Tag Archives: fear

Still panic with certain doctors

I’ve seen Dr F for going on 5 years now, yet I still panic sitting in her waiting room. 

I trust her, I like her as a doctor, but the triggers around gyn exams are still huge and scary. I’m trying to remind myself I trust her and like her and that she’s safe. I’m still shaking…

This sucks. 


It’s futile

Every once in a while, I get up the nerve to try to explain why someone’s comments in support of trump are hurtful to others; that what the man stands for and how he behaves are abusive… and every time I come up against people telling me how wrong Hillary is. I didn’t bring her into the conversation, but that’s their only defense. 

I’m back to feeling like I did growing up; that there’s no escape because no one believes there’s a problem. 

I know a huge chunk of the country (and the world) is seriously disturbed by the election results, but it feels like our cries are falling on deaf ears… it’s futile to argue or try to change things…


The thought of psych meds makes my chest tight

​I’m going to see my pcp about trying an antidepressant again. It’s kinda freaking me out. The last time I was on meds regularly for this, I pretty much lived in one psych hospital or another… I haven’t been that bad since coming off all meds 5 years ago. I really don’t want to get back to that space again. :/

I dunno what’s better; dealing with ridiculous depression and anxiety, or risking another revolving-door hospital experience. Dr C thinks it might work out better this time, especially if I stick to just an antidepressant. But that’s how it started last time… I might plan ahead and insist Dr S not prescribe anything after like 6 months, and nothing other than an a/d… and maybe agree that if I end up hospitalized at any point, we work on stopping the meds immediately instead of tweaking or adding. 


Anxiety is high today

I’m not sure why, but I’m freaking out about everything today. I’m normally ok driving places, but today I don’t want to drive. I don’t even want to be away from this spot on the couch. 

I’m supposed to meet a friend for dinner and give her the art piece she purchased, but I’m about in tears thinking about having to leave home or be social. My heart is doing the floppy fish thing too…

I really don’t know where all this anxiety is coming from. It’s not characteristic for me (at least not lately) to be this agoraphobic… I know Dr C would say she was glad I went out and did it despite the anxiety, but that’s not the bad part. I just don’t like that the anxiety is so intense around it. I also don’t like not knowing the trigger for it. Why is it that sometimes this anxiety feels so debilitating, but other times I’m fine going places? 

I want to curl up and cry and hide from the world…


Kinda lost

Saw Dr C today. We did some art. It was around the concept of a baby, and how to keep that baby safe…

It came about because of my panic yesterday around the concept of ever having been a baby. I don’t really remember yesterday’s session, but I remember the dread and fear and panic and denial around her statement that I was born a good baby. All I could think was that I was never a baby… I couldn’t even fathom the concept of ever having been a baby. I knew at the time that pictures of “me” as a baby existed. I knew somewhere in my head that it’s impossible to be alive without ever having been a baby, but I couldn’t admit/understand/connect to ever having been one.

Later, after the session (and again today), I am mad at her for suggesting it. Part of me knows it’s a simple biological truth; I was at one time a baby, but… I wasn’t (or I can’t bring myself to accept it). There’s this huge fear around acknowledging that I may ever have been a baby. It pisses me off to think about it. The image that comes into my head when I think of myself as a baby is scary… I don’t want it.

Even now, as I write this, I’m angered by the thought of being a baby… angered and scared terrified. It feels like someone might die; like I might die… and my heart rate soars through the roof… and I want to shred my body into a million little pieces so I don’t have to feel the fear and body sensations…

I don’t really know what to do with myself. Whatever was stirred yesterday in session, and re-surfaced today, is continuing to stir and bubble. I don’t know how to process it. I’m not sure what to make of it. The thought of more surfacing is intimidating. It’s creepy & scary & enraging… I hate it.

The baby in the art today had no face, or feet, or hands (though I painted in hands after she suggested it). If the baby has no face though, it can’t see the scary, or hear it, or cry (and get in trouble) or smell anything. The baby doesn’t know if anyone is coming, if they are good or bad, until whatever it is that’s going to happen will happen. It kinda protects the baby, but it also scares him… Dr C was looking for something. In the time she was searching, I grew more and more uncomfortable looking at the baby I had painted. I wanted to scribble over it, or spill paint over it – anything to obliterate the image of the kid. I censored telling Dr C that I wanted to erase the kid from the page. Instead, I asked what we were going to do with the baby because it was making me uncomfortable looking at it (what an understatement!). She said we were going to to make the baby safe. I had no idea what to do, so I tried to draw a protective person in the picture. Unfortunately, she turned out scary. I wasn’t sure how to fix it. I did a few other layers but it was only making everything worse. Dr C offered to help. She drew in someone holding the baby. I added a blanket to cover him… then time was up. As we were cleaning up, she asked if the baby was safe now… I told her he was “safer”, but I wouldn’t go so far as to call him safe. I blew out of there somewhat fast after cleaning up. I wanted to stay and change the picture more, but her light had gone off (indicating another client was waiting). I also felt like I needed to run away from there. It felt like trying to make the kid in the picture safe was a forced thing and wouldn’t really actually do anything to keep him safe. It felt like a facade…

Suddenly I’m out of that head-space. I know I have reactions to things, but once it disappears, it feels foreign. Those walls are back again, and are really high and thick. It feels like all my experiences happen in isolation chambers. If I’m not in the chamber, I really have no concept of what goes on there. I guess that’s the dissociation… I should ask Dr. C what the new name is for that diagnosis. It used to be DD:NOS, but I know the newest DSM changed that. I definitely have isolated experiences, but they are not so severely isolated that I would have “alters”. I just can’t really access much of the experiences unless I’m in that particular head-space. I may know they happened (or the general gist of it, most of the time… there used to be a time where I totally had no memory at all of days or even months), I just understand them as something someone else described to me once…

I should stop writing. My head is beginning to spin, and I’m losing focus on what I want to say.


It feels weird 

I’m not sure what’s going on with me. 

I can’t sleep, but I don’t ever actually put on my music or meditations. 

I’m exhausted, but I can’t slow down. I feel like I need to keep moving till I fix everything (not that I actually can. I just can’t seem to slow down). It’s very much like that feeling of running from something, except I don’t know what i’m running from. I don’t really have that impending seems of doom, just have to keep going. 

I skipped out on therapy last week (quite possibly the first time ever), then needed to cancel yesterday’s session for lack of transportation… I miss the concept of it, but I’m not aware of any really pressing issues to talk about (or I’m avoiding them).

The insomnia is getting worse again. After a brief week of “normal” sleep, I’m back to not able to remain sleeping no matter how exhausted I feel. We went camping over the weekend and I think I got 3 or 4 hours of light, intermittent sleep. I was hoping to be able to get more Sunday night, but I was up most of that might also. Tonight, we came to bed around 11 and I was awake by 2:30… :/ I’m approaching that point where the lack of sleep becomes a huge detriment to my mental health. I need to figure out how to get more hours in a night. My usual aids are not helping or being left untried. I’ve been trying to get myself to put on my music, but there’s something uncomfortable/scary/intimidating about not being able to hear what’s going on in the rest of the apartment. It feels like I need to be aware of any potential dangers. It’s different than the times I get terrified to go to bed. I’m not terrified now, just hyper-aware and feel a pressure to remain so… I need to stay awake “in case” (but don’t ask me what, because I’m not sure)…

I hope the car thing gets figured out soon. I think talking to Dr C about this might be a good idea. I need to figure out what i’m running from and what i’m worried about happening. 

I really wish I could sleep. My brain is not shutting off. It’s like a constant buzz of white noise; I’m not consciously aware of any thoughts keeping me awake, but there’s a pressure to remain aware. It’s an emotional thing more than a cognitive thing…


Surprise! Another trigger…

There was a scene in the Empire pilot where one of the sons was remembering the first time he dressed in his mom’s heels in front of his dad. The dad got really mad and grabbed the kid. He stormed out of the room with the kid under his arm. The mom yelled after him, scared and angry…

Something about that scene hit home, but I’m not totally sure how or why. It hit really hard. It winded me and made me cry. It felt overwhelming and heavy. It still feels overwhelming and heavy… I can’t tell if I related more to running after him screaming, or watching him storm off with the kid, or being the kid under his arm… or maybe all of it? But it dug at something deep.

Part of me wants to reach out to Dr C, but I can’t justify bothering her on her weekend. I’ll just try to cover it Monday (along with everything else I want to cover – how to deal with her month away, more of what was in that journal entry from 2 weeks ago, the anniversary, the growing depression…)

I want my heart to creep back into my chest; it’s still on the floor…