They say if you’re gay, you’re confused. They also say if you’re bisexual, you’re confused. Lastly, they say that if you’re a lesbian, you’re still confused. My point? Those that think they have it all figured out and can assign these neat little labels and properly categorize people and the things they feel are probably the ones that are the most confused. 

Like, well… me, for example. I was so sure I had the random anxiety attacks figured out. First I thought I could slap a nice neat little label saying “levothyroxine” on these attacks and that this would be the simple and correct term for it with no other possibilities in between. Then I thought I could change or at least add a label saying “vitamin D.” Then after yesterday when I supposedly overdid my workout, even though I’m an avid rider, I thought I could add yet another label saying “overdid it.” 

Once it happened when I simply reached down to pick something up off the bathroom floor last night I realized that not only does one label/term NOT fill all, but I ran out of other possibilities to add to my list of labels unless “I’m all out of ideas” or “I give up trying to figure this out” counts. Even sitting at the computer my heart would sometimes race over 100. 

“How come my heart didn’t beat like this when I used to run?” I asked Tom, and he thinks it did. Did it? I guess it might have, but as he said, I wasn’t so hyperaware and obsessed with paying attention to it back then. 

Still, once the incident in the bathroom happened was when I officially gave up trying to narrow it down and crush it right out of my life, whatever it was. Sometimes giving up can actually be the way to success, but I think that once my fear turned to anger like it did last night, that might’ve been a turning point for me. I don’t take no shit from people and I ain’t about to take it from any of my body parts either. As Tom reminded me numerous times, the heart won’t beat faster than it needs to, fluctuations are actually a good thing from what he’s read on WebMD, doctors listened to it when my BP and pulse were high and no one ever worried about it. 

Tom said that without unemployment, though we would still get that, we’d be ok for 7-8 months if I wanted him to quit his job so we could focus more on my health and getting these anxiety attacks under control. 

No! I adamantly told him. Because if my gut instinct is right about something up there “punishing” me for finally getting what I want in life, be it any kind of a God or whatever, then that’s actually what it wants. God would LOVE to see us throw our lives away, and while our chances of ending up in a serious jam are much lower than a few years ago, it’s still risky and that would only add to my anxiety. As it is we were charged 3-fucking-hundred dollars for the paramedic call. Things add up. I thought that was free like when you call the cops, though! I guess the only time you don’t pay is if they take you to the ER and admit you. 

Today has been just the opposite of yesterday. I chill-pilled when I got up at 7am and have been fine ever since. In fact, I’ve been amazingly calm and it’s probably due to that little white pill. At this point, I don’t care anymore. I don’t care if it’s my left toe ring or my right pinky making me feel better! I’m just glad to feel relaxed for a change. If I have to take chill pills regularly, at least until I can get established with new doctors and a new medication setup, so be it. Then once I’m settled in with that I can slowly do away with the happy pills. Now, for reasons I may never know, they definitely seem to help and I appreciate having them. 

Maybe menopause really is setting in, which can have similar effects. I’ll bring all this up with my new doctor (damn, I’m gonna miss Doc C, and if only Sutter wasn’t so messed up!) Tom doesn’t think it’s any one thing and was probably a combination of the meds and other things, and realizing he’s right, I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I need to learn to live with these things because there’s no way to know for sure if they’ll ever go away on their own. I suppose that if they could start on their own, they could disappear on their own, but why??? Why did they suddenly decide to start on July 9th in the first place? What was it about that day, just one day shy of our 1-year anniversary here? 

Trying not to panic when my heart suddenly takes off galloping is hard as hell. It’s like resisting the natural urge/reflex to punch someone that’s punched you. How do you just get punched like that and just stand there without striking back? No matter who the stronger, fitter, slimmer, angrier one is, isn’t it only natural to fight back and defend yourself? Well, for me, it is very hard to resist the urge to panic when my heart races. Trying to ignore it and stay calm is damn near impossible. I don’t know why it’s so scary (an adrenaline rush?) but it just is. It’s terrifying and hard to adapt to. The only good in this shit is that it might actually make going back on meds less scary if I know that’s not the only culprit and that the bulk of it really is just random anxiety. It sure is keeping my weight down too, so no need to worry I’m going to get so big I can’t even tie my shoes. 

Tom should be heading to his own doctor’s appointment right about now. I hope he’s right when he says all they’ll do is tell him his blood pressure’s a little high and he should lose some weight. He’s going to start dieting soon. If his thyroid is ok, then it should be simple enough as long as he can stand the hunger and cravings. Hunger is more an issue with me than specific cravings, but I expect to just stay in the 140s.