I’m awake. I’m up. I can’t sleep, even though I’ve taken my medication for anxiety.
The funny thing about ativan is that it is not effective if you take it when you are all ready anxious.
It needs to be taken in anticipation of being anxious.
I’m going to add THAT to the list of sick jokes.
If I popped a pill every time I thought I may be anxious, I’d just be one big human pez dispenser.
I did have a friend with an anxiety disorder. He recovered with therapy to the point he didn’t need his medication any more, but then he was anxious he might get anxious again. To relieve his anxiety about becoming anxious he hoarded his pills.
Ironic isn’t it? The circle of treatment goes round and round.
I keep lying in bed, well, in the pull out love seat I bought from IKEA to have at my sister-s house for nights like this not thinking about the test, but how I can explain my feeling towards it.
I’m optimistic. I have great hope I will be healed. I’m also realistic. I know the messages I’m receiving from my body. I don’t appreciate them. I don’t want be realistic to be confused with pessimism. I’m not curling up in a ball and waiting to die here.
Hope for the best, prepare for the worst is my motto.
My anxiety regarding the test is normal. Running possible scenarios, outcomes, and courses of actions through my head is normal also.
It’s anticipatory grieving. I’m mentally preparing myself for any possibility so when I’m face with the reality, the evidence, I will have semi-prepared myself in my head by running through the scenario hypothetically in my head.
Anticipatory grieving his a huge issue in the loved ones of life threatening diseases. However, I’ve never read anything about the anticipatory grieving of patients for what they may lose.
I have anticipated and grieved myself to death, literally. I’ve prepared myself for all possibilities. I’ve been preparing for years know. The grieving cycle has been completed, now I jump randomly between steps in the process, no longer able to make future plans beyond my next diagnostic test.
I’m living on a whim, making plans based on how I feel day by day. I guess I could call it being free spirited, but it doesn’t feel so free spirited when your body is forcing the behavior.
I’m a free spirited planner (is this an oxymoron?). I like to have events and plans to lok forward to. My disease has robbed me of this. I have had too many disappointments to really look forward to the future with excitement and anticipation anymore.
What I do know is that no matter the outcome tomorrow I have plans and hope still. I’m intricately tied to life. I have the fighting spirit.
Xander has been asking God every night for me to be healthy for Christmas. I think this is a great timeline. I know this can happen.
Life works in mysterious ways. Events occur on their own timeline. At the very least, I am fortunate to have the reassurance that my suffering and experiences are not in vain. There is a purpose to this.
The funny thing about ativan is that it is not effective if you take it when you are all ready anxious.
It needs to be taken in anticipation of being anxious.
I’m going to add THAT to the list of sick jokes.
If I popped a pill every time I thought I may be anxious, I’d just be one big human pez dispenser.
I did have a friend with an anxiety disorder. He recovered with therapy to the point he didn’t need his medication any more, but then he was anxious he might get anxious again. To relieve his anxiety about becoming anxious he hoarded his pills.
Ironic isn’t it? The circle of treatment goes round and round.
I keep lying in bed, well, in the pull out love seat I bought from IKEA to have at my sister-s house for nights like this not thinking about the test, but how I can explain my feeling towards it.
I’m optimistic. I have great hope I will be healed. I’m also realistic. I know the messages I’m receiving from my body. I don’t appreciate them. I don’t want be realistic to be confused with pessimism. I’m not curling up in a ball and waiting to die here.
Hope for the best, prepare for the worst is my motto.
My anxiety regarding the test is normal. Running possible scenarios, outcomes, and courses of actions through my head is normal also.
It’s anticipatory grieving. I’m mentally preparing myself for any possibility so when I’m face with the reality, the evidence, I will have semi-prepared myself in my head by running through the scenario hypothetically in my head.
Anticipatory grieving his a huge issue in the loved ones of life threatening diseases. However, I’ve never read anything about the anticipatory grieving of patients for what they may lose.
I have anticipated and grieved myself to death, literally. I’ve prepared myself for all possibilities. I’ve been preparing for years know. The grieving cycle has been completed, now I jump randomly between steps in the process, no longer able to make future plans beyond my next diagnostic test.
I’m living on a whim, making plans based on how I feel day by day. I guess I could call it being free spirited, but it doesn’t feel so free spirited when your body is forcing the behavior.
I’m a free spirited planner (is this an oxymoron?). I like to have events and plans to lok forward to. My disease has robbed me of this. I have had too many disappointments to really look forward to the future with excitement and anticipation anymore.
What I do know is that no matter the outcome tomorrow I have plans and hope still. I’m intricately tied to life. I have the fighting spirit.
Xander has been asking God every night for me to be healthy for Christmas. I think this is a great timeline. I know this can happen.
Life works in mysterious ways. Events occur on their own timeline. At the very least, I am fortunate to have the reassurance that my suffering and experiences are not in vain. There is a purpose to this.
I am beginning to believe I'm affecting more than I'll ever know, positively. This is a great gift to me. Knowing I may inspire someone else, knowing sharing my experience may make someone elses battle easier makes the pain worth while.
There is a purpose for everything, eventually, I’m going to understand it. Right now, I'm going back to bed.
3 comments:
Hey Hil! I will be thinking of you today. No matter what the outcome just know that you are right when you say that you have affected many people. You have. There are so many people that are proud of you. I am here for you in any circumstance. You are strong. You are a fighter. You are an amazing woman. Positive thoughts.
Thoughts and prayers coming your way, all day today. When you feel anxious, close your eyes and envision the very big hug that is always being sent to you from hundreds of people. It will surely be calming.
Alanna
You have been on my mind all day Hil! I love you!
Nic
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