Have you ever fainted? Have you ever nearly fainted? Then you understand.
For those that haven’t, its an odd sensation.
Yesterday I was sitting on my couch. Knees bent, feet on the coffee table, working on my laptop.
I kept hearing some kid screaming at the top of their lungs. It sounded like a tantrum but just kept happening. Finally, I thought I should look out, just to make sure nothing was wrong.
I jumped up, walked 5 steps, looked at a house across the street and everything started going black. I held on to the door and for some reason, in my head, kept repeating my name.
Weird. The blackness almost took me completely over, but then faded away.
During those seconds, I didn’t feel a thing. I knew I was going out. I knew it wasn’t a good thing, but it was like reading a book.
Once it was over however, the terror was on.
I raced to my room and repeatedly took my blood pressure. I called my spouse at work who couldn’t come home and at that moment, couldn’t talk. I decided to get dressed as I felt so shaky and weak that I was likely going to have to call 9-1-1.
My spouse called back and was good about it but not leaving work. My spouse offered my mother-in-law or daughter-in-law, our son or EMS as my spouse is the only person in the office on Saturday and not past the 90 day probation period. It’s understandable.
So, pulse ox, blood pressure, heart sounds with a stethoscope monitoring galore.
I accessed my Facebook support groups, put a call into the Cardiologist (Who by the way, never called me back), and went to that answers website where you pay a fee and professionals will respond, even doctors.
The website doc could have made matters much worse but oddly, I didn’t fixate on what he said. He thought it was likely common but listed all of the textbook reasons why I should immediately go to the Emergency Room. I can Google for free, thanks.
When pressed as to if he himself has experienced such a thing, responded curtly along with how to make sure he gets paid for his answer.
My Facebook group was most helpful along with websites. I tried to stay away from worst case possibilities as its not a common thing for me and I was on the dehydrated side. But. That didn’t, doesn’t keep me from worrying it will happen again.
In my reasoning mind I know such a fast change in position coupled with dehydration can cause exactly what happened.
In my fearful mind, I don’t care. I’m scared and worn out from being so fearful and unhappy for the last 9 months.
In my fearful mind I feel like a victim. I feel trapped in this haze of terror, fear, unrest and disbelief.
It had gotten bad enough that I finally broke down and took .125 mg of an Ativan.
For those not aware, I am terrified of medicine. I have pills that are .5mg, but fearful of them, so I quarter the pill.
It’s just enough to eventually bring the terror down to just a hair below panic. Semi-tolerable.
It takes a long time to work. Probably close to two hours yesterday. Of course, such a small dose has a big hill to climb.
Once it finally kicked in, I felt partially normal.
Earlier in the day I started reconsidering Zolof again. My doc gave me 12.5mg to start but I just can’t take it. I’m fearful. I went to the answers website and chatted with a Pharmacist who was bewildered as to why such a low dose was an issue. I don’t think he ever got it. He eventually resorted to it being such a low dose that it wouldn’t register and talked about the benefits of SSRI meds, well tolerated at such a low dose, etc.
Yeah, its still sitting there. I put my 1/2 of a micro pill up next to my spouses who takes 100mg. It looks like a fruit fly in comparison. Harmless looking really….but….nope. couldn’t do it.
I have actually considered just taking the Ativan for a few days instead.
I know literature suggests no more than 2-4 weeks. My doc thought with the nano dose I will take, it could be longer. She actually wants me to take the Ativan along with the Zoloft in an effort to preemptively strike the inevitable terror that will come with me taking a new pill. Which would be awesome….if I could take the damned thing….
So, Ativan is on the table. This morning I am PLANNING on taking my nano dose and maybe “enjoying” my day. I figure if I take it once we are up and before we start planning our day, I will be capable of leaving the house and perhaps experiencing some true relaxation or dare I hope, joy. At minimum, I’m hoping to have a normal outting less torment.
Planning is the key word. When you’re terrified of meds, a plan can fall apart quickly. It can be something as fast and simple as a news blurb. “Taking Ativan? You won’t want to miss this at 6.”
That’s it. I’m done. I won’t take it.
Someone who hadn’t fallen off of the normal wagon can’t comprehend my plight. You’ve never been to the edge of crazytown. You don’t know the amount of fear and torment I face just by having a day off.
A day off used to be pure joy. A full two or God bless, three days off was cause for celebration. I was in bliss.
Now, its torment. It’s unscheduled time for my mind to pick at the fear wound.
Odd since work also causes me torment.
Think about that. I have hell at work, I have hell at home.
Where do you relax?
I have varying degrees of torment. The Director is out of town, no games going on, no daggers to remove from my spine, I can relax a minute. Maybe even enjoy my job a little while.
Then I go home and fear death.
The Director returns to work, I wait for the next assault, amped up and trying to step cautiously as you never know where she has placed the next landmine.
I go home and fear death.
Once in a great while I am able to not fear death, but mostly, I do. Well, its a give and take really. There are times I’m terrified and begging God to please give me my life back while other times, I beg Him to just let me go because I can’t live like this any more.
Ultimately, I age daily. Yes, I know, we all do. But I LOOK like I’m aging. More grey hair. My eyes look worried. Wrinkles have set in. I look worn out because……I am.
So, its 8:18 on Sunday morning and I just took another quarter of an Ativan because even at this hour, I’m already fretting. Already fearful. Already jumping head first into torment.
It’s too bad really. Just about a year 1/2 ago, I was counting my blessings. I couldn’t believe the life I had. I was grateful that I was able to provide for my family and still do my own training. I was starting to see signs (in retrospect) that the Director, then District, was likely doing things that I didn’t fully understand but wasn’t ready to assign reality to yet. I started being worried about losing my job. I started feeling down. But, I kept pushing because there was no solid evidence.
My worry continued to eat at me while the District (now Director) would tell me how much people didn’t like me. How I set people the wrong way. How she was ghetto only one that “Got” me, but not to worry. She was always looking out for my best interests.
I felt grateful that she was on my side, while at the same time distraught that I was so despised and didn’t understand why. I did my job. I was honest, I was helpful…yet, hated.
I didn’t understand it.
Now, I guess I do. She was busy weaving lies about me while telling me she was my savior.
It’s dizzying to consider that someone could be so….I don’t know the word….not quite Evil…because I don’t think she is, but…..maybe, manipulative….at minimum.
It’s stunning to think someone would want to be like that. Do those things. I just don’t understand
So, as I lay here waiting for the terror to quiet to simple agony or despair, I know I have to leave this job in order to save my life.
It doesn’t seem fair. I treat people well. Do my job. Extend a helping hand any time needed, yet, I’m the one that has to leave.
There is a perfect picture of the state of our world. Our culture.
The bad people advance while the good ones give up and go away.