Last evening I was having a hard time sleeping. I finally fell asleep around 1am. At 4am, I woke up. I went to the bathroom and laid back down to go to sleep; but sleep didn’t happen.
Instead, I immediately went into a head spin of thoughts. Thoughts that had been building up from so many things these past several months. I was thinking about my teeth that are going to be pulled in one week. I thought about my family here and how I miss seeing them. I thought about how much I still miss my brother, Al.
Thoughts to my kids and grandkids, my best friend back home all came rushing in around me like giant waves from a hurricane. My chest started to feel tight. A warm then hot feeling engulfed me.
My legs felt warm and my feet and hands became instant ice. I got up because I have had experience in this area and went to the bathroom. I soaked a washcloth in very cold water. I placed it on my face and the back of my neck.
I went back to bed and wrestled with my thoughts. I tried the arguing with my body thoughts and my brain thoughts. I was desperate to settle down and rid myself of this panic attack.
Finally to no avail, I sought my Bible. Maybe I should have done this first thing, but I have always been the type of person who is considered by others a survivor, so God is the last person I go to when I finally realize I can not do it myself.
I sat there in bed squeezing that Bible like I was holding the handles on 250 pound bar bells. I started talking to God. I have no idea what I said because this many hours later I do not remember. It seemed, in no time, I started feeling my body relax. The tightness and the heat cooled down. I was able to go to sleep.
I hate these panic attacks. I have not had one since Al was still here. I know that with no one to talk to face to face, I tend to build up my thoughts and my brain goes off spinning like a kids toy top.
I hate it when I feel out of control. I don’t like it when I seek but find no answers. I do remember thinking how thankful I was last night that I have a home with heat; that I am not homeless. I remember thanking God that I am able to purchase groceries and pay my bills.
What I don’t like is the darkness at the end of the tunnel. I get so little help from my disability, and I can work very few hours per month in order not to lose my disability, that I see nothing down the road. I worry about what happens when I don’t have the money to buy groceries, or pay the bigger heat bills.
It is so stupid when I am sitting here in the daylight. I know and Ute reminds me, worrying is useless. I still feel the after effects from my panic attack last night. I don’t like it and I need to move past it. Life could be so much worse, and maybe I remember when it was.
I remember being homeless and wondering where my next meal was or where I was going to rest my head at night. I was so dependent on everyone else for my next minute. I never want to go back to that again and I think I feel myself in a position that this could happen.
My parents would be so disappointed in me. They would believe that at sixty years old, I would have my own home, money in the bank, a nice retirement to fall back on. Sometimes I am glad they are not here to see the ways of my life now.
I was hoping that by writing this I would relax even more, but I still feel tight muscles. I just know that God helped me make it through the night and I need to see some tiny light at the end of the tunnel. I need something positive to happen in my life. I need to feel worthy. Existing is never enough to keep moving forward.