Over a year ago I fell onto the hardest time in my life.
Poorly dealing with work stress and stress at home lead to anxiety which interrupted my sleeping.
Severly interrupting my sleep.
Then I started to become afraid of whether or not I could sleep at night. This fear would feed back into my anxiety which would further impact my sleep.
It was just out of control. Such a simple action (or non-action) being interrupted by an overactive, intensly fearful brain.
I’ve gone through a few hardships in my life. Nothing compared to this. My mom even died when I was pretty young. I feel bad and selfish saying this…but this was worse than that.
Some might thing, “so you didn’t get great sleep? so what?”
All I can say is that it was (and at times still is) unending torment.
When you’re in the throes of a moment like this it seems unending. A body ravaged with anxiety that can’t even escape from it in order to sleep alittle while. And, when attempting to lay down and sleep you’re mind starts racing, body starts tensing up and sweating profusely, and the only thought in your mind is how broken beyond repair you are.
I’ve seen counselors, psychologists, psychiatrists… they were all clueless. Some more so than others. It’s not like a broken bone. With that there’s no disagreement as to how to mend it. But with anxiety/depression; if you have 5 different mental health specialists you’re getting 5 different ways to go about and remedy it.
I was on sleeping, anti-anxiety, anti-depression pills like mad. They did close to nothing if not made the situation a bit worse.
I was lower than low. There was no comfort in life. I begged and pleaded with God to lift this burdern but I didn’t get any (apparent) help.
I felt alone, lost, and alien.
I would never have thought of killing myself prior to this. One of the few thoughts that would comfort me was me just dying and being gone. And I have a wife I love and a young child I love too! But, even thinking about them couldn’t turn this ship around.
I hope God is forgiving. I have to believe he is. Because there were some moments I was so low that if I had the energy and the means to do it… I probably would have killed myself.
When I think of Robin Williams my heart breaks.
I’m a pretty devout Catholic and I’ve felt the meaninglessness of it all, the intense unrelenting despair. The torment that affords you no place to hide.
And still… I fall back into that pit. It provides no assurance to remind yourself that you once were out of this hole. It distorts your perception of it.
The thought, “why can’t I just doze off like I used to” can arise in my mind and then my stomach starts to churn, my eyes start to sting, my body starts to sweat. Torment that doesn’t relent.
The only thing that has helped me through this has been acceptance. Accepting that this is just the way it is. And trying to get back to living my life.
But I’m tired of it. I miss my old self. This broken body haunted by a fearful specter of my mind… I don’t feel at home in my own skin anymore… certainly not in this world anymore.
I have feint glimpses of the life that used to be mine… and I’m thankful for that.
I don’t understand why God doesn’t just pull me out of this mire. I get angry at Him at times. I want pity from him… to just make this end. I’d do it for Him if the roles were reveresed.