Darkness Receding

I can give a few facts and stats about anxiety and depression, but I think anyone can look those up on Google. Instead, I choose to relate my own experience, in case it could help someone with similar experiences.

I’m not an expert at mental health, but I am an expert on me. I know every day I open my eyes something is not quite right with the world, (really, with me).

Medicine used to help, but not so much anymore. Panic attacks have gotten worse. To the point that all my muscles draw up (painfully) and I’m shaking in fear. I imagine death at the threshold.

My physical health has taken a nosedive. I make feeble attempts to change this, but I’m too exhausted to do anything that really helps. I’ve been sick everyday for the past three months and when one ailment subsides, another begins.

The horror of it is, I believe my mental state is causing problems with my physical states. In short, I’m causing my own illnesses.

About three months ago, I was diagnosed with a viral infection. I started getting over it, when pneumonia took hold. Then another viral infection and an upper respiratory thing that was miserable. Then strep throat.

Now, I have some kind of UTI and I can’t imagine what comes next. Nor do I want to.

Though all of these ailments are diagnosable and treatable, I can’t help but think that somehow my mental state has created this unhealthy monster. Better said, mentally, I laid the groundwork for them to make their way into my lowered immune system.

Is that even a thing? Is it possible? The stress of daily panic attacks, anxiety and depression, is probably enough to cause havoc with my immune system.

Anxiety and depression are very real dangers to those afflicted. I’ve lost jobs, compromised relationships and became reclusive until my daughters put the brakes on all of it.

As I write this, I’m telling myself that tomorrow I will make an appointment with the doctor and ask for new medication to help with the panic attacks. I’m going to ask her to test my immune system.

I know there is a chance I won’t call the doctor, because I have the embarrassment of returning to that office the tenth time in five months.

Depression reminds me of that passage from Dante’s Inferno, when he passes through the gates of hell. “Abandon hope, all ye who enter here.”

In my worst moments, hope is a memory.

I listen to motivational programs and self-talk. I think it helps for awhile. A few moments, anyway, and I’m grateful for that. Sometimes a moment is all we can ask for.

The light at the end of the tunnel is this: I am writing. I force myself to do this, because I really don’t want to. I make videos, which seems easier than writing at times, though I feel like I’m cheating, because most of my vids are unedited. I have created a regular schedule for myself to keep creating because I need that prompting. I don’t always stick to it.

Some days I can’t. Some days I’m lucky to brush my teeth and wash my face.

The light is that though I feel as if I’m swimming through darkness most of the time, my daughters and these (unnamed) angels around me, keep me going though I don’t want to.

I understand that they see beyond the darkness, when I cannot and I am so grateful for them.

UPDATE: This was written mid-2019. Since then my doctor has increased the dosage on my meds and I make it a point to exercise regularly. I won’t say this is a cure, but life looks much different.