“What if all that keeps you trapped in that invisible boxing ring is the belief that you have to keep fighting in order to win?… What will happen to your opponent if he suddenly has nobody who will fight him?” Courtney Perry

Once upon a time

I started having panic attacks

I hated them so vehemently

That I swore to fight them at all costs

I swore to do whatever I had to to to win this battle

So I trained

And so I won many battles

But eventually I grew tired

I grew tired of always fighting

Being on guard 24/7 was crippling

And life was becoming one giant battlefield

One day

The panic attacks came back

They had grown stronger than before

I shrank my world to fit in my condo

Hoping if I stayed off the battlefield

The panic attacks would see I was no longer in the fight

They’d turn around and walk away

And leave me alone

Instead, they found me there

In my safe place

Banging on my doors and windows

Rattling me to my very core

I was so afraid

I hid in the darkness and shrank into the corner

Days passed this way

I could hear them getting louder and louder

And just when my door sounded like it was going to break apart

And my mind was going to snap into a million pieces

I sprang to my feet

I frantically threw open the front door

And yelled for them to fucking do their worst

I screamed that I wasn’t afraid of them

I didn’t like them

They knew that

I never would

But I had grown so tired of living in a constant state of fear

That I realized I’d rather come face to face with them

And if they destroyed me

Well

Then at least it would be over

The funny thing was

That when I opened the door

No one was there

The hall was eerily silent

I was stunned

I looked around

Sure that they were just hiding

To catch me at my most vulnerable

I looked in corners and under crawl spaces

Still I was alone

I was bewildered and shaken

I sank to my knees in the quiet hallway

And I started to cry

Big fat tears rolled down my face

I wasn’t crying because I was afraid

Not this time

This time was different

I was crying because all of this time

All of these years

I had expended so much energy and strength

I had used up so much of myself

When all I had ever needed to do

Was to open that fucking door

—–

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‘You can’t help getting older, but you don’t have to get old.’ George Burns

The first of October means it’s my birthday.

It means I’m 37 years old.

It means I’m a year older.

It means I’ve survived another year.

There is a reason I fight so hard and it is because I love life and want to enjoy it to the fullest.

I didn’t do the Lemtrada and the Paxil change for no reason.

I did it because I want more.

I want to die, wrinkled, tattooed, scarred and with no weeping at my funeral telling one another that ‘it’s a pity, she had such a hard/sad life.’

Nah, I want people to remember the life force that I was, the zeal I shared and the hunger I had for more.

I know it’s not always on display.

Sometimes other things take over but it’s always in there.

Sometimes it’s just hiding.

I’m like the comeback kid, I’ll always bounce back. I will this time too.

Here’s to 37 and making it count!

Thanks for all ❤️

‘Even a happy life cannot be without a measure of darkness, and the word ‘happy’ would lose its meaning if it were not balanced by sadness.’ Carl Jung

I think I could write a story about my life

With a tongue-in-cheek name like ‘The Measuring Spoon of Life’

It would be about a little girl who would carefully measure her happiness by how many nights a week her favourite cousins could sleep over

She would use teaspoons and tablespoons to represent her happiness

When she was a teenager, she learned to measure happiness in dimes and grams

She would use scales and dime bags to symbolize her happiness

As she grew into a young adult, her happiness amounted to how many days in a row she got to spend with her love

For that she used cell phone pictures depicting laughter and text messages filled with flirting

Then when she hit her late 20s, she would measure her happiness by how long she could remain in public without having a panic attack

She would use mood journals and diaries to interpret her happiness

Later in her mid 30s, her happiness was measured by milligrams, and how many Ativan’s she’d had to take

Pill bottles and prescriptions were the perfect illustrations of how much happiness she’d been prescribed

Throughout the story the landscape changed

The young girl grew into a teenager and then an adult

But her objective in life remained the same

The pursuit of happiness

She learned very early on

That happiness only came in small doses

And because of that, it should be treasured dearly

She would think to herself

Maybe it’s so people don’t overdose on happiness

It’s far too sacred to be given an abundance of

In the story of the young girl, she learned early on

That happiness is not going to stick around forever

So she learned to cherish the nights with cousins, the recklessness found in the dimes and grams of youth, the lucky days spent with lovers, the little successes during rough patches

Like all great stories

It comes with a life lesson

Using the girl who measured happiness with spoons as an example

The story warns that if she had so much as blinked her eyes

She might have missed one of the small measured capsules that happiness would hide in

But that little girl was smart

And she knew that one day she might need a dose of her treasured happiness

She knew it would help her

To get through all the hard times that were waiting up ahead

The story ends with that little girl as an old woman now

Suffering through pain of illness, loss and disease

She looks so old and sad

She opens up a memory box

And empties it all onto the bed beside her

Out comes the spoons, the scales, the pictures, the journals, the diaries, the prescriptions

The old woman looks at her life laid in front of her

Instruments of measured happiness

And she’s so grateful

That she held onto all of those small doses of happiness

She thinks to herself

How much she needed to see it, to feel it all over again

She smiles for the first time in a long while

She can’t even count how many times

Those small doses of happiness that she’d held onto

Saved her life

Maybe a thousand times already

And once more

‘But It Is One Thing To Read About Dragons And Another To Meet them.’ Ursula K. Le Guin

I have Panic Disorder What is Panic Disorder?

From my very first panic attack to my most recent this morning

They all share the same premise

My fear is that I’m going to go crazy

Which to me looks like

Being stuck in a permanent state of panic attack

Where my breath is not deep enough

Everything sounds too far away

I feel nauseous and queasy

My mind is racing

My heart beating too fast

My tears won’t stop coming

I feel afraid

I feel discouraged

And I feel like it’s all never going to end

I know people say shit like this all the time

But I truly wouldn’t wish this on anyone

It’s such an overwhelming feeling and sensation

That it just takes over every part of your life

Life becomes all about navigating panic attacks

What can I do to avoid them?

What triggers them?

What makes me feel better when I have one?

When will they stop?

Why me?

I won’t lie

I get really stuck in the last two

I’ve been thinking the same thing since I was 18

What the fuck did I do so badly that I had to get stuck with this?

Negotiating on what I can do better to make them stop

Its actually kinda funny that between MS and Panic attacks

I’d actually rather have MS

I’ve never thought about that before

Even writing it out sounds preposterous

But it’s the truth

MS with all its pain, difficulties, uncertainties and tribulations

I’d rather be stuck with you

Then experience even one more panic attack

I’m sure to people who’ve had the good fortune to never have had a panic attack

That sounds silly

But here’s the thing

While MS certainly fucks with your vision, your mobility and so much more

It does not trick you into believing your worst nightmare

It doesn’t dupe you into thinking you’re dying

It simply is what it is

Your immune system attacking your myelin

It’s as scientific as it is shitty

It’s not curable but it’s explainable (altho the exact reason why it occurs is still a mystery)

Panic disorder on the other hand

Is a lying, manipulative, twisted motherfucker

Who will do whatever it takes to fuck with you

Yeah maybe that’s giving it too much power

But how can I not when it’s been responsible for so much negativity in my life?

In my own father’s life?

Growing up I saw the hold it had on my dad

I saw how much he tried to resist it

How he couldn’t

How he still can’t

Sure people tell me I’m not like him

My doctor included

But we have this huge struggle in common

The one he couldn’t defeat

The one that feels like it’s defeating me

The one that feels like it has a chokehold on us

Maybe our stories are linked

If he defeats it

Then I can too

Or maybe one has no bearing on the other

But I promise

If I can slay this dragon

It’ll be for us both

‘A Heart At Peace Gives Life To The Body, But Envy Rots The Bones.’ Proverbs 14:30

Sometimes when She’s feeling really low

And bitter

She wonders if healthy people

Especially people of healthy minds

Know how lucky they are

To not have to feel the pain that is being at war with your own brain

She wonder if they can appreciate to lay down at night and have their mind not taunt them

Do they know how absolutely jealous She is of them

So green with envy that they won’t ever know the humiliation that goes with needing help

From

Doctors that can’t understand

Employers who don’t care

Friends that won’t be around forever

Lovers that leave

Maybe She’s not even angry that they won’t have to take medication to feel some type of normalcy

Perhaps She’s only envious that they don’t have to rely on medications that make them sick when they start taking them

And sicker still when they stop

She can’t pretend to not be envious of these things

She’s only embarrassed that She can’t hide how green She’s become with her venomous jealousy

Jealousy that starts so deep

She thinks it must be vivid and effervescent

That it’s like a beacon of light shining out

Warning people up ahead

Of the jealousy radiating from within

The girl that turned green with so much envy

Like a cautionary tale

Should be steered clear of

Because if you get too close

The green girls toxic jealousy might rub off

Maybe it’s contagious

Or even worse

Maybe the green girl will siphon out

Everything that gives you peace of mind

Leaving you

Just like her

Covetous of all the others

Who could hold onto the pieces of their mind

Lucky to have heeded the warnings

About the dangers of the green girl and her envy

‘…In A World Of Ordinary Mortals, You Are A Wonder Woman.’ Queen Hippolyta (Wonder Woman’s Mom)

Struggling to get through today

Hour by hour

Minute by minute

Each second more excruciating than the last

Skin crawling

Head pounding

Eyes straining

This is the part in the movie where the poor guy reaches for his drug of choice

Where the sad woman guzzles her beloved bottle

It’s the climax in a novel

Where emotions soar to dizzying heights

Where nothing can possibly survive at such intensity

Like a car reaching peak speed

Like an addict reaching the height of their high

The moment is suspended in time

When the audience knows a turning point is coming

Watching for the pivotal scene in which the hero sheds his old skin

Where the heroine finally emerges

That’s what happens in movies and books

In real time nothing is ever quite so profound

The moment goes on and on

Stretching uncomfortably long

The hero remains sheathed in weary skin

The heroine hides in her shadows

There’s no audience waiting with bated breath

Rooting for the breakthrough moment

Instead

There’s only a woman looking at herself through a mirror

Waiting

Watching

Begging for a glimpse of the heroine to change the narrative of this story

From another unhappy ending

To one in which she finally gains her superpowers

‘Hope Is Being Able To See That There Is Light Despite All Of The Darkness.’ Desmond Tutu

It’s an exciting time of year

It’s back to school time for a lot of people

Kids going back to school

Teachers and support staff heading back to work

A time for newness

Opportunity

Change

And me

Well I’m still home

Still

I don’t think I like that word anymore

It has such negative connotations

Like something is dragging on

And I guess this is

It’s sort of like living in purgatory

In between two worlds

….

I had to stop writing

I can’t seem to think about the kids or work without feeling so sad

The kind of sad where hot tears escape your eyes

Where it feels like you just picked a scab

And it’s red and raw and bleeding all over again

But it hurts so much more than the initial cut

Ugh

This isn’t where I want to still be

Still

Again that fucking word

Haunting me

Reminding me

I want to look back at my work memories fondly

Not with this gaping hole in my heart

Intellectually I know that I needed this time off

That I still do

There was and is a lot going on

That doesn’t

However

Stop me from wishing it didn’t have to be this way

I miss the kids I worked with

I miss the ones I haven’t even had the opportunity to have met yet

I miss getting to know them

Learning their stories

I miss finding ways to help them become better, stronger versions of themselves

It’s not entirely altruistic though

I selfishly miss seeing myself through their young admiring eyes

Looking at me like I held all the secrets to life

Looking at me with hope

Hope

I never managed to have much use of it

For myself

But always

Always managed to find even the smallest droplet for them

In this purgatory I find myself stuck in

I don’t belong in the work world

I don’t belong in the sick world

I don’t belong with the hopeful

I don’t belong with non hopefuls

I’m stuck lingering in between all of these worlds

With hope seeping out of my open wounds

Without a hope of saving a drop

But for those special kids in my heart

I’ll find a way

To save and keep a droplet of hope locked up tight

Just in case you need it…