This is one of the hardest things for me to talk about. And I have gone back and forth on even sharing this... But when I started this blog I wanted to be nothing but real. And maybe just maybe my story could help someone else know they are not alone or a freak lol. That OCD with anxiety is a hard thing to live with. But nice to know your not alone. This is probably going to jump around some so please bare with me…. after all I'm not a journalist :)
For years I have battled with what I thought was a horrible anxiety problem. My anxiety started at the beginning of 2006. When its first started I was working at at little meat and 3. I loved that job. I remember just standing there and my heart started pounding, my chest started hurting and I felt like I was gonna collapse. I just knew I was having a heart attack. I didn't want to die, I remember saying that over and over again. I was rushed to a near by er where I was told I had a massive panic attack. I didn't at the time even really knew what that meant. They gave me a sedative and sent me on my mary little way. I tried going back to work a few days later. Again the same symptoms came on and I told the manager I needed to go home immediately but wouldn't tell him why, truth be told I was emberessed and scared . He told me that if I left, not to return. So I ran out the door and home. I crawled in my bed and remember just thinking that was the end. I didn't leave that bed for almost two weeks other than to shoer when my dad made me. I lost over 30 pounds because I wouldn't eat. I would just cry and cry. In my head my bed was my safe haven. Nothing would happen to me if I stayed in that bed. It wasn't until almost 3 weeks later that my dad came into my room told me to get my ass up put on some clothes and get ready. i could just see the worry all over his face, so I did as he told me. He took me to get something to eat and then took us to our family doctor. That was when she told me I had a panic disorder. She never once asked me what I was doing at the time or anything she just wrote me a prescription for xanax and called it a day. The panic attacks didn't go away at first. I still couldn't sit in a theater without running out the door. I couldn't eat in a restaurant without half way through the meal going and sitting in the car. Thats when I called my doctor back and told her I didn't think the xanax was working. So instead of finding a better alternative she upped my dosage. I was officially a walking zombie. But I was finally able to go to a restaurant and eat or hang out with my friends. I was cured. or so I thought. I would still have panic attacks but they weren't as bad. I continued to take the xanax for five years. yes five years!! In those five years I switched doctors. I started going to another doctor who also needed his license removed just to get the xanax. I thought if I stopped taking it I would die. My anxiety circled around my unrealistic fear of dying.
See when I was a teenager, I never had a care in the world. I didn't care what Pilled I popped. Or how much drugs I did, I was LIVING life…. oh to be so young and so stupid. There where times I don't know how I got home. Or how I lived through some of the drug binges I went on. I would just laugh it off. Point blank. I JUST DIDNT CARE.
So when my anxiety and fear of dying started it confused the shit out of me. WHy did I care so much now? I was obsessed with it.
It wasn't until I got pregnant and told my doctor about it that he calmly replied we will just down your dosage while your pregnant that I realized I really had a true problem and a horrible doctor on my hands. So 8 weeks after I found out I was pregnant I detoxed myself off the meds. It was scary but I knew I had to do it for this sweet baby growing inside of me. Im not proud of the fact that that is what it took to get me off of it. But that really was an eye opener that not every doctor has your back. The detox went so smooth. There is no doubt in my mind that if I hadn't have stuck so hard to my faith and prayed my brains out that it wouldn't have gone like that. I was on the road to destruction before I got pregnant. I was so irritable the slightest thing would set me off into a tail spin. I couldn't control my emotions! And me and Chris could not stop fighting. We where crumbling fast…. a week later I found out I was pregnant. That is why I always call Jack my miracle baby. Because he was just that. He saved me from what was pretty close to being the end of me.
I had the best pregnancy a person could have. Me and Chris got along so well. Our bond had become unbreakable. It was like walking out of a cloud I had been in for so long. I never had one panic attack the whole time I was pregnant. It was the best 9 months of my life. Even after our sweet boy got here I didn't have a single panic attack. I did get a bout of depression the first month (we will touch on that when Im ready) but other than that it was smooth sailing.
In january of this year 2013 I took my ged and passed with flying colors. Before I would have never been able to sit through a 8 hour class without wanting to run out the door. I passed with flying colors and enrolled in college in Feb,25,2013. I was on top of the world. We where living in a different county, I was in school I never had a single issue until October when It all spiraled out of control.
The day before my pinning my tounge swelled as if I had an allergic reaction to something. I was in the hospital most of the night. They let me go just in time to get to school and get pinned (in front of a group of people). I could barely stand up their. When they called my name I thought I was gonna pass out. I just remember thinking A PANIC ATTACK now? you want to hit now? I ended up finishing the school year with a 4.0 and went on to my extern. My extern was rough I was out of my comfort zone and the girls at the office where nothing like the girls at school. The panic attacks just kept coming and coming. I would check my tongue in the mirror to make sure it hadn't swelled again. I was getting bruises on my neck from where I was checking my pulse so much. And I wasn't eating anything really for the fear I would have an allergic reaction to it. Once I finished my extern I thanked my lucky starts…. unfortantly they wherent so lucky. I hadn't filled my paper work out on my extern like I was suppose to. When I went to talk to the school. they weren't budging on it. So to them to clear up any confusion I would have to do my extern over again!!!! That was the last straw. I was shacking thinking about having to do it again.I had felt like a complete failure. How could this happen. I was doing this for my son. That was the start of rock bottom.
I became increasingly paranoid about everything I touched or ate. The panic attacks became alarmingly worse. We where in and out of the hospital and doctors offices because I was for sure I was dying!! I didn't want to die and leave my son. I wanted to watch him grow. It was so bad that I would call my husbands work crying my eyes out and he would have to leave and come home. His work eventually forced him onto a medical leave. I would no longer shower unless my husband was standing in the bathroom. I would only eat half a meal if I ate at all I dropped 35 pounds in a matter of weeks. I was exhausted, my husband was exhausted. I layed in my bedroom and thought would it be better if I wasn't here anymore. Wouldn't my husband and Jack be better off if they didn't have to deal with a crazy person. I literally felt nuts. I knew that wasn't the answer. I knew ow selfish that solution was but damn it I was tired. It wasn't until one more trip to the hospital that they called a person from the psych department into my room. I knew then that I was indeed a "mental case" . When she informed me that I wasn't crazy that I had a mental illness didn't help ease my mind much. To me, mental illness means shooting up schools, blowing up building. like hell was she gonna group me in that category. I realize now just how neieve the world is on mental illness. She told us that I could either be admitted and they could pill me up or go home and seek counseling. I was not going down the medicated road. I had fought a heard battle with that before like hell was I gonna go backwards. We finally found someone who would see me pretty quickly.
Walking into her room the first time I felt like such a loser. I couldn't believe it had got to this point. We walked a little. She asked a bunch of questions and I was honest with her. after about an hour out came the words that I never thought I would ever hear….
ASHLEY YOU HAVE OCD!
When she said it I actually laughed. See I'm not a clean freak. I wish I was but Im not. that what I though Ocd was. obsessive cleaning and washing hands ever 5 mins. Again nieve.
But the more I learned on it the more I understood.
I can not stand when someone touches my stuff. It sends me over the edge. o rid someone gets out of a seat and not push it up. I will eat the same food for a week straight. Listen to the same song 3 times in a row. but only 3.
And the big one…. I HAVE to be able to see my shoes. They can't be in boxes they have to be out where i can see them. I had always thought that this was normal but unfortanlty its not. I have other ones but we are getting side track
And the one that hurts… my obsessive need to be in control. I need to be in control of everything including my life. weather I live or die. When that gets thrown out of whack comes the horrible panic attacks. Its a vicious circle that for years went undiagnosed because the doctors I was seeing thought I was just out for the pills. When all I wanted was to feel normal. But Im not even sure what that means.
Like my counselor said. I have ocd mixed with post traumatic stress disorder. I have a mental illness that doesn't mean Im a freak. It doesn't mean Im gonna blow up my house. It just means that there has been shit that threw stuff off balance and I don't deal with it like the next person. I refused to do the pill thing. So instead I do a therapy session with her every week.
It has already made a huge difference. Im no longer afraid to be by myself. My husband is back at work and I know the difference between a panic attack and when Im not lol. I have changed my diet around to help out a little because my anxiety has caused me to have horrible reflux form all the acid in my stomach.
This has not been an easy road, for me or my family. I still have my bad days. But thankfully they aren't happening as much. I still stubble with crowds ad Just recently been able to go to a restaurant and sit and eat.
Its still a long road and Im still understanding my illness. But anyone dealing with this your not alone. And your not crazy. It can be painful. It can be so frustrating. But the fight is worth it in the end.
Until we meet again-ASH
