Thursday, October 14, 2010

Paranoia. Seriously?

A weird thing has happened to me in the last few years - I've become paranoid/skittish/pessimistic. I used to be up to trying pretty much anything. Someone wanted to go out to a new place for dinner, no problem. Concert? Sure. New medicine from the doctor? got it. But now, new things scare the crap out of me. It's pretty annoying.

Let's start with locations - concert and sports venues. Superpages didn't really worry me too much because I knew that the lawn was big. I've been able to handle that. But American Airlines Center? hahaha yeah right. It was designed to have a crapload of people. So was the Ballpark. My heart races, my hands shake and my legs turn to rubber when there is any thought of going to some large place. I don't understand why. I used to go to the District Conventions (massive gathering of Jehovah's Witnesses) when I was younger, and never had a problem. There were thousands of people, and it didn't matter to me (of course I did know that I was fairly safe in a large group of JW's.)

Going to the Stars game last March was a big ordeal for me. I knew that I wanted to go, since I love hockey, and I knew Hubs would enjoy it. Plus, I got to hang out with an old friend from high school. Driving there would have freaked me out more, so we took the train. The train ride was fine, but as soon as I got off the train, there went my heart. It really wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be while we were there, and the game went great. Then, as it got really close to the end, my heart started racing again. I had seen how many people were there, and the idea of making through everyone to make it back to the train on time freaked me out. The 15 minutes it took to get on the train felt like an hour of agony. Once I got in my seat on the train, I was okay again.

We went to the Rangers game a few weeks ago. Again, I started freaking out. We got there an hour early so I wouldn't have to deal with large crowds at the entrance, and I stayed as close to Hubs as I could. I didn't leave my seat after we sat down because I didn't want to get lost - even though the bathroom was just inside from us. Leaving was scaring me, too, so we stayed until a large number of people were gone.
There are some places I've wanted to go to for a while, like Pete's Dueling Piano Bar. I've heard rave reviews, and it just sounds awesome. But don't actually try to get me out the door, because it won't happen.

Talking on the phone - anyone that has known me for a while knows I used to talk on the phone ALL THE TIME. I didn't care who I was talking to, as long as I was talking. Now I can't get on the phone. I will talk to most of my blood relatives with no problem, but I'm uncomfortable talking to Hubs  family or anyone else. This is a 180 from where I used to be - I remember talking to Drue's mom for hours when Drue couldn't talk. My hands get clammy, my hearing starts to fade, and I start trying to find any excuse to get off the phone. It's not that I don't want to talk to them, I just can't.

I'm really pessimistic lately, and again, those that know me know that it's really odd. If I start noticing bad things happen, I start counting. I'm a firm believer in "Bad things come in 3s", and I can prove that it's right. I almost didn't go to a Korn concert (my favorite band) because bad things kept happening. First - Hubs locks the keys in the car while in Flower Mound - and waits 2 hours to call me and let me know. In turn he picks me up late from work, so we rush to leave for the concert. Halfway there, Hubs realizes that he left the tickets at home. That was number 2. When we got back home I was so afraid of number 3 that I didn't want to leave. I was scared that we would get into a car accident, or Sam would get kidnapped, or something bad that I didn't want responsibility for. It took Hubs 45 minutes to calm me down and get me back in the car. I was nervous the whole night - wouldn't take my eyes off of Sam, and watched every car around us, so I could try to stop an accident before it happened. And no, that day was not the only day that bad things came in 3s, I just try not to remember the exact details, otherwise I'd obsess over it constantly.

I made a comment to my Dad last week, "No matter what I do to make good things happen, the opposite occurs." His reaction was pretty humorous, and very true. "Yeah, you do seem to be unusually Murphy-prone." I take very good care of my cars (mechanically), but the weirdest problems show up - ones that I couldn't prevent. I go to school to get my Bachelor's degree, but I'm so sick lately that I won't be able to get a job anytime soon that I can pay off my loans with.

I went to the doctor yesterday because I knew something was wrong. I've been in extreme pain lately, and pain killers wouldn't fix it. I get diagnosed with costocondritis and musculo-skeletal strain. Apparently due to my un-managed exercise-induced asthma, I never fully got over bronchitis in MAY. The excess stress put on my lungs to breathe correctly has put massive strain on my ribs and all the muscles in my back. I am on steroids to reduce the inflammation and antibiotics to get rid of the rest of the bronchitis. I was also given an inhaler to take care of my asthma. The pills were no problem - I take 18 thousand a day already, a couple more for a few days won't hurt. But the inhaler, that's another story altogether. It took me an hour to force myself to use it this morning. I'm supposed to use it every 4 hours until Sunday - then I can stop and just use it when I need it. I actually cried. I realized I didn't want to be dependent on this all my life. (I was also afraid of the taste - I kept thinking about the nasty taste of nasal spray running down my throat. YUCK!) Hubs told me I wouldn't be dependent, but I knew he was wrong. I've been trying to work out, exerciser and lose weight. The instructions on the inhaler said that if it was being used for exercise-induced asthma, that I needed to use it 15-30 minutes before I planned on exercising. That would mean using it every day. Every time I try to do something good for myself, something else goes wrong. I don't get it.

There really wasn't any reason to post this, except to get it off my chest. There's a lot more to this, but I'll post that when I'm ready to explain it properly. I don't have the money to pay a therapist listen to me, so I use this blog. I doubt anyone reads it - my husband doesn't even read it unless I ask him to. I guess I know that by putting it out here, if something happened to me, someone could go back and read what has happened to me and know that I was trying to find help.

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