in a bit of a lunge with your arms extended.  Nothing too complicated.  It was at this time however, that I started to notice sensations in my body that initiated my fight or flight switch.  My heart was beating faster, I was sweating and my legs were shaking. Logically, I knew it was natural for my heart to beat faster because I was exercising.  I knew I should have been sweating because I was moving my body.  As for my legs, well I haven’t used them in three months so my muscles were likely in shock.  Logic can be so bloody logical!

It didn’t matter how hard I tried to convince myself of this logic.  The switch had been flipped and there was no turning back!  I was sprinting down a path of sheer panic!

I told my instructor that I had to stop.  She quite firmly told me to go to child’s pose. Child’s pose is where you are curled up into a ball and your forehead is on the ground. She started speaking with her angelic voice and counting out breathing.

Inhale, 1, 2, 3, 4…exhale 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

Inhale, 1, 2, 3, 4…exhale 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

She continued for about five minutes.  Just breathing.  Focusing solely on the breath.

The relief was immediate.

As soon as my forehead was resting on the ground and I started breathing, I was bathed in serenity.  My heart slowed down.  I was no longer hot.  The shaking had subsided.

It was instantaneous.

I was in shock.  How could this pose and this breathing quite literally stop me from sprinting down the path of panic?  Me, the non-believer.  The person who quite vehemently declared that no one should ever tell me to just breathe!

Afterwards, she explained that it is the breath that is the tool that will ultimately give me the power to stop the anxiety.  She also said it is crucial that my forehead be on the ground because it will trigger my vagus nerve which in turn, will help to calm me.  She instructed me to go to child’s pose whenever I feel the first twinge of anxiety and/or panic.  She told me to leave my yoga mat in the middle of my living room and go there when I need to.

Breathe.

Count my breaths.

Our session lasted an hour and a half.  I am sitting here recalling all that she said, so angelically.  Any chance I get to breathe, I am to practice.  If I am sitting in the car, watching television or in the line at the grocery store, it is an opportunity to breathe. To focus on my well being.  Find my inner strength and peace through breathing.

I know it sounds mystical, intangible, unbelievable.  A few hours ago, I would have agreed.  But having been the fortunate recipient of the immediate relief that yoga offered me in the midst of a downward spiral, I am a believer.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Repeat.

Namaste.

 

© The Flip of the Switch, February 2016.

The Curtain

What is behind your curtain?

Let me tell you about mine.

Behind my curtain, I am a ball of anxiety.  A bundle of nerves.  A million electrical currents trying to find their way; searching for a way to become grounded.

Insecurities abound.  They are limitless.

Questions are insurmountable.
Questions pertaining to my sanity, my sense of self, my worldview.

What is to become of me?

The once strong, confident woman, who possesses a touch of arrogance and an uncanny, sarcastic sense of humour has changed.

I am not what I once was.  There is a new strain to my identity, one that is characterized by nervousness, anxiety and insecurity.  One that I am not familiar with and do not want to get to know.  I suppose however, that in order to defeat your enemy, you must get to know them.  Walk in their shoes and discover their plans in an effort to foil them.  Thus, I am forced to get to know this most suffocating strain of my identity; this nervousness, this anxiety, this insecurity.

Behind my curtain, I am struggling to maintain my power over anxiety.
I must make every effort to get up, go out; resist the urge to stay in bed, rolled up in that ball of nerves.
Behind my curtain is a woman who once soared.
Behind my curtain is a leader who has lost her footing but will not falter.
Behind my curtain is a woman who is scared but will always show you a smile of sincerity and give you a hand to hold.

Although my curtain is drawn, I am reminded of the person I was just a few short months ago.  My power and my tenacity are still within me, they have just been hushed by the overbearing sound of anxiety.

I must get louder.

Free my old self, rescue her from the depths of the darkness.

Cue the orchestra.

The curtain is about to open.

 

© The Flip of the Switch, February 2016.

 

Tootin’ My Own Horn

Toot toot!

I’m not one to usually toot my own horn, but I feel compelled to do so.

Not only did I drive my daughter to dance tonight, but I picked her up too!

Holy moly guacamole!

Now, for all of you who do not have an issue with anxiety and/or panic, you must be thinking that I have completely lost my mind and you may not understand why this is a big deal.  I get it.

But, to those of you who know anxiety, know panic, you will know this is a massive accomplishment!

Woo hoo!

I haven’t done that, by myself, in about two months.  Seriously.

I told you this was a BIG DEAL!!!

I’m not going to lie.  It was hard.  I was scanning, scanning, scanning my body for any signs of anxiety (which of course, we know can actually cause more anxiety! Go figure!). My heart was racing, my mind was looping around like a hamster wheel and I had Taylor Swift blaring!  Singing along whilst slightly hyperventilating!  It was uncomfortably liberating!

So that’s it.  My big accomplishment of the day.

Not too shabby if I do say so myself.

Toot toot!

 

© The Flip of the Switch, February 2016.