One of the most constant aspects of my existence in fight or flight is having days when I am running on sheer adrenaline and my heart is pounding out of my chest. It feels like anxiety sometimes, it keeps me awake other times. Sometimes I am convinced I actually am having a heart attack and my ghost will return nightly to brag about finally being right.
Today I was so productive. I moved all of the memorabilia on the Adventure Wall to another area of the living room. The task, which I had literally put off for months for fear it would take several days, took me about 30 minutes. I fit it in before taking the orange cats to the vet for their rabies boosters. After paying that bill, I came home, had lunch with Dan, and then went to Home Goods to look for the following:
- Animals with glasses art to add to our entryway
- A step stool with wider steps that I can actually step on without seeing my life flash in front of my eyes
- A floor lamp for bedtime reading
I found two of the three. For some reason Home Goods only had table lamps. When I got home, I added some labels to the Adventure Wall, tried to nap, gave up on napping (my heart was too loud), then started on dinner and made the most fantastic soup.
The entire time I am moving through my day, I am having the same internal battle that something is actually wrong with my heart vs. nothing but the usual stuff is wrong with my heart and if I try to seek medical attention I will get nurse side eyes and bill for several hundred dollars after they tell me I’m fine.
My GP recently put me on Ativan for the withdrawal anxiety. I messaged her a few days later to tell her it doesn’t seem to be doing much of anything. She responded that this is probably because I am experiencing so much stress and anxiety, the humble Ativan is not going to make a dent. Of course, because I had already filled the Ativan, I could not get another anti-anxiety medication in the same family for fear of potential abuse.
Which is fine, because I have literally lived with these symptoms for most of my life. So what’s a few more weeks? At least I know this is all down to fight or flight this time and I’m not convinced I am in the throes of mental illness.
Which is kind of better. Somehow. Let me tell myself it’s better.
For now, I have really good soup. I have my sweet husband who is somehow still sane and supporting me through this. I also have the knowledge that tomorrow is a new day and I could wake up feeling completely different.
Also, I have no known heart problems. Although I have been told my heart is slightly larger than average, but it doesn’t seem to be causing any issues. That I know of.