The first few months after my sister died and I was misdiagnosed with a blood clot in my lung were pretty rough. I lived in a constant and perpetual state of fear. Every moment of every day was consumed with a giant "what if". All of the things I enjoyed before (singing, going for drives, going out to eat, drinking with my friends) were now things I dreaded and avoided. In some ways it was lucky I had decided to leave my band because I honestly don't think I could've gotten up on stage at that point. It was that quick. I had been performing twice a week for a year and after my panic attacks started, I couldn't even think about getting up in front of people without having a panic attack. For a long time, if Trevor and I went for a drive it had to be within a twenty mile radius of Zanesville, (the place where the hospital was). Ironically, I didn't trust a single doctor that worked there, after all they misdiagnosed me, released me with no real answers, and then sent me a $3,000 doctor bill that I had to pay off. Still, somehow, my own feeling of security revolved around being able to get back to that hospital if I needed to.
If you know me, you know that my favorite thing in the world to do is go out to a restaurant and eat. I LOVE food. It's my "thang". Going to a restaurant when you have panic attacks is not my idea of fun. I would have to have a seat as close to the exit as possible in case I needed to escape. (You know how scary mashed potatoes and gravy can be at times.) The whole meal would revolve around me analyzing how I felt. "Did I just feel dizzy?" "Why did that guy just look at me?" "Am I allergic to this?". It was a nightmare. In October of 2004, 7 months after my sister died, I found out I was pregnant with Emma. Trevor and I were so excited. A couple of months later Trevor's work permit finally came through and we decided (well, mostly he decided) he should get a job. He got a job working in Lancaster. Lancaster is where my sister died. Lancaster is where I worked as well (but at the time I was working from home). Lancaster and I had issues. I was afraid to go there. I didn't want Trevor to go there because (wait for it....) "what if something bad happened to him? Those Lancaster paramedics killed my sister. They laughed at her while she died." That's how I saw it. I'd be lying if I said I didn't still see it that way to some degree. I couldn't stand the thought of him driving all the way to Lancaster while I stayed home, so I asked my boss if I could come in to the office and work on the days when Trevor was working, and work from home the other times. He, of course said yes, because he was a really nice boss. On the days Trevor had to work during normal office hours at my office, I'd go into work and sit and do my job, with tremendous anxiety and effort. On the days that Trevor had to work late evenings or weekends, I would go to the mall where he worked and sit on the bench out front of his job for 8 hours and wait for him to finish. That carried on for three months. People at the mall probably thought I was the biggest weirdo ever, but I felt safer there than I did at home alone. I also felt bored, and ashamed, and dependent....and the list goes on. Sometimes, if my aunt wasn't busy on a Saturday, I'd go spend the day with her while Trevor worked. I felt safe there too, but she wasn't always home when Trevor had to work and eventually, as I got more pregnant, the thought of sitting on that bench became less appealing. Instead of trying to stay home by myself while Trevor went to work like "normal" people do, I begged him to quit. So he did. I carried on working from home, but even that became stressful. I worked in a mental health office. I had to type notes about people who had mental problems, from Bi-Polar, to anxiety, to depression, to schizophrenia. On the more severe cases, I'd sit and obsess if I would ever be like that. When I'd type notes about people with anxiety it made me panic because I was one of them. Everything I heard in those little head phones seemed to add to my problems. I couldn't just do my job without obsessing and analyzing everything I heard and typed. When Emma was born, my anxiety got better to some degree. I was forced to focus on something other than my "what if's" for once. I still couldn't be alone though, and I didn't dare let Trevor take Emma anywhere without me. Basically I just got new "what if" thoughts that included her. I started singing again and was fine as long as Trevor was with me. He was my "safe person". When Emma was born we decided we would eventually move to Australia. We put our house up for sale and when it finally sold, I was excited. I was ready to move. I saw it as a chance to escape my anxiety. Unfortunately, it didn't really stay behind as I had hoped. I created it, so it came with me. It was a lot better at first after we moved here. Well, I'm not sure if that statement is really true or not. I mean, Trevor was able to go get a job, and I was fine about that....but my mom came over with us and stayed for six months, so it's not like I was really alone. My anxiety was pretty good for that first six months. My mom, and Emma, and I walked over to the shops each day and I started taking Emma to story time at the library and a play group. After my mom went back, I had a few set backs, panicking when I would take Emma places. I ended up getting a cell phone so I could call Trevor whenever I wanted, and buying a car of my own so I didn't have to walk everywhere. It wasn't hard to adjust to driving on the wrong side of the road because I hadn't driven in 4 years! I made some friends and started inviting people around for "morning tea". I started taking Emma to kindergym and kept busy. Emma and I had a very busy social life.
To be continued...
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