At least I'm moving though.... right?
The head shrink got me on some meds that seem to be working. Even she had a difficult time when she realized I'm allergic to anti-depressants, hence happiness. I can say I'm less anxious. Do shadows still make me jump? Hell yes. I just don't jump as often as I once did. I felt I moved forward a little when I put out my American flag this past weekend. The shadow of it didn't make me jump all day long.
The meds are also helping me sleep. I've had some crazy dreams but the most disturbing dreams are the ones I can't remember. I know it's an oxymoron and totally true. This last Saturday morning I woke up in the throws of an anxiety attack. An elephant sat on my chest while a circus strong man choked me out. The weight of them, and the pressure wouldn't leave. I tried to lose myself in a book... failing brilliantly. Taking a page from another PTSD survivor I tried to do some artwork. I've done a few pages of art over the last couple weeks and it seems to help calm me down. Perchance it's because I'm refocusing the brain? Anyway, I came up with a self portrait (I'll show it in the next post.) The portrait shows a fractured and chaotic me. While drawing my husband made me a sandwich, the choking feeling was so strong I had to take an anti-anxeity med to eat. I HATE TAKING MEDS. I did feel relief until it wore off, and then I just went to bed early.
I felt week and helpless all day. Taking meds makes me feel weaker still. My mind betrayed me. Whatever I dreamt that night haunted me all day. How am I supposed to deal with something I don't even remember? It's all so very frustrating.
Here's to the roll of the tide in all of it's beauty and frustration.
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