I've posted before that I am a diagnosed Agoraphobic. Actually, the official diagnosis is "Agoraphobia with Panic Disorder." Subsequently, I am also diagnosed with Cyclothymic Disorder, which is a low-cycling, less severe form of Bi-Polar Disorder. I take several medications to keep the symptoms of both disorders in check....since I also have a seizure disorder, the seizure medication I take also treats the Cyclothymic disorder. Otherwise, I would be taking 8-9 different medications instead of 6. Six is enough, believe me.
My agoraphobic manifested in about 2006, when my grandmother's dementia became so severe that she need daily care. It was also concurrent with the beginning of the "mystery" ailment that wasn't actually diagnosed until 2009 (I don't like to discuss that in depth, but it is what my seizure disorder stems from). Grandma's care only became more intense, and the treatment I received once my illness was diagnosed made me so sick that I hardly left the house at all. Now....there are a lot of misconceptions that agoraphobia means people cannot leave their homes. That may be true for some sufferers, but really the problem is entering situations/places that cause panic - in my case, new/foreign places, and being around people I don't know. My home became my "safe zone," so I came to a point where I avoided the situations that triggered panic, and soothed myself in my safe zone. This continued until I was afraid to even enter grocery stores. I felt horrible about myself and my lack of control over the panic.
Through a series of positive opportunities, I entered therapy in June of 2011. Through my therapist's guidance and adjustment of the medications, I found myself less and less panicked by new situations and new people. I got out more, and even ventured into new places. I was encouraged by the progress, and found myself looking forward to my therapy sessions every week.
Thanksgiving 2011 was a turning point. Grandma cut me out of her life, so I decided to move on with mine and made the plans to move to Alaska to be with Richard. While the change was scary, I handled it fairly well - I even let go of all my possessions fairly easily. With the teenager, 4 suitcases, 2 duffel bags, 2 laptop bags, and 3 boxes, I boarded a plane and left everything and everyone behind.
I did okay the first few days in Alaska. I met my love's family, ventured into stores and businesses, and adapted to my new life fairly easily. The difference, though, is that Richard was always with me.
Yesterday, Richard dropped me off at Faith's school to register her as a new student. The first trigger hit - he wasn't sure where to go, so he spotted a door and let us out there so he could get to work. Alone (although with Faith, I still felt alone), unsure of my surroundings, and with streams of teenagers moving around me, I had a major anxiety attack. Once we finally found the office I stabilized, but the damage was done. I was scared and unable to reason with myself that I was okay. Faith wasn't able to start school without an extra immunization (not required in the state of Oregon, apparently), so we left. Not driving meant I had to call a cab, and thankfully the driver knew our address and was able to take us back without me having to help.
At lunch, Richard picked us up and we headed to the native medical center for my doctor's appointment. This time, I directed him to a familiar door, and I was able to find the office okay. When the doctor came in, though, I was having such a bad anxiety attack that she called a counselor in to talk to me (and gave me a strong valium). After the appointment, I had to register Faith as a patient so she could get her shot, and that was another mess....they had a rush of new patients after the new year, so they couldn't get her entered right away. We ate lunch so I could calm down a bit more and let the valium do its job, and then called another cab to go home. This driver, unfortunately, did not know how to get to our address, so we had to try to help him. I was nearly in tears by the time we finally found the condo, and it was all I could do to get inside and close the door. I made it through dinner (albeit Chinese delivery, rather than home-cooked), but ended up shutting down and napping for 2 hours. Between being sick and being so panicked all day, I had to shut down and regroup.
I'm working on getting back into therapy here, but it can take a while. In the meantime, I'm going to have to find a way to manage the panic so it doesn't affect me so profoundly. I'm trying to convince myself that yesterday was just a minor setback, but it doesn't feel so minor. My mantra is "tomorrow is another day." So, with that in mind, I will approach tomorrow with a new attitude. Today is for healing. And writing a very long-winded blog about being agoraphobic.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Life Altering
So much has changed since my last entry.
I am now residing in Anchorage, Alaska. Fate stepped in and made it happen....there are a lot of circumstances surrounding the move, but it is all for the best and I am happy.
Most of you know that I've filled the role of my grandma's caretaker for quite a while. For the last 20 years, I've cared for her in some capacity....moral support, seeing her through many medical issues, taking care of her home, etc. Yes, she's helped me out immensely too, mostly financially....but her help came with a huge cost. She became mostly incapacitated around 2006, and since then I did all her cleaning, bill paying, doctor's appointments, pharmacy dealings, and grocery shopping. As dementia took more of a toll on her mental health, she became extremely emotionally abusive. The last two years have been absolute hell. She has said things to me and told family secrets that hurt desperately. I'm convinced that if I hadn't had to endure that abuse, I could have handled my own mental health issues much better.
When I met Richard, we fell in love very quickly. I knew from the first few times we spoke that I wanted to spend my life with him. He asked me to move to Alaska within a month. Originally, we planned for quite a few months in the future....but that changed when grandma basically flipped her wig.
Unbeknownst to me, a distant cousin had been communicating with grandma on the sly and planting ideas in her head that I was taking advantage of her and not caring for her well enough. In her demented state, grandma believed her and the two of them planned to remove me from grandma's care and as executor of her estate. Thanksgiving day, she broke the news that she would no longer be helping me financially, and that this cousin would be moving there to care for her. This was all I needed to decide to move to Alaska and be with Richard. Faith backed up the decision....she was also tired of the abuse at grandma's hands.
So....we left. She has no idea where we are, and that is for the best....When I moved away in 2000 to try to get away from her, she followed me within a year. Now that she has a caretaker and cut me off so rudely, I see no reason to let her know where we are. We need to move on with our lives, and I want my relationship with Richard to be successful. He is an amazing man, and I love him more than I've ever loved anyone (besides Faith, of course).
As I sit here and type, a soft snow is falling, adding to the foot+ that is already on the ground. I am safe and warm and comfortable in a beautiful condo, with everything I need provided for me. You all know how independent I am, but it's nice to know I can rebuild our lives without having to suffer as before. My life is so full of happiness right now that it almost feels surreal.
I am now residing in Anchorage, Alaska. Fate stepped in and made it happen....there are a lot of circumstances surrounding the move, but it is all for the best and I am happy.
Most of you know that I've filled the role of my grandma's caretaker for quite a while. For the last 20 years, I've cared for her in some capacity....moral support, seeing her through many medical issues, taking care of her home, etc. Yes, she's helped me out immensely too, mostly financially....but her help came with a huge cost. She became mostly incapacitated around 2006, and since then I did all her cleaning, bill paying, doctor's appointments, pharmacy dealings, and grocery shopping. As dementia took more of a toll on her mental health, she became extremely emotionally abusive. The last two years have been absolute hell. She has said things to me and told family secrets that hurt desperately. I'm convinced that if I hadn't had to endure that abuse, I could have handled my own mental health issues much better.
When I met Richard, we fell in love very quickly. I knew from the first few times we spoke that I wanted to spend my life with him. He asked me to move to Alaska within a month. Originally, we planned for quite a few months in the future....but that changed when grandma basically flipped her wig.
Unbeknownst to me, a distant cousin had been communicating with grandma on the sly and planting ideas in her head that I was taking advantage of her and not caring for her well enough. In her demented state, grandma believed her and the two of them planned to remove me from grandma's care and as executor of her estate. Thanksgiving day, she broke the news that she would no longer be helping me financially, and that this cousin would be moving there to care for her. This was all I needed to decide to move to Alaska and be with Richard. Faith backed up the decision....she was also tired of the abuse at grandma's hands.
So....we left. She has no idea where we are, and that is for the best....When I moved away in 2000 to try to get away from her, she followed me within a year. Now that she has a caretaker and cut me off so rudely, I see no reason to let her know where we are. We need to move on with our lives, and I want my relationship with Richard to be successful. He is an amazing man, and I love him more than I've ever loved anyone (besides Faith, of course).
As I sit here and type, a soft snow is falling, adding to the foot+ that is already on the ground. I am safe and warm and comfortable in a beautiful condo, with everything I need provided for me. You all know how independent I am, but it's nice to know I can rebuild our lives without having to suffer as before. My life is so full of happiness right now that it almost feels surreal.
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Cost Splitting
Every month, I get a prescription for Lexapro; one of the higher-priced SSRI antidepressants. My doctor prescribes 20 mg tablets, and I'm to take 1/2 a tablet daily. Puzzling, right? Why not one whole 10 mg tablet once daily?Well, here's the thing. A 30-count bottle of 10 mg Lexapro retails for roughly $125. A 30-count bottle of 20 mg Lexapro is the same price, but lasts 60 days instead of 30. So, obviously the larger dose prescribed at 1/2 the strength makes more sense, right?
Sure, if you're thinking from a financial standpoint only. It is impossible for the manufacturer to distribute the medication equally between two halves of a tablet. So, cutting a pill in half means your dose will be unstable. In a medication like Lexapro, that means I will receive inconsistent relief from my symptoms of anxiety and depression. In a medication that helps regulate your heart rate or blood pressure, it could be much more serious.
I've tried several types of cutters with very little success. They either crumble the pill, or cut them in uneven pieces. The best option I've found so far is a plain razorblade - I set it exactly on the cutting line and rock the blade back and forth while exerting more and more pressure until it breaks through. It still creates powdery residue, and there's still the potential for uneven sizes. I just cut this month's supply, and several came out with broken pieces. It's very frustrating.
I'm going to request that my doctor prescribe the 10 mg tablets from now on and deal with the cost. Inconsistent doses and frustration over cutting the pills isn't worth the money saved, IMHO.
Friday, November 25, 2011
What is Tradition?
For the first time in 19 years, I didn't do "the big dinner" on Thanksgiving. I don't intend to do the big Christmas dinner, either. I just don't have it in me to do them right now. We had a Thanksgiving-style dinner, but it wasn't *my* cooking. It's not just that I'm a good cook (which I am)....it's that the tradition wasn't there.
As a child, we didn't have many family events. Mom and I were pretty solitary before she met my stepdad; even then his family was fairly small. We still had "the big dinner" though, and the ritual was always so soothing.
Thanksgiving morning began with a fairly early breakfast; usually pancakes and sausage or something similar. Then, the women would start cooking. Turkey, stuffing, ham, potatoes, several veggies, salads, deviled eggs, trays of olives and pickles, rolls, and pies. Our dining room held a table that seated 10, a buffet, and a sideboard. Every surface that could hold food did, plus some left in the kitchen. The table was meticulously set with china and silver, cloth napkins, and all the good serving pieces. The big coffee urn was filled, sodas set out, pitchers of iced tea, milk, and juice joined them on the sideboard. Then, everyone gathered and found their seats. The children were seated at a small table in the kitchen, while the adults sat around the table. Then began the prayer of thanks, followed by the ritual of carving the turkey and passing dish after dish around the table. Plates were loaded for us kids and brought to our table. The food itself really has no memory for me (except the creamed onions - oh how I love them), but the spirit of the meal does.
After everyone had eaten their share, the kids were sent to the family room while the grown ups cleaned up. This was before every household had TV with a million channels, so we likely watched a Christmas movie on one of the few channels we received, or we laid on the floor in a stuffed stupor. Once the kitchen was clean and the dining room re-assembled, we would play fun games together like Charades and such. There was such a feeling of joy and togetherness that I relished the holidays.
I've tried over the years to preserve that tradition. I've done what I could to make each year's holiday as festive as those I remembered from the past. I've spent as much as 8 hours in the kitchen at a time, toiling over pots and pans and fretting about how I would keep everything hot at once.
With the stress of grandma's issues and the tight budget we are living on, I had no desire to put the effort into the tradition this year. My therapist challenged me when I told her I had decided not to do it and asked if I thought I was depriving Faith of a memorable experience. Honestly, with what we have gone through recently, I don't think I am. I know in my heart that next year will be amazing and new traditions will be started....but this year, my heart isn't in it.
As a child, we didn't have many family events. Mom and I were pretty solitary before she met my stepdad; even then his family was fairly small. We still had "the big dinner" though, and the ritual was always so soothing.
Thanksgiving morning began with a fairly early breakfast; usually pancakes and sausage or something similar. Then, the women would start cooking. Turkey, stuffing, ham, potatoes, several veggies, salads, deviled eggs, trays of olives and pickles, rolls, and pies. Our dining room held a table that seated 10, a buffet, and a sideboard. Every surface that could hold food did, plus some left in the kitchen. The table was meticulously set with china and silver, cloth napkins, and all the good serving pieces. The big coffee urn was filled, sodas set out, pitchers of iced tea, milk, and juice joined them on the sideboard. Then, everyone gathered and found their seats. The children were seated at a small table in the kitchen, while the adults sat around the table. Then began the prayer of thanks, followed by the ritual of carving the turkey and passing dish after dish around the table. Plates were loaded for us kids and brought to our table. The food itself really has no memory for me (except the creamed onions - oh how I love them), but the spirit of the meal does.
After everyone had eaten their share, the kids were sent to the family room while the grown ups cleaned up. This was before every household had TV with a million channels, so we likely watched a Christmas movie on one of the few channels we received, or we laid on the floor in a stuffed stupor. Once the kitchen was clean and the dining room re-assembled, we would play fun games together like Charades and such. There was such a feeling of joy and togetherness that I relished the holidays.
I've tried over the years to preserve that tradition. I've done what I could to make each year's holiday as festive as those I remembered from the past. I've spent as much as 8 hours in the kitchen at a time, toiling over pots and pans and fretting about how I would keep everything hot at once.
With the stress of grandma's issues and the tight budget we are living on, I had no desire to put the effort into the tradition this year. My therapist challenged me when I told her I had decided not to do it and asked if I thought I was depriving Faith of a memorable experience. Honestly, with what we have gone through recently, I don't think I am. I know in my heart that next year will be amazing and new traditions will be started....but this year, my heart isn't in it.
Monday, November 21, 2011
Just What Is Wrong With You Anyway?
I have new readers here on the blog, and a few new Facebook friends who have expressed interest in knowing why I'm in therapy and what my medical problems are. Usually I'm not so open about these things, but it's best to lay everything out on the table, right?
I'll address the medical first since it's easiest. About two years ago, I started having seizures and massive memory loss. I was unable to even go to work for weeks at a time because I could hardly function. The seizures (grand mal) became more and more frequent and my doctors frantically scrabbled for a reason. I had CAT scans, blood panels, MRIs....with no resolution. It wasn't until the MRI company accidentally scanned the wrong area of my brain that they found the reason for the issues...they discovered AVM lesions in a deep area of my brain. Thankfully, they were small, but surgery would have had a poor outcome and carried a large risk of death. The neurologist thought chemotherapy would be successful, so I underwent a short course in Medford. Thankfully, it was mild enough that I only lost a small bit of my hair; but the mouth sores, constant vomiting, fatigue, and serious dehydration took a huge toll on me. It was about six months before I felt better again, and my memory improved greatly. The seizures got somewhat better, but I was still experiencing grand mals. As a result, I went through several different seizure drugs, and I'm still on a trial with my current medication. While controlled, I still have absence seizures and occasional eyelid seizures. My body is on the road to recovery from the illness and the chemo, however slowly. Unfortunately, I lost a lot during my battle....my job, many friends, and my longtime relationship. I came to realize that they weren't worth keeping if they were that easy to lose.
As far as the mental issues, well....they are more complicated. My actual diagnosis is:
All three are treatable, and I take medication in addition to the therapy I participate in weekly (well, when I get the scheduling down anyway). So far, the agoraphobia has been the easiest to treat, although I still have issues in crowded situations. By no means am I unable to leave my house, I want that to be clear....however, my home is my "safe" zone and it's nearly impossible to allow people inside. I hope to have overcome that with EMDR when I'm finished with that therapy. The other two issues are controlled with medication and can be cured with EMDR as well.
I have been in therapy before, but never found resolution. The therapy I participate in now is much more aggressive and targeted to an actual diagnosis. My hopes are high for success.
What does this mean? What kind of person am I? Easy to answer. I'm a person with a life-long illness that can eventually become more serious. I have a treatment plan in place, and intend to fight with everything I have to stay healthy and well. I am also a person who has mental illness that is managed and being treated.
Most importantly, I am a loving mother to my daughter. I am a person who is blessed with friends who love her, despite experiencing issues with my disorders. I am a woman who loves the man in her life completely and will do everything in her power to ensure he will be happy. I strive to protect those I love from experiencing the negative side effects of the above issues. I am caring, nurturing, and loving. My joy in life is giving others happiness. I am not a whole person, obviously, but eventually I will be.
I hope that gives you all some perspective. Life is worth living, no matter what obstacles we encounter. My life from this point on will be spent finding happiness. I'm so lucky to have it within my grasp.
I'll address the medical first since it's easiest. About two years ago, I started having seizures and massive memory loss. I was unable to even go to work for weeks at a time because I could hardly function. The seizures (grand mal) became more and more frequent and my doctors frantically scrabbled for a reason. I had CAT scans, blood panels, MRIs....with no resolution. It wasn't until the MRI company accidentally scanned the wrong area of my brain that they found the reason for the issues...they discovered AVM lesions in a deep area of my brain. Thankfully, they were small, but surgery would have had a poor outcome and carried a large risk of death. The neurologist thought chemotherapy would be successful, so I underwent a short course in Medford. Thankfully, it was mild enough that I only lost a small bit of my hair; but the mouth sores, constant vomiting, fatigue, and serious dehydration took a huge toll on me. It was about six months before I felt better again, and my memory improved greatly. The seizures got somewhat better, but I was still experiencing grand mals. As a result, I went through several different seizure drugs, and I'm still on a trial with my current medication. While controlled, I still have absence seizures and occasional eyelid seizures. My body is on the road to recovery from the illness and the chemo, however slowly. Unfortunately, I lost a lot during my battle....my job, many friends, and my longtime relationship. I came to realize that they weren't worth keeping if they were that easy to lose.
As far as the mental issues, well....they are more complicated. My actual diagnosis is:
- Cyclothymic Disorder
- Severe Anxiety
- Agoraphobia with Panic Disorder
All three are treatable, and I take medication in addition to the therapy I participate in weekly (well, when I get the scheduling down anyway). So far, the agoraphobia has been the easiest to treat, although I still have issues in crowded situations. By no means am I unable to leave my house, I want that to be clear....however, my home is my "safe" zone and it's nearly impossible to allow people inside. I hope to have overcome that with EMDR when I'm finished with that therapy. The other two issues are controlled with medication and can be cured with EMDR as well.
I have been in therapy before, but never found resolution. The therapy I participate in now is much more aggressive and targeted to an actual diagnosis. My hopes are high for success.
What does this mean? What kind of person am I? Easy to answer. I'm a person with a life-long illness that can eventually become more serious. I have a treatment plan in place, and intend to fight with everything I have to stay healthy and well. I am also a person who has mental illness that is managed and being treated.
Most importantly, I am a loving mother to my daughter. I am a person who is blessed with friends who love her, despite experiencing issues with my disorders. I am a woman who loves the man in her life completely and will do everything in her power to ensure he will be happy. I strive to protect those I love from experiencing the negative side effects of the above issues. I am caring, nurturing, and loving. My joy in life is giving others happiness. I am not a whole person, obviously, but eventually I will be.
I hope that gives you all some perspective. Life is worth living, no matter what obstacles we encounter. My life from this point on will be spent finding happiness. I'm so lucky to have it within my grasp.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)