Thursday, September 25, 2008
On Monday morning while I was preparing for my Tuesday classes before I had to leave for Batam that night, I had a major panic attack. It was catastrophic because my anxiety ended up lasting pretty much for two days or more. When it happened I tried not to hyperventilate, lest I faint, by doing some Mona-style deep breathing. I called J, who asked me to rest and not think about Batam for a while, to read a book instead. I picked up an Archie comic, took a X*anax, had a cig, and then when I calmed down, I realised I couldn't talk.
I would have called my doctor immediately but even if I did I wouldn't have any speech ability to explain anything over the phone.
I waited for J's meeting which was nearby to be over, and then he came over and called Dr. K for me, explaining the situation according to what I had written on paper. I was barely speaking above a whisper, which even then caused me great amount of effort. Dr. K prescribed me to take a dose of 2 X*anaxes. When I came to, I regained my voice.
Obviously, I couldn't make it to Batam this week.
J scheduled an outpatient appointment for me at the hospital the very next morning. By then, I was able to talk and move, but my chest hurt. Like it does after I strain my chest muscles after playing, say ball games or lifting too much weights.
I told Dr. that I suddenly had an information overload in my brain and then the attack just started. Even though I probably would have been able to do my work on time. Or even if I hadn't prepared myself up to the standards I wanted, I would have been able to do teach the classes okay if I had gone to teach just the same. Dr. gave me beta-blockers to help me function in doing my work so I wouldn't get an attack the next time I am trying to do my work.
While I am now resting, my depression has gone back to normal: I resumed my fits of crying for no reason or at the slightest emotional disturbance. I have become unsociable, cut myself off online communication, and resumed sleeping a lot. My room is in a mess. Last night I cried while watching OC online, not even because it was a sad episode; I was merely waiting for it to upload. J woke up and comforted me, but I was in a mildly catatonic state, not talking, only answering yes-and-no answers, filled with I-don't-knows. I felt like my tears were coming right from the depths of whatever is left of my soul. I took my usual nightly meds, and more X*anax, had a cigarette, and tried to sleep, crying onto J's face while he waited for me to calm down. Then the worst of the night was over.
I know I shouldn't think about giving up my career that has barely restarted, but while I am away out of the country, not being able to talk to J (phone bills hit the roof already, and no internet therefore no Skype), and my mom officially moving back to JB, it is too much loss to take, accompanied by my serious lack of incompetence at work. I feel loveless, alone, and hugely incompetent. I seriously don't think I can do this job, but I am trying anyway, every day, every week. Despite the fact that I truly believe I will not do an excellent job. I am like a machine that still tries to run even thought its internal system has already failed and is still undergoing inconclusive and extremely slow, possibly hopeless, repairs.
I am beginning to hear things in my head, not audible voices, more like whispers in winds of every direction. I say things like, I want to sleep on the outside of the bed near the door, so I know when people go out I will know, even though there is only J in the room. I feel like screaming so much, but restraint and concern for my neighbours stop me. I feel like dying because I will never get well, killing me would be an ease on everyone's time and finances.
I just want to rest. I don't know how long I will take.