Anxiety is Ripping Me Up Inside
I don’t know how much more of this I can take
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If I never have another day of anxiety like I did today, I will be a happy man. From the moment I opened my eyes until I sit here now writing the story of my day from hell, I’ve been ripped apart inside by anxiety and fear.
Anxiety is nothing new to me, for as long as I can remember it has been a companion of mine through the good times and the bad. For every story I have of an event in my life, there has been an underlying feeling of fear and panic.
For the longest time, I thought I had it under some measure of control. I didn’t have the extreme panic attacks for a period of a few years, but recently, it has all come back, worse than ever.
I wasn’t even taking anything for it, until a few weeks ago, when my doctor told me to start taking my antidepressant Sertraline again because it would help with the anxiety.
News flash: it hasn’t.
No matter what I do, it is there. I worried my dogs were going to get out of our yard, and when the construction workers left our gate open, I almost lost my mind. When I picked up my daughter from school, it was raining, and I panicked because I thought she was going to slip down the stairs. When we leave the house — when we stay in I feel it. Before I eat, after I eat and get a cramp I feel it (I thought it was my heart again).
It doesn’t matter what I do, the fear is always there and I am always one step away from losing my shit.
Deep breathing doesn’t help, and neither does meditation. I try to distract myself, but the anxiety cuts through whatever smokescreen I put up. I’m having constant chest pain, and even though I know it’s from anxiety, my mind tells me that I am having another heart attack.
My wife can’t help me because her anxiety is just as bad as mine and she is dealing with her own problems. I can’t enjoy anything because it sucks the pleasure out of everything.
We took my kids to the pool last week because our power was out for a whole day (which happens a lot here in the Philippines). When we were there, I couldn’t have any fun because my mind was imagining all sorts of horrible things: kids drowning, baby pooping in the pool, slipping on the wet cement, and the people in the next kubo were staring at us.
No matter what I did, I couldn’t take a breath until we had left and I know it ruined all the fun for everyone. My daughter doesn’t say anything, but I know she wanted to stay.
The worst thing is that I am starting to see her exhibit anxiety herself, and I know it is due to the environment and her mom and I both suffering constantly. I don’t want her to have to deal with this shit just because we hurt and she thinks it’s normal.
I just don’t know what to do anymore. I know our doctor will just want to throw more medication at the problem, and therapy is an expensive option we can’t afford. If I was in the U.S., cannabis would be an option, but it is not allowed here. Even if it was, I am doubtful my wife would partake no matter what.
There just doesn’t seem to be any good options except for gritting my teeth and putting up with it, but I don’t know how much longer I can do that. By the end of the day, I am so exhausted, I fall into a nightmare-ridden sleep, and feel terrible when I wake the next morning. Not being able to rest is hurting me even more, but aside from medication, I have nothing else to do.
I don’t know who is going to break first, my wife or me. Every day is almost a contest to see who can have a panic attack first and it’s getting old. And our poor kids. They both need us to be present and well, especially my autistic son who has needs of his own. I feel like we are not always as effective as we can be and I hope it’s not hurting our kid’s childhood.
So, I’ll go to bed tonight with nightmares, and wake up feeling like I didn’t sleep at all, and the anxiety will gnaw at me and tear my insides out. I’ll do the best I can, but I fear my best is just not good enough anymore.
I don’t know what else to do.
