This blog will be heavy. I have a confession to make to all of you. I have lied to all of you in some fashion. I didn't realize until now that it was quite a lie, and I do apologize, but let me explain.
Since I was a child, I have been petrified of dying. I wouldn't let anyone say the word around me. Similarily the idea of eternity, the concept of it never ending has frightened me so bad from childhood that to this day I can not think of it in such depth without having an all out crying, feeling faint panic attack.
Junior year of highschool Dustin Rakestraw, a fellow classmate was killed by a gun. Shot in the head accidently. I went to his funeral, I saw his body, and the image haunted me. Suddenly I was rendered helpless to fear. I had never been too afraid of my allergy. I ate things without looking to see what was in them, I didn't even carry an epi-pen. All of a sudden I couldn't eat anything. I was afraid I would be allergic to it, even if I'd eaten it a million times. Having a boyfriend who's family cooked all chinese food didn't help. I couldn't eat. I had frequent panic attacks.
I lost 9 pounds.....
I was afraid of getting accidently poisoned. I hated being near chemicals, I hated touching surfaces windex had just been on. I washed my hands constantly.
I hit rock bottom. I had eaten chicken strips I'd brought home from a resturant (food I'd had a million times). I didn't finish them at the resturant cause I saw an old woman who was moving very slowly. My cat has died mysteriously the same week and had moved very slowly because he was so sick. The greif made me ill, and so I took them home, but when I went to eat them, I thought they "smelled funny" so I had a panic attack, my throat felt tight, I was convinced it was closing. My parents drove me to the hospital. When I got there they saw I was just fine. The doctor figured out it was a panic attack and offered my xanax. I declined, but I went back to my psychiatrist and went on the meds I had taken for the depression I had already beat. Apparently it treated OCD as well. I hated going back on the meds, but I didn't know what else to do.
I got well enough to eat again, but I panic attacks were still a part of my life. I got better over the course of a year, but not to the way I was before. In May of 2005 I went off the meds and stopped seeing my psychiatrist. I was doing so much better. I came up here and I survived in the dining hall which is very hard with someone with allergies. However here is where the lying comes in. I have to this day not been able to try new foods. I am still apprehensive. I don't not like fish. I in reality haven't had much. I'm afraid I'm allergic to seafood. I don't not like chinese food. While it is true I didn't like the few things I tried at my ex-boyfriend's house, I really haven't had a lot, but it really scares me. I am picky, but I am also scared to try new places. This is why I get pasta with no sauce, why I won't take food offered to me, why I order the same thing at resturants. I am scared. I am sorry, I realize that these were lies. I didn't see them as lies when I told them, but they weren't whole truths. I am sorry.
I thought I was doing better, and I was. But last quarter I fell again. I had my first big panic attack at fall retreat. Right next to Jeff, Woody and Nate and they didn't even know. I don't eat lasagna cause I know people can put allergens in it. I can't believe someone if they say no, it has nothing in it. So I just had salad and bread (probably saying I wasn't hungry, another lie, and I'm sorry) The bread had brown stuff on it that I thought was cinnamon, but it tasted nothing like that, so I freaked out wondering what it was.
I'm good at hiding panic attacks. The fear creeps up my spine, and I feel my throat get tight. If you watch me, you may see me get very quiet and disengaged. Every once in a while you may see me flinch and close my eyes as the fear intensifies. I try to self-talk myself out of it, but sometimes it doesn't work. This time, I got up and went to the bathroom to make sure I didn't have hives. This was defeat. I gave into irrationality. I had none, I was fine, I knew it, but the fear said otherwise.
Right before break I started freaking out thinking about eternity quite a few times. I would go to sleep and thing how another day was ending and my life was ticking by and then I was going to die. The day I went home I had a panic attack off mexican food. Something was wrong. This was far too frequent. I started wondering if I could see someone. Over break I'd say I had 3-5 panic attacks.
The past few days have been tough. I've had about 2 or 3 attacks over food. All I could think about was eternity. It felt strange, like my life was worthless and didn't matter cause in the end that was there. Not suicidal sort of feeling, more something I can't explain, but it was strange. I made my decision. I need help.
I went to the counseling center today. As I sat there filling out the paperwork I began to cry. I have fought since I was 13 to not be in therpay. I battled depression my whole life and finally kicked it around 17. My psychiatrist says I could/will relapse, but I don't think so. The second it rears its head I'm gonna kick it in the face. The anxiety though, that was never properly dealt with. Just pacified with meds. I couldn't belive I was here again. Filling out this paperwork, having to do this. I shouldn't have to do this. I should be free. Why can't I just be free? I walked into the couselors room and I saw the couch, the familiar set up, and it brought me back to the suite in Eastlake where I spent time in varying frequencies for 6 years. I broke down. I didn't want to be there, but I knew I had to be. I knew there was no other alternative. As much as I hate it, I need help. I don't want to ask my mom to check with insurance for care and have to tell her, no I'm not better yet. No, I am bad again. I have to go back in a week to see if I need meds. I don't want them. I feel like it won't be me beating it, but the meds. I don't want to feel weak and vulnerable. I am ok with taking xanax before the session so I can discuss eternity without freaking out. If that's what it takes... I just want to be free, I just want to be normal. In the past day I feel I have been better.
Why am I laying this out? This is the secret I have been hiding. I am a victim of panic attacks. I have lived as a captor of fear for 5 years, but no more. No more. I can't live in this stagnant place for the rest of my life. I beat depression. I beat it. I can beat this. I don't know how long it will take, but I am going to beat it. I am GOING to beat it. This is the beginning of the end of my imprisionment. I will get better. I need to try new foods in places I feel safe which may not mean the dining hall. I need to prove to myself that I am stronger.
I am afraid of what you all will think of me. I know how stupid I sound. I know no one understands. I feel completley alone in this, and I have been alone in it. I have been made fun of and made to feel like an utter piece of crap and a burden because of it. Maybe I have been a burden, I understand how annoying it can be to be restriced in dining locations. I am afraid that you all will think I am unstable, crazy, that the person who's opinion I care about most will think I have less worth, that I am faulty because of this, that because of it I am undesirable. But I need support. I need understanding. I need someone to say, Aimee you are stronger than this. You can beat this. I need prayer, but most of all I just need to get better.
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