Hysteria is scaria

Sometimes the disease gets me, and sometimes it’s the depression. Today my anxiety roared out of control. Although I didn’t have a full blown anxiety attack, I went through an episode that would have caused a sane person to shiver. I was unloading boxes with my husband and he was trying to steer me to do the things he wanted done, rather than work on what I was trying to get done. I gradually began to feel anxious and got irritable. As the anxiety spread, I had to hold back the urge to scream loudly through clinched teeth. Finally he went to the other room, but it was already too late, I was in full blown mode. I couldn’t gain my composure and began to cry, feeling afraid of myself and my ability to keep things together. I tried to shake it off by continuing to work on the unpacking project, but it didn’t work. By this time I was feeling like I had cheated my husband … that he did not deserve to have been brought into a marriage with someone who was losing their mind. I decided to lie down and walked by the office door to tell him that I was going to rest for awhile. On one hand I didn’t want him to see me crying, on the other hand, I really needed him to comfort me. He barely glanced at me, as he said, “OK” to my statement I was going to lie down. I knew I needed something from him. I went back to the door and said “Can I talk to you?”

He came into the bedroom and I tried to tell him what was going on inside my head, but it was too confusing for even me. I just told him that I never thought I’d turn out this way, that I didn’t want to hurt him with my sickness, that I didn’t know what to do and that I was worried I was never going to get better. If all of this sounds hysterical (and not in a funny way), it was. But not nearly as hysterical as it got. At one point, he said “It’s going to be OK, just climb into bed and take a nap,” and I went absolutely berserk. I began screaming and crying at the same time saying that going to bed was not going to solve the problem, that nobody understood that there was something wrong with me, that I was scared I was never going to get better. This is the second time this year that he has had to witness one of these attacks and I feel so badly for him. I do sincerely feel sorry for him that he got wrapped up with someone with the emotional problems I face. I know it cannot be easy.

Of course, I am focusing my attention on him, because I have no idea how to even begin to sort out what was going on with me. If it’s not simply being crazy, I’m not sure what it is. It’s humiliating, demoralizing, and downright scary when you simply lose control of everything – when you want to throw all your dishes through the front window and when you start crying and screaming like a child until you lose your breath.

I had a message on my answering machine yesterday from my dad asking that I call him. He doesn’t really want anything except for me to act as if there’s nothing wrong. I haven’t called him yet. I can’t let go of the thought that the call is going unreturned, but I can’t even begin to make myself call either. I feel numb, paralyzed – not mad, but unable to lie anymore. Some days I feel as if life is falling apart. For a few hours today, that’s what I thought again. I’m feeling better now. I hope it lasts for awhile.

Thanks for listening.