The Aftermath, Part 5: The Agony of Anxiety

One of the greater struggles I've had since Donnie passed away is dealing with crushing, overwhelming, out of control, debilitating, terrifying anxiety. Over the years I have dealt with occasional anxiety attacks that started in my mid-twenties. They've never been a walk in the park, but they have been subdued to just once in a while struggles I've only had to deal with from time to time. However, in working my way through my grief, the anxiety I've faced has been astronomical compared to what I've experienced in the past. 

When Donnie first passed away, I had great difficulty sleeping. A large part of the reason was as much as I tried not to, I couldn't help reliving the night of his death. The sound of his last breaths being exhaled were constantly in my ears. The confusion I felt when he didn't respond to me replayed through my emotions. The frustration with the 911 call that I won't get into here would continually upset me. The memory of Emelia walking in the room and being horrified when I was trying to do chest compressions on him haunted me. Hearing the Doctor's confirmation at the hospital filled me with dread over and over. Facing my children and telling them their daddy was gone clawed at and crushed my heart. The series of those moments and emotions helplessly repeated without cease in my mind. I would lie down to sleep and face his side of the bed, the very spot he died in and it would start and not end.

When I did sleep, I had nightmares. I kept dreaming that he was alive again, somehow; but he was still sick and in the dreams I had knowledge that no matter what I did, no matter what anyone did, he was going to die AGAIN and I was going to have to face his death AGAIN and go through all of those emotions AGAIN. It was torment. I would dream different scenarios each time, horrible, awful varying deaths often involving a fall of some kind. Each time a different dream with the same result. And then I would wake up and have to tell myself out loud, "He's gone. He's not coming back. He can't come back. He's dead." I had to make myself believe it because the dreams were so real, it felt like he had really come back. It was like being told over and over again that I lost him. Pure torture.

It took 4 months for the dreams to finally stop. I was visiting my Aunt Julia in March and I shared with her my torment. She prayed for me that night before we went to bed. I haven't had a dream like that since then and I've been able to rest better. It took about 7-8 months for the replaying of his death to slowly diminish during my waking hours and finally come to a stop. Since then I've had more peace and slept better and longer.

My anxiety was crippling and happened more often during those days of waking and sleeping torment. I would sometimes go a few days without an anxiety attack and be relieved, just to be blown away by one unexpectedly. My heart would start beating fast, I would find it difficult to breathe, I would feel like running and escaping or crawling and hiding. I felt like I was going insane. I didn't want to see anyone or go anywhere and yet I would have to talk to someone so I knew I wasn't crazy. It was terrifying.

I would also get overwhelmed easily by simple tasks like doing my laundry or going to church, things that were normally second nature to me. I would hyperventilate at the thought of driving further than taking my kids to school. I would wait until I had no food left in the house because just the thought of going to the store for groceries freaked me out. I would be talking with a friend about Donnie and suddenly feel light headed like I was going to pass out. Just thinking about taking a trip somewhere in a car by myself would set me off. If I had a particularly busy day planned in the week, all week long I would dread it and be anxious. Any task that brought about minimal nervousness or fear or anything that took me out of my comfort zone and would normally just make me a little uncomfortable would trigger an agonizing anxiety attack. 

I also found myself facing my own mortality and developed a horrific fear of dying. After I would tuck the kids in bed at night, I would feel overwhelmingly alone. I would think of how quickly Donnie had died and I was so scared the same thing would happen to me. The fear of dying would just overtake me and I would suffer through the nights between that and missing Donnie and grieving for him. It was as if I was waiting for myself to die at any second. I worried the kids would wake and find me dead. I worried about them having to deal with my death on top of Donnie's. I worried about them facing life without parents. I worried about who would take care of them. I just lived in perpetual fear.

Often at night I would be blindsided by an attack, consumed with the loud silence and feel utterly alone and abandoned. I called my dear friend Lisa at 3:00 AM one night to come and sit with me because I was so frightened at how I was feeling. Sometimes an overbearing sense of dread would take me over and my chest would feel heavy and I couldn't think straight. I've had my sweet Aunt come spend time with me as well in some of my more severe episodes, even as recent as a week ago, Monday morning. 

Sometimes I call a friend or a relative and just talk for a while. If I talk to someone and have a sane conversation, it helps me know I'm not insane. It's such a strange sensation. I feel as if I am a balloon, being batted about in a stormy wind, about to drift away forever. But if I have someone here, or if I can talk to someone for a while, it grounds me somehow and calms me, like someone would be reaching up and grabbing my string and pulling me slowly, safely down to earth until I feel like my feet are back on the ground again. 

Thankfully, I have found some things to help me through my struggle with anxiety. I use a daily homeopathic personal blend of Bach flower essentials that my friend Chelsea makes for me. It helps keep me grounded on a daily basis. I also use another homeopathic remedy called Argentum Nitricum. The kids call them my 'chill pills'. They are teeny little sugar balls with argentum nitricum layered in it and they're held in a tube that looks like chapstick. When I feel an attack coming on I just place one or two under my tongue until it dissolves and it helps stop my anxiety attacks quicker, and sometimes completely heads them off at their beginning. Early on I was going through a bottle of the argentum nitricum weekly. Now I can make one bottle last nearly a month... So the severity and frequency of my anxiety attacks have greatly decreased.

My other methods vary, depending on what works in that moment. I breathe in my nose and out my mouth. I tell myself I am not in pain, I am not having a heart attack, I will be okay. I drink hot green tea flavored with mint and hold the warm mug in my hands or close to my chest and let the heat seep inside my body. Or sometimes I drink ice cold water. I turn the air cooler or put the fan on and it helps me feel like I can breathe better. I stop what I am doing and I clean something or empty the dishwasher. I cuddle with one of the kids so I don't feel so alone. I call someone to talk or on those rare occasions I can't stand to be alone, ask someone to come over. Or I get dressed and call someone and ask them if I can go see them. 

I get under my covers and go to sleep. I plan something fun to do with someone I care about so I have something to look forward to. I make a list of my worries or concerns so I'm not carrying them all in my mind. I put on some music and worship. I listen to my Bible ap read scripture out loud when I need to hear another voice and can't reach anyone or don't want to bother anyone. I have a good cry. I listen to Donnie singing or I look at his pictures or videos. I watch Andy Griffith on Netflix. And of course being the Christmas freak I am, I also like to watch Christmas movies on Netflix and usually play free cell at the same time on my phone. 

Why am I sharing all of this? Because for me, this has been one of the more horrific aspects of dealing with Donnie's death. Because I know I'm not the only person in the world who has suffered from anxiety attacks. Because I'm proud that I am slowly conquering them and they have become less frequent and less severe, most of the time. Because I have this personal paranoia thing about not using prescription medications unless it's absolutely necessary and honestly side effects freak me out and I really don't think I need another thing to freak me out, do you? Right. Crazy Sharon is signing off. Nanoo Nanoo.

Tomorrow's Blog: The Aftermath, Part 6: Moving Forward - The final blog in this series. Sort of.