Goodbye 2021 – Hello 2022

Here is to wishing for a better year.

The last couple of years has been weird. I wonder what people in past pandemics did to relieve stress from what’s going on around them. This year, I tried to erase it by dying – not on purpose of course. So I for one, am glad that the year is over && that we can start over.

But then again, I said that at the end of 2020 also.

I am going to look at it like this – unless I die, 2022 is going to be better for me. I am hoping for a few things:

I’m hoping that I can declutter my mind. The last few years I have felt like my mind is on an episode of Hoarders && I need a dumpster. I have so much going on up there that I am having trouble deciphering what the clutter is. I’m hoping that 2022 will bring me the dumpster I need && hopefully it not turn into a dumpster fire.

I’m hoping to finally either finish, begin another, but start writing again. I have wrote off and on this year, but this nothing compares to what I used to do. I can’t always blame the cluttered mind, but at the same time, if I had that dumpster, would it make any difference with my writing? I enjoy my job that I have right now but it’s not my dream. My dream includes words, pages, books – but at my rate I’m going to end up just thinking about the dream rather than going forward.

I want to get my health on track even better than I have this year. I know it’s a long, hard road but at the same time, I know I can do it. I know it’s possible for me to get ahold of the reins and fix myself. Because I know, if I don’t have my health, I will have nothing else. && I’m not quite ready to give up without a huge fight. Plus, the thought of leaving Boyfriend && The Brother alone in this world – scares me so much.

I’m hoping to find another hobby. I’m know I have writing which I enjoy immensely, but at the same time, I feel like I should have something else to occupy my time other than work – I don’t make enough at work to occupy my time 24/7. So I’m up for finding something else. I have tried sewing, coloring, painting… none of it stuck. Well, I do have cooking to fall back on, I guess, but that’s kind of in the same boat as writing. Unless I’m willing to step out of my comfort zone, that’ll never be a reality either.

I hope this next year turns out to be one of the better ones that people and myself have had in year. I hope that everyone finds what they are looking for. I hope their is laughter, and love, and learning, and exploring – I hope there is so much enlightenment that people think back to 2019, 2020 && 2021 && laugh.

Here is to the next year && the happiness that everyone deserves!

Rain in the South

I still remember…

I can still remember my first panic attack.

I was nineteen and was in the shower. My mind started wandering and I started thinking about events that may or may not happen. It was slow at first. My body started to tingle && then I started having trouble breathing. Even though I was in a cool shower, I got hot – began sweating. That’s when I freaked out && started crying.

I didn’t know what was happening because I had never experienced anything like this before. I lived with depression for many years but this… this was something different. Something I couldn’t explain && I quickly hopped out of the shower and went looking for people. Anyone.

At the time I lived with my brother & his girlfriend. They were home && I knew it, but they were in their room with the door shut. At that point, I normally don’t bother them. I wandered through the house for a few minutes && being as confused as I was I did the only thing I knew. I grabbed a banana and went to my brothers door.

Why did I grab a banana? Because food comforts me. Always has. (Which is what has gotten me into the position I am today.) I stood at his bedroom door saying his name over & over but their television was on && my brother is basically deaf in one ear. No one heard me. The crying got worse – I couldn’t see anymore.

I collapsed in the floor. Alone. I ate the banana.

I sat in the floor for a few minutes before my brother came out of his bedroom. His girlfriend at the time said she thought she had heard something so he went to figure out what it was. All he found was his sister, a complete mess, sitting in the floor in front of his bedroom door.

I ended up sleeping on the floor of his room that night. My Brother is always coming to the rescue when I’m needing someone. Every time I seem to be having a moment, whether it’s something serious or something that I’m making into a mountain – he’s there. He is the one person I know I can count on. But now – I know I have him && the Boyfriend.

My panic attacks still come && go. Not as often as they used to. I think that is mostly because of Boyfriend. He may not realize just how much he is helping my mental health, but he does. Knowing he is there, and won’t laugh at me when I’m having my moments, and knows exactly what to do.

Before him && I started dating I told him I’m complicated. I don’t mean to be, but sometimes my mind takes over and I start thinking && it ruins a lot of stuff. A lot of guys would consider me “crazy” but I’m not. Most girls that are considered crazy aren’t, just like most guys who are considered a loser really aren’t. I told him sometimes I just need someone to be there. Hold my hand. Let me cry. Boyfriend does that && has since we started dating.

I had a panic attack a few nights ago. The first thing I did was find Boyfriend && tell him what was going on. It’s taken me years to finally realize that when I’m having panic attacks I need to talk about it. If I don’t, it’s not going to get any better. I know it’s not that easy for a lot of people who suffer from them, but for me, I have to talk about it. I have to talk through it. The only times I can’t is when I’m alone && those are the ones that scare me the most. The other night once I found him I told him what was happening && he talked me down, for the most part.

It always starts slow, every time. It’s like my mind is trying to calm itself before it completely takes over. My skin tingles, like someone is poking me over && over with something sharp. I’ll rub my arms, trying to get the tingling to stop. Then I get hot. Like sitting in a sauna hot. Once I start getting hot I know there isn’t much turning back && I’m about to go head first into a panic attack. That’s when I start looking for someone so I can talk my way out of it.

It doesn’t always work. But usually does.

The other night it helped. Before dinner I had taken my blood sugar and it was 114. Then I made dinner, ate, and an hour-ish later it was at 113. I’m like, what? So I take it again thinking maybe it wasn’t enough blood. This time it was 95, Panic attack ensued. But after thinking about it I realized that I didn’t eat anything starchy, no bread – it was salmon with spaghetti squash && green beans. So of course my blood sugar isn’t going to go very high. It was a healthy dinner, but did my brain understand that?

No.

Hello Again…

A few weeks ago I was sitting in my bedroom thinking about writing when I began thinking about my blog. I pulled it up on my phone through the app and I was looking when I last posted. To my surprise, I realized I hadn’t wrote anything since December 2019. Yes! Seriously! I didn’t write a single post in 2020.

How did I go a complete year without writing anything?

I also realized, not only did I not write a post in this, but I didn’t write anything. Barely read anything && I barely found myself cooking. My three loves! Tossed to the side like a red-headed step-child. Today, while I was doing my taxes, I pulled this back up (on my laptop, this time) && decided I needed to write something. Even if it’s nothing special. About nothing. Just anything. I needed to stop by && say hello && make sure everyone knows that I am still alive.

2020 was a rough year for everyone but for me it seems 2021 is going to be the worse year of my life. Well, maybe not the whole year – I still have time for it to get better. But February of 2021, that month – that’s the one I’ll probably remember the rest of my life – what of I will have left, anyway. Okay, I shouldn’t talk like that. I should be optimistic and be happy – but right now, I’m scared && scared.

I have been ditching the doctor, not because I don’t want to go, or didn’t want to hear what they had to say. I just didn’t want to deal with it. Well, the last few weeks of January, and the early weeks of February, I just wasn’t feeling well. I chalked it up to having bronchitis, because I get it around this time of the year. But with bronchitis, I usually have a cough which I didn’t this time. I waited three weeks before I broke down && went to the doctor. Symptoms? Trouble breathing, dizzy, unable to sleep, but exhausted all the time, a feeling – when I walked – that someone was airing up my head and chest with air – then add puking, swollen legs, and just an utter feeling of crap. That was me for three weeks.

The day I finally made the doctor is the day I think it hit me that something was wrong. It was around 8 in the morning, I was trying to sleep, but I was woke up by the fact I couldn’t breathe. I got up and struggled to the restroom – when I say I struggled, I mean it. My restroom is connected to my bedroom && my bed is probably, maybe, fifty feet from the toilet. I got up from bed, walked a few steps && had to stop, because I couldn’t breathe. When I finally made it to the toilet I sat and had to breathe – I felt like a 75 year old smoker with COPD && not using their oxygen. I sat there and breathed but even sitting I was having trouble catching my breath.

I was scared. I didn’t know what was wrong but I KNEW something wasn’t right. I called the doctor && made an appointment. They said they could get me in that day around 11 in the morning && I said that was good and I would be there. Boyfriend && I drove up to the clinic – && with COViD so bad, he wasn’t able to go back into the room with me. So now I’m alone – scared, worried…. alone.

They did blood work, a COViD test (which at this point in time I had already taken this test three times at work, all with negative results), x-rays, and even gave me an IV with fluids. First they informed me that my blood sugar is over 450 which even people without diabetes knows that is bad. That’s followed by them telling me my blood pressure is at stroke level (which is what the IV of fluids is for). They go out and leave me a lone for alone for a bit, discussing what’s next. When the doctor finally came back in (which, by the way, I went to high school with this doctor && I still feel like we are too young to be doctors) && said that may have to put me in the hospital. She wanted to do one more blood test, && if it comes back the way she was thinking, I will be hospitalized.

I am in ketoacidosis.

The drive to Denton, Texas seemed extremely long (it’s only 45 minutes) when you’re being told that you have fluid around your heart and your staring down the barrel nothing but bad news. That’s all it was. Bad news after bad news. The only thing the doctor kept saying is “this isn’t a death sentence”. But in my panic attack world, it was. It was her telling me that I messed up and now I’m paying.

The truth is, seven years ago I started seeing a doctor when I was just not feeling well. I didn’t feel “bad”, but I off. Like something was wrong, but I couldn’t pin point it. He diagnosed me with high blood pressure, and “on-set” diabetes. He never, through the years, ever just bluntly said I have diabetes. He gave me medication for both which I took daily just like I was supposed to. As the years passed, however, I eventually stopped. Not because I didn’t think I needed it, but because at one point my medicine changed per the pharmacy and afterwards, it made me sick. I’m talking SICK-SICK – puking, not feeling well, not being able to do daily things && always sleeping. I eventually just stopped taking the medicine because I felt better without it. Yes, seriously, I felt better with stroke level blood pressure and blood sugar in the 400’s than taking the medicine. I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s the truth.

Once in Denton (I live in a small Oklahoma town, the doctor said that she didn’t want me in this hospital because Denton can give me better treatment and that I would do better there) we enter through the emergency room, I can’t breathe so I can’t talk and I’m trying to explain what’s going on. I’m standing there along holding an envelope with my records in it, and I can’t breathe/talk. Everyone is confused but I’m able to get enough out for them to understand what I’m needing. They go through the paperwork in the envelope and get me into a triage room. They start doing the same tests again, && I would like to point out that once again I’m tested for COViD && it’s negative. (I am tired of people raping my nose.)

I’m finally left alone in the little triage room with my thoughts, which is never a good thing. It’s how I sink into panic attacks && I had already had multiple before this. I start crying. At this point, I’m just wanting Boyfriend but he cannot come in. (Stupid COViD.) All I’m left with it my phone, which Boyfriend was sitting in the car, texting me. But I wanted him. This is making the tears && panic attack worse.

My panic attacks are usually mind controlled. I don’t know, other people’s might be too, but mine are caused my horrible thoughts. When I sink into a panic attack, I can usually be calmed down by conversations with people who I am close with. Mainly the Boyfriend && the Brother. The two of them can fix my mind by making jokes, or just changing the subject. They’ll talk me through it && I sat in the triage room alone and neither of them there to calm my nerves.

After about thirty minutes I finally tell the boyfriend to go home, that he can come back later after I am given a room – so he dropped off a bag and went home. Once I stopped the blubbering I find the remote and start flipping through the channels – I’m trying everything to calm myself. I needed to look into the future and realize that whatever they say I am going to be able to fight through it and come out better on the other side. (I know this now, then? Not so much.)

I stayed in the hospital for a week, not a long time. But in that time they took CTS scans, pictures of my heart, kidneys, bladder. I watched a lot of Friends, the Golden Girls, Diners, Drive In’s & Dives && Spongebob. In the end, after all of the tests, I’m told that I have kidney damage, && my heart beats way too slow which of course they call heart failure. Basically, my heart is supposed to beat between 50 & 75 per minute, mine – beats around 35. They readjust my medicine && give me a pill to assist my heart in beating.

I have been calling my heart sad. Which, if it’s possible for a heart to be sad, I could see mine being sad. Through everything I’ve faced in my life, I could see my heart feeling a little blue. So much death – sadness – uncontrollable things.

Basically, it’s been rough the last few weeks. A lot of changes && I can honestly say the hardest one is probably the liquid restriction I’m on. The heart doctor wants me to drink 1.5 liters or less a day. This is fine for some, but when I was drinking up to 7 gallons a day, it’s hard. Plus, I legitimately LOVE the taste of water. But the reason they want me to drink less is because my heart doesn’t beat properly && it’s not pumping the fluid out. && yes, you did read that right. I was drinking nearly seven gallons of water a day. && yes, I realize that is a lot of water. I didn’t realize I was drinking that much, but as I think about it I can see it. Why was I drinking that much? Every time I went to the doctor I was always told that I’m dehydrated && need to drink more water. I usually told them “if I drink anymore water, I’m going to drown myself”. At the time, I was always kidding, but I always added more water. I didn’t think much about it.

I basically – almost – drown myself.

I feel, right now, this may be enough words. I feel like I have been rambling on & on, && this post has goten a little big. So if you’ve made it this far, congrats && thank you. I feel like this blog will be good to keep my thoughts from straying and staying on point. When I was released from the hospital we made three goals:

Lose weight.
Get my diabetes under control.
Everything else.