I was swiftly spiralling down a dark hole of despair. Loosing control as I was going down, down, down. Every indication that I was relapsing was steering me in the face. My sleeping pattern was interrupted, my appetite for food was dwindling, my emotions were crying out to me to help them stop. But I could not control them, the dam had broken and I was drowning. But worst of all, panic attacks had returned and was taking over my life. My greatest fear had come true; I was relapsing!
But was I willing and was I going to let this happen again? I fought this before and I will fight this war again. I was determined to stop this illness from escalating into a full blown breakdown. In the back of my mind I knew my options had pretty much ran out. Over the years I had tried everything to escape this living hell. But yet every day for the past eight years (not including a lifetime) I could not honestly say I had a ‘good’ day. I am not referring to my physical life but my life from within my mind. My mind was broken and I was trying desperately to fix it. I just wanted this hell to go away. But to even reach a functioning level, required hard, hard work. And today I have reached that level but staying there requires so much strength, courage and determination.
And there are so many every day triggers that would throw me into the grasps of my depression, anxiety and panic attacks. How was I going to defeat this monster? I have to use my past experiences to find my way out. And I knew the best place to start was my amazing family doctor. I wasted no time to get an appointment and before I knew it, I was sitting face to face with the man I knew could help me. I described to him the horrors of my panic attacks, how they awakened me from my already restless sleep. How I was afraid to be in a public place because a panic attack could strike without warning and wasn’t  just confined to my home life but could occur anywhere. And because of this, I was a prisoner, under house arrest.
I explained how I wasn’t living, just surviving and this was fair to no one. I was determined, this as to stop and I would do anything to make it stop. And being the compassionate doctor he is, he was determined to help me. His first plan of attack was to get my panic attacks under control. And this would require another drug, called buspirone. I have to admit, I wasn’t all that optimistic, given my track record. But I was willing to try and I did. To my amazement, six days later from taking this new drug, I have not had another panic attack since. I am being highly cautious and afraid to get my hopes up because of past drug failures but I have to believe that this one is working and will remain working.
I visited my scheduled psychologist appointment yesterday. And as I sat in his home based office, he politely asked how I was doing today? And I replied with, ‘I’m having a good day’. It seems like forever since I said those words, I really surprised myself when I said them. When you have a chronic illness, it’s not every day you can say, you’re having a good day. So now I’m just hoping to have more ‘good’ days, then bad days.
All of us I’m sure have good days and bad days. One thing we can be assured of and that is, it won’t rain always. And if we could just remember that on the bad days then we can make it through. I’m reminded of the song which says;
“Someone said that in each life some rain is bound to fall. And each one sheds his share of tears, And trouble troubles us all. But the hurt can’t hurt forever and the tears are sure to dry.
And it won’t rain always, the clouds will soon be gone. The sun that they’ve been hiding has been there all along. And it won’t rain always, God’s promises are true. The sun’s gonna shine in His own good time, and He will see you (and He will see me) through.”