Smack Dab In The Middle

Your chest is tight, your mind is racing, you fingers are flying like frightened ducks from a lake. This is the middle of an attack, folks, and none of us like it here. Some of the worst feelings in the world are self inflicted and being right here right now is just about the most crippling feeling in the world.

I feel like I can relate to quadrapelegics with total sanity but loss of physical capabilities. I’ve got full control over my body, my brain however, is pleading with me “More, it says. Give me more!” I can’t do it though, enough is absolutely enough. I’m at work but I cannot work. I see piles of awesome projects to do but my body stays paralized in a one track mind mentality.

I.

Can’t.

Think.

I’ve got brains, and some would even say I’m somewhat intelligent, but when I feel an “episode” coming on I’m useless. For me, it’s not a comfort thing anymore. I don’t reach for a comfort because I feel uncomfortable.

I.

Feel.

Helpless.

Beyond all that nonsense and worrying about the likelihood of losing all contact with what reality is and what I love about life, I realize this is chemical. I know it’s chemical because for once in my life .

I.

Don’t.

Care.

Those things that really hung me up before, money, relationships, fame, all that jazz means nothing to me now. All of the priorities that I had prior are kaput. Life isn’t about what’s on the next plate of food (unless you’re genuinely starving), or about how exotic your furniture is. Life is about living, and I’m really loving this living business, but every once in a while that monster jumps up and gobbles me up for no good reason.

It.

Just.

Happens.

It wouldn’t be such a big deal had I not pondered on it the entire way home last night. I’ve quit drinking, although everybody was really doubtful and worried that I couldn’t do it, I did. I have no physical desire to drink and I certainly don’t have any mental reason to want to either. The high risk choices that came from that party animal in me were destroying me, and life was a struggle, but self inflicted. I chose to put those drinks in my hand. I chose to put those pills in my mouth and although it doesn’t really seem right, I chose to wreck my car. All of those things are circumstances in which I made a decision, a conscience one at that, and had to deal with the outcome.

This.

Is.

Different.

I can’t help it, and although self help books claim that meditation, therapy, recovery houses and all that jazz are what will keep you clean it’s not true. I’m going to go as far as to say when an episode hits it might as well be a grand mal seizure. The tense muscles, the jerking, the compulsiveness. All of these just erupt from nowhere. Case in point was today, I was happily working on my project (my favorite project around the nursery all year) and all of a sudden it was almost like there was a switch that was flippped and my brain started sending out these ridiculous surges of dopamine. I was all bound up in my entire brain but didn’t want to be. Just as an epileptic has an “aura” before having an episode, I suppose these random disordered outbursts also have “auras”.

I.

Experienced.

One.

It always starts with simply checking to see what time it is. This will become very aggravating because you’ll find yourself checking every thirty seconds to see if something has happened and time has stood still. I always get into almost a panic mode while out and about and feel that I absolutely NEED to have my phone within grasp at all times. I’ll sometimes just keep the screen on so that I can just look at it and see what time it is. This morning I swear it was 10:30 for almost three hours. I had graduated from my ADSAP class and was on top of the world, but was stuck. The clock was stuck, I was stuck. I kept checking and checking, the time slowly advanced and I thought I was going to collapse.

Moving on from there, it always evolves into me going back and forth from one place to another, not quite understanding what I’m supposed to be doing. This is especially tricky when there isn’t anything to do, but it gets downright dangerous when that starts and you actually have things you need to do. Like me today, I know I had so much work to do around here it isn’t even funny, but my brain has gone into lock mode.

It.

Won’t.

Restart.

Then comes the haze that washes over you, the same as a seizure, you’re absent, confused, and unable to control exactly what you’re doing. I kid you not, I feel like there have been strings attached to my limbs at times and my arms are moving just because somebody else is pulling them. I do what I can, but it usually is of poor outcome and quite embarrassing. I push myself a little harder to catch myself from falling but it’s no use. My brain has jumped out of the plane without it’s parachute again and all I can do is wait for the rough impact.

It.

Gets.

Easier.

After accepting the fact that these eating disordered “episodes” aren’t me being a nut case, that they are in fact associated with my brain, I feel better, but also a little saddened. I can’t control my brain, the drugs aren’t working, and I shouldn’t really be stressed about anything. I plead with my brain to “chill the fuck out” but unless it’s good and ready I might as well have a seat and wait this one out. Kind of like a panic attack, or, well, a seizure. Yes. A seizure. I’m still going to be dry, and I’m still going to be iffy in certain circumstances socially. Isn’t everyone?

I give thanks to those that actually read this shit and care. You know who you are, and if you don’t think it’s you – you should believe in yourself more.

We are all loved.

Yes, I have a teddy bear and a backpack sprayer box for a night stand. I used to have it all, now I I have what's important - my sanitiy.

Yes, I have a teddy bear and a backpack sprayer box for a night stand. I used to have it all, now I I have what’s important – my sanitiy.

 

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2 thoughts on “Smack Dab In The Middle

  1. When I read some of your blogs – this one especially – I feel like I’m a passenger in the back seat of car traveling at high speed and almost (keyword) out of control. I just keep telling myself, “She’s really a good driver and we’ll get there safely. It’s going to be all right.” And, I really think it will be all right. You keep hanging in there.

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