inosantoclaws
03-27-2012, 05:58 PM
here is an article I wrote a few days ago. blogging is keeping my mind active.
Welcome To My Nightmare
Hello. And welcome. It’s not so easy to let you in. I have spent a lot of time on the internet, but not so much posting. A couple of years ago, when I discovered that facebook and email was the key to not having to use telephones, the internet became something of a lifeline. Maybe literally.
I guess I am an agoraphobe. This is something that I never really self-identified with until about a week ago. I suppose I should have known. Telephones and knocks on the door send sudders down my spine and send me running to the basement to hide. I would be invited to parties and sit alone in another room with a guitar. What a weirdo. I am almost 30, and I suppose I have suffered from depression and anxiety my whole life. Last week was my first contact with a doctor. One who would listen anyway.
I had been to walk-in clinics a number of times over the years. The problem is, if I was healthy enough to go to the walk-in, then I wasn’t showing any symptoms, and I was sure they would think I was lying. So I would wait until I had another problem to deal with. A hurt ankle, or a sore throat. At the end of the visit I would say, “I also have a problem with anxiety,” and they would tell me that I looked fine, and only one problem allowed per visit.
I live in Canada, where health care is “free”. Problem is, it’s almost impossible to find a decent family doctor who will see you. The first step is to call the physicians hotline and wait to see if a doctor is accepting new patients, and then wait for them too call. Or not call. Luckily, I had a doctor in the family who spoke to a friend of his and got me hooked up with her. I am a male, and would prefer a male doctor, but really I just wanted somebody who would listen. And she did.
She had to get extra sheets of paper to write out my history and symptoms. I missed about 4 months of 6th grade, because I couldn’t take being in the room with the other children. I never graduated high school, I wandered the halls looking for some space where I could sit alone until the next class started. Until I stopped going altogether. I lived with friends for awhile in my early twenties when I was playing in a punk band. I would wait outside drinking until we went onstage, and as soon as we were done I rushed straight out the door while people laughed at the weirdo that I was. The last three or four months I lived with them, we had no contact and I stayed in the basement, behind the heater, only coming out for food and to ask family for money. I swallowed a bunch a pills once, not sure if I wanted to die, or just get help. I was in the hallway of the hospital alone for a long time. Not sure how long, I was too messed up from the pills. When the psyche nurse, finally came, I went running.
My father helped me start going to martial arts classes, which is both a joy and a torture. I would go in the afternoon when the classes were small and with people that I knew were safe. Real good people. Some times I would go and drive right by. Showing up five minutes late, and leaving five minutes early helped me avoid the worst of it. I eventually earned a brown belt in brazillian jiu jitsu, and have competed in both Brazil and Abu Dhabi, believe it or not. Physical opponents are so much easier to fight that the demons.
I have worked 12-15 hours a week in a pizza place since then. Pretty much put all my lifes ambitions on hold. I wanted to be a musician, a writer, and a filmmaker. But the crippling depression and anxiety stopped everything. A panic attack, for those of you who don’t know, is the feeling of death coming over you, slowly, then stronger until you are physically and mentally crippled. The sadism of a panicking death, is that it keeps you alive to feel it.
the other half is here if you are interested, or I can just post it next time
http://agoraphobicdiaries.wordpress.com/2012/03/26/hello-world/
Welcome To My Nightmare
Hello. And welcome. It’s not so easy to let you in. I have spent a lot of time on the internet, but not so much posting. A couple of years ago, when I discovered that facebook and email was the key to not having to use telephones, the internet became something of a lifeline. Maybe literally.
I guess I am an agoraphobe. This is something that I never really self-identified with until about a week ago. I suppose I should have known. Telephones and knocks on the door send sudders down my spine and send me running to the basement to hide. I would be invited to parties and sit alone in another room with a guitar. What a weirdo. I am almost 30, and I suppose I have suffered from depression and anxiety my whole life. Last week was my first contact with a doctor. One who would listen anyway.
I had been to walk-in clinics a number of times over the years. The problem is, if I was healthy enough to go to the walk-in, then I wasn’t showing any symptoms, and I was sure they would think I was lying. So I would wait until I had another problem to deal with. A hurt ankle, or a sore throat. At the end of the visit I would say, “I also have a problem with anxiety,” and they would tell me that I looked fine, and only one problem allowed per visit.
I live in Canada, where health care is “free”. Problem is, it’s almost impossible to find a decent family doctor who will see you. The first step is to call the physicians hotline and wait to see if a doctor is accepting new patients, and then wait for them too call. Or not call. Luckily, I had a doctor in the family who spoke to a friend of his and got me hooked up with her. I am a male, and would prefer a male doctor, but really I just wanted somebody who would listen. And she did.
She had to get extra sheets of paper to write out my history and symptoms. I missed about 4 months of 6th grade, because I couldn’t take being in the room with the other children. I never graduated high school, I wandered the halls looking for some space where I could sit alone until the next class started. Until I stopped going altogether. I lived with friends for awhile in my early twenties when I was playing in a punk band. I would wait outside drinking until we went onstage, and as soon as we were done I rushed straight out the door while people laughed at the weirdo that I was. The last three or four months I lived with them, we had no contact and I stayed in the basement, behind the heater, only coming out for food and to ask family for money. I swallowed a bunch a pills once, not sure if I wanted to die, or just get help. I was in the hallway of the hospital alone for a long time. Not sure how long, I was too messed up from the pills. When the psyche nurse, finally came, I went running.
My father helped me start going to martial arts classes, which is both a joy and a torture. I would go in the afternoon when the classes were small and with people that I knew were safe. Real good people. Some times I would go and drive right by. Showing up five minutes late, and leaving five minutes early helped me avoid the worst of it. I eventually earned a brown belt in brazillian jiu jitsu, and have competed in both Brazil and Abu Dhabi, believe it or not. Physical opponents are so much easier to fight that the demons.
I have worked 12-15 hours a week in a pizza place since then. Pretty much put all my lifes ambitions on hold. I wanted to be a musician, a writer, and a filmmaker. But the crippling depression and anxiety stopped everything. A panic attack, for those of you who don’t know, is the feeling of death coming over you, slowly, then stronger until you are physically and mentally crippled. The sadism of a panicking death, is that it keeps you alive to feel it.
the other half is here if you are interested, or I can just post it next time
http://agoraphobicdiaries.wordpress.com/2012/03/26/hello-world/