Two days ago was a great day, but yesterday I had intermittent spells of a racy heart and finally caved in and took a lorazepam. It made me a bit drowsy but I felt better. The whole thing really sucks shit big time. I never know when it's going to hit. Not sure if I should continue on with it as needed, see about something you take daily (after what happened with the Navane, I don't want to get addicted and be no better than one who turns to drugs and alcohol) or see the therapist again. I don't want to have to spend money on doctors and therapists that could be going to other things - things we want, things we need, savings... 

But then I got up today and an hour later my heart raced up to 125. The only good thing is that it didn’t last long this time before it quickly dropped to 99. Still, I decided a second opinion was in order. A PCP doctor is one thing, but a specialist is another. So I emailed my endo doc, told her I have a racy heart on and off and an upset stomach, and asked if my dose should be lowered or not. I also told her that my PCP suspected it could be anxiety. 

I don't doubt that there may be some anxiety hanging over me, but I can tell you one thing for sure – no amount of weight loss is worth this yucky feeling. I feel just great right now, but how will I feel in an hour from now? Or in 5 hours from now? How about tomorrow? That’s what’s making it tough to live with; the never knowing. Tom thinks I’m just super hyperaware right now and that there’s something going on in my head that’s triggering these attacks. But WHAT??? 

He doesn’t know for sure but thinks that maybe my subconscious is still afraid of pills after the OD, or maybe our 1-year anniversary here triggered it. Well, I definitely feared something would hit me with a slew of health issues once we got in here and were better off financially. He wonders if maybe I was stressed out in the back of my mind since the few good neighbors we’ve had seem to move or go bad within a year. But they haven’t, as I told Tom, and he said, “IDK, maybe your mind manifested something bad happening anyway. You have this thing with anniversaries.” 

The 25th marked 7 years in Cali and nothing bad happened that day, though, I told him, and he laughed and said, “Well, every day is an anniversary of something.” 

True. Today marks the 33rd anniversary of my 5-month stay at the Brattleboro Retreat in Vermont. I was just 15 years old and my mother was about the age I am now when she one day up and threw me away because the “experts” said it’d be great for me. Yeah, well, Brattleboro wasn’t as bad as Valleyhead, but it was plenty bad enough. They doped me up and made me feel like a real prisoner. Being myself was a definite no-no no matter how harmless it may’ve been, and in the event that I did self-harm, it was because the adults in my world were crazier than I was and they drove me to it! As even Dana said, “Sometimes one of the scariest things to growing up is realizing you were ok after all and it’s the rest of the world that’s crazy.” 

For now, I love that I can email my doctors at any time of night and day and know that I'll get an answer in 24 hours or less. No having to stay up or get up to make a phone call to a nurse who has to patch the message through and then get back to me. I will base my next decision on what she has to say. If she too, says it’s not the pills, then I guess it’s back to Dana unless I can learn to manage when my heart goes boom, boom, boom on my own.