I'm going to take you to a secret place. Somewhere where no one other than myself has been before. But I warn you now its not a nice place. In fact its a highly unhealthy place. What else would you expect from this blog which teeters always on the pit of darkness expecting at any moment to fall in and right through? Its a blog entitled "Metamorphosis". Its my blog. Its a private blog that I post on often but rarely read. It started as a therapeutic blog in thought but has always given me mixed emotions. The purpose was to post all my dark thoughts, health anxieties and whatever else I keep from public view in a place where I could just get them out and not look upon them again. But there were two other uses besides that. One was to track health anxieties when required and prove to myself they were recurring nonsense. The other was to have a place to type at will amid panic. I don't no how many readers have panic attacks at home which appear at first to come out of the blue but I have them occasionally and as the home is the last safe haven it is probably worse than outside where I can at least escape to a safer place if it all gets too much. But they are infrequent and I have found the only way to cope is by typing away in the course of having a panic attack. And it is one such episode I'd like to post today. What you will notice is that the entry is much like blogging to someone. Despite being for my eyes only and usually not even my eyes I always write it that way. It is never with the intention of someone reading but more like me talking to myself like that internal dialogue on electronic format.
I said these attacks appear at first to come out of the blue. When you go back and look though there are usually plenty of reasons why they occur. Its mostly apex of many things. Maybe the promise of so much falling into a rut. Maybe a draught from a window left open over a night where the temperature fell. Many reasons. I won't bore you with the lead up to my own because its not important but I thought I would share a little of my head space in the clutches of panic. Outside its more difficult to recall but indoors at a keyboard its more true. So however irrational or embarrassing below I have posted some of what I typed today. In fact I typed tons so this is just a little bit of it. In fact its the point where things seemed to turn for the better but you know panic. It doesn't play by rules and even now its in the shadows waiting to pounce. Anyway a panic episode raw with not much editing except for personal details and the like...
17:53 It is so confusing. I think what has happened is that all this shit has manifested into a full blown panic attack. I am definitely amid one of those and have been for at least the last hour. I feel like screaming and would do if I thought it would help. Part of me wants to stay semi-protected on the couch while the other part wants to go out- get out of here. But neither is an option despite being then only options and that is what is driving the rod of agitation up my spine and shaking me about. I can't stop pulling and clawing at my skin. I am in torment, real torment. Its how I would imagine being kept away from home to feel. Yet I am here in my home which is supposed to be the safe place. My hands are shaking and I can feel the tension around my arms, shoulders and neck. Constricted breathing, blurred vision.
The thing is this: because I am having this ongoing panic attack I now cannot tell if I am ill or not because whatever other sensations there were are now buried underneath the panic. And you might think it can't be that bad if I am typing away. Well it is and the only reason I am typing away is for distraction. Even though I am typing about it the typing is keeping the worst at bay but only until I stop. What I am looking for is an off switch. I don't want to be awake while this is what its like. Its like waking up to find you are drowning under water and even though you cannot actually drown the sensations are horrible. Imagine you could not die and you got your legs stuck in rocks underwater. No-one knows you are there. You are stuck forever taking in water which won't kill you but is just a horrible beyond belief scenario to be in. And because of it you cannot sleep and cannot escape but instead resigned, no not even resigned, to this awake state of threat that is never going to reach fruition and never going to end any time soon enough. That's how I feel at the moment.
But as bad as the sensations are its these constant intrusive negative thoughts which have not only kept it going but continue to do so. I cannot stop them- no one can do that. But I cannot deal with them. They are so strong now that they have exploded before I even have the chance to deal with them. Its like trying to bat away a barrage of hailstones with a baseball bat. It feels futile yet I continue to do it because it is at least better than doing nothing and no one in a panic can do nothing because the whole point of fight or flight is to make you take action and not taking action just causes more discomfort.
The strongest thought of all though is that I am stuck with this and there is no way out until it passes. But it cannot pass fast enough and nor will it. In typing I am glimpsing what is happening and hoping with each glimpse the games are stopping but they are nor. What is to be gained by facing this? If this panic was an opportunity to prove I am bigger than it then fair enough. If I could ride this out and then get a rush of victory then it would be worth taking a risk. That would be empowering. But it doesn't work like that. I have ridden the storm many times and it doesn't just stop. It does not leave a sense of achievement. In fact it doesn't ever quite go but instead will linger for the rest of the night threatening to strike again sapping the body. It never goes it just eventually eases into a slightly dormant but volatile state. Its not a case of worrying less that it might return because you have passed through it. Its not nice. You don't want more of it and you could well do without it returning quickly in a drained disposition. No there is no positive to passing through panic, at least in this way. If I was of the mind to panic, say 'so what?' and then it didn't bother me then that is different. But it does bother me because I never feel in control enough to be able to do that. While I try feebly to conjure up some accepting by tapping my pathetic little magic wand on anything that looks like it will come to my aide my voice is a yelling whisper beneath the crashing tide of all the negative waves of emotions and thoughts flooding in. I am not in control. You need to be in control to do that and I am not. These thoughts come fast and furious leaving big gaping craters on my confidence with each rapid impact while I float around trying to feel with my feet where the ground is and I spin around and around looking aimlessly for the control stick. With my hand I reach out for those books with all the answers in them: 'what to do in a mental crisis', 'the idiots guide to sailing in rough seas', etc. I see my hand but the books are far far away on the horizon. Out of reach and almost out of sight. No chance. Trying to wrestle back control is like jumping on to a spinning gyro on a pair of stilts and trying to keep your balance. Is there a calm place in there somewhere? A place where you can insert a straw and suck up some of that fine old 'inner strength' juice? I sometimes wonder. I wonder if it actually exists and I just haven't found it yet or whether its a myth.
What I conclude is that amid the storm its just a case of getting out the old bucket and bailing out the water until the storm has passed before attempting a patch up job on the gaping hole. There is no passing through and finding the eye of the storm. Maybe it exists but I've never believed in anything without experiencing it first hand and as yet it is an experience I have yet to savour let alone touch on. Much better I think to stay up in the crow's nest and watch that horizon on standby for any trouble lying in wait. At least then you can prepare for what is coming or steer your way around it- even if that involves backtracking. Passing through? Well when you find yourself inside the storm you have no other option than to pass through. Some storms are real bastards though. Just when you've passed through you find the wind changes direction and the blasted thing is following you for the rest of the night looming over waiting to catch up again. Its a tiring business. I think though the worst of the storm is finally over- maybe.
Apologies if that was a bit dark. It was the darkest of places, a visit to the blackest recesses of my mind. For some reason I just felt the need to post it and get it off my chest rather than leaving it locked away. But a bigger part of me wants to stick it in draft to be deleted at a later date as I do with so many posts. But I won't. This is how it is and I hope by getting it out of the way I can maybe move on to some lighter posts. Lastly I know the title is a bit over the top but I'm lacking inspiration at the moment but like using the boy's bath toy as some kind of visual metaphor. This stuff goes on daily, cycles daily. If anyone thinks I am sitting here enjoying the good life on social handouts then I beg to differ. Its not a nice place. I tell you one thing: its not a place you would ever want to reside for more than a moment so try living with it in every waking moment.
