In need of a reprieve

I went to church last week for the first time in over a year. My husband and I went and we let our son go into the daycare area, while we attended the service. 

The church has set up home at a local middle school, so they hold service in the auditorium. I’ve noticed this has become something more churches are doing. So anywho, instead of pews, like I was used to growing up, they had folding chairs set up, and we sat in the back row. Now, when I say back row, I don’t mean against a wall. There was plenty of room for people to stand and walk behind us, of course, this leaves someone like me open to an anxiety attack. And have an anxiety attack I did. It wasn’t one that everyone could visibly see, I don’t well with keeping it harnessed within myself, but I struggled. Eventually, I was able to calm down, the service ended and we collected our son. 

Tomorrow is Sunday and I intended on going to the service. The problem is, my husband has to work so I’ll be going alone. It’s a quarter after one and I’m still laying here, awake, and working myself into a frenzy, because I’m so worried about going alone. I’m having an anxiety attack before I even step place into the school for the service.

A place that I should feel safe and comfortable, and I can’t even get a grasp long enough to sleep and then go. I’m questioning whether I’ll even be able to pull myself out of bed early enough tomorrow to go now, because not only will I be tired from lack of sleep, but anxiety attacks are exhausting. My son had so much fun last week though, and I know he was looking forward to going tomorrow too, so I feel bad for possibly canceling his fun time at church.

I struggle like this everyday, with self inhibiting anxiety and stress. Will there ever come an end to it ? It’s absolutely frustrating and beyond draining. 

What am I supposed to do ?

❤ LAFMommy

Advertisements

Struggles

I’m contemplating on a new tattoo, or a couple. I’m behind on getting the semicolon tattoo, although it is something I have been longing to get since the Semicolon Tattoo Project began. 

I haven’t been able to make up my mind on exact placement nor if I just want the semicolon itself or anything with it. 

Suffering from PTSD and depression doesn’t come without thoughts of suicide and no longer existing in a world that can be so cruel. It’s a hard pill to swallow, but the thoughts are much more frequent than I would like to admit. Sometimes, it just seems it would be easier, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I have too much to look forward to, to let suicide take over. It’s permanent. I plan to experience every bit of Tristan’s life, and if I’m not alive I can’t do that. I refuse to give up, no matter how hard I struggle. No matter how hard my mind or my illnesses fight against me. 

My last major depressive episode was from January to almost April, the winter months are always the hardest. Seasonal depression. I fought so hard, but for a majority of that time I didn’t think I would win. It’s impossible to come out unscathed; with worry of the next time already etched in ones brain. I’m determined to continue fighting, even though the next episode, I know, will creep up on me at some point. 

To those that read my blog, if you suffer, you aren’t alone. Some days are hard as hell and feel like there’s only one way out, but then there are the good days. Those days are what motivate me to keep pushing. Keep looking for that glimpse of hope; grasp even the smallest light in your life and hold on. The fear and the episodes; they won’t last forever. 

And I’ll be someone you can reach out to, even in my own struggle. 

❤ LAFMommy

Anxiously Waiting

Yesterday I went to go renew my son’s health insurance. I could have mailed in the renewal form, but I needed to include a copy of his birth certificate and a copy of his social security card. I did not want to take any chances of either of these getting into the wrong hands, so I went to their office. 

As soon as I walked in, I regretted my decision of going. The office was packed; almost every seat had a body, and there were screaming children every where. We took a number and then a seat and we waited. Tristan was very well behaved, playing with me and watching the other people, and for that, I was appreciative. 

However; the longer I sat, the more anxious I became. I was unable to get a corner seat, where I could safely have my back against the wall and have a view of the entire room. My seat was situated in the very center of the room, in the middle of everyone. I felt so exposed; I had people constantly walking around me, bumping my stroller, or being overly figity near me. 

I was so vulnerable. At one point, I thought a little boy was going to climb into my lap, and it even seemed like he was plotting on stealing my wallet from my diaper bag. He looked to be around the age of 9 or so, and kept getting closer to me and he was not hiding the fact that he was openly looking into my bag, at all. As soon as I zipped my bag closed, he moved away. 

Finally ! They called my number, “63”, and I jumped out of my chair. I had to finish filling out a form while at the counter, and I barely managed to do so, I was shaking so badly. The woman must have thought I was ignorant because she would tell me what to fill out and I would do it incorrectly. She spoke to me as if I were garbage, then I said, “I do not know how you ladies do this every day, I have PTSD, and my nerves are so shot I could vomit.” At that point she became friendly. I rushed to finish everything so I could leave and get back to my comfort zone. 

I was nearly ran off the road on the way home, which did not help my anxiety, and by the time I arrived home I was exhausted. I had a headache hit me, which quickly turned to a migraine, I could barely function. I laid down for a nap, at the direction of my husband, around 8:30. I woke up around 12:30 and was having a panic attack and then had trouble falling asleep. Once I fell back to sleep, I struggled to stay calm and found myself constantly waking in a state of panic. The smallest occurrences can set off my panic, it is like a ticking bomb. I kept waking, feeling like my chest was caving in, unable to catch my breath. 

I suffer every day. I wish I could say this happens once in a while, but I am not that lucky. I go through this many times a week. I cannot control it, it controls me. My disease tells me what to do and how to live. Something that could be such a small trip to one person is like building up and accomplishing a marathon for me, and it is draining. 

It took nearly a month for me to build the courage to go to that office and turn in the information for my son to keep his insurance. Then, it cost me the rest of the day and night to recover from the trip. At least my husband knows how hard it is for me and helps me when I need him. 

It was brutal. Maybe, one day, I will find a trip away from home to be easy. Maybe. 

❤ LAFMommy