The darkness must go down the river of nights dreaming
Flow morphia slow, let the sun and light come streaming
Into my life, into my life.
There’s a light over at the Frankenstein Place
There’s a light burning in the fireplace
There’s a light, light in the darkness of everybody’s life.
Welp the doc told me to go ahead and take some ativan every day to calm down while I get over this constant heart pounding. I’m stuck – if I exercise, the pounding gets worse and scarier. Same with confronting issues. Same with dealing with hot button topics. Same with going to work. There’s no way to cure my anxiety when I’m in the thick of it, people telling me to relax are perceived as attacking me, trying to get me to lower my guard so they can take advantage of me, steal my life resources. At least now I am aware how constantly I obsess about my problems, or what-if-that-is-a-problems, and borrowed problems (I’m worried about her) because I’m trying to cool it on the stressing and I can’t. But now thanks to these doc prescibed drugs I probably won’t even remember this journal entry!
This morning at work was unbelievable office-space style switcheroo. So the setup is, I need to speak up about many things in my life, at home, at work, in the store. I’m so meek, anxious and petrified, as well as desperate to be nice and make everyone like me, that I can never stand up for myself. I work in progressively more unacceptable conditions and I never told the people I work with I was having problems – I told my hiring agency instead, who’s supposed to be my point of contact. My coworkers weren’t the proper channels and previous attempts to be moved to a different place had been shut down and ignored. But this time, on ativan, I wrote a letter to two people in my department with some semblance of power (featured in the previous blog post). 1 hour later I had my own cubicle, with a WINDOW. I am so fucking excited. I saw LIGHT today. Natural. Light. Now my SADs will be better. Now my constant urge to scream all day will be better. Oh whew. If only I could have spoken up for myself casually and instinctually from the get go, instead of smothering my needs for months until I blew up like the Hidenberg and needed to be medicated and THEN had the balls to speak up for myself, because I finally got my frontal lobe to compromise with me via drugs. I need a valve on this thing.
Tonight I’m flying high on not shaking with fear, a sensation I haven’t felt in weeks. I’ve been having a nonstop panic attack for weeks, after months of suppressing all my unhappiness and rage into snarling seeds of anguish deep inside my brain. Ouch!