Dead arm makes me think.

I woke up one morning to find that I had slept on my right arm, which had in turn fallen asleep. I took hold of it, shook it about in order to wake it up. Then I let go. It fell straight down and punched me on the nose, making me laugh. My arm was not a part of me and had a mind of its own.

This monday I had a panic attack at home, thankfully my little man was snoozing away on his nap. All of a sudden I couldn’t swallow and my throat felt like it was closing up and I thought I wouldn’t soon be able to breathe.

It was quite obvious what this was, so I managed to calm down very quickly, but my heart pounded for a good while afterwards.
Similar feeling to the time when I fainted in a party, the horrible helplessness of not being in control of yourself.

It seems that every time I come back to the same root problem, the fear of losing control. I never thought of myself as a control freak, just someone who has got a very clear idea how things should be done.

This might be one of the reasons behind this state of mind I am in now, something as mundane as sharing a living space with another person and trying to fit their ways of living around your own is stressing me out.
I am not finding this easy, on the contrary it is getting harder and harder to adjust to other people as years go by. Almost like somehow I am not myself until everyone else is away and the present moment belongs to me only.

This raises the question is it the real you what you are on the inside, or how others perceive you?

At which point my head starts to hurt and if I was the kind of person who shares photos of cute cats this would be the moment. I chose a vintage slot machine instead.

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“Begin at the beginning”, the King said gravely.

Welcome. This blog is just about me: I am 37, a mum to a little boy, self-employed designer, and I got issues.  It’s a situation totally of my own making.

Ever since I was a teenager I thought I was prone to depression (some quirks in mental instability run in the family), and with the dawn of the internet and the glorious practise of googling symptoms reinforced this idea in my head.
Which is exactly what you can do with any ailment known to man, google it and you got it.

Anxiety disorder never even crossed my mind, but now after seeing my GP a week and a bit ago and being told that is what I had it does seem that it fits perfectly to everything I have been experiencing.

I have always hated confrontation and fights, probably due to the fact that I am not very quick to think on my feet at all. So, I always lose an argument. Now it has turned into not being able to say anything at all, add to that a generic sense of worry and dread over everything, including mundane things like missing the train or the shampoo bottles left on the windowsill and you got a nice little bundle of trouble with palpitations and sweaty hands.

I haven’t yet had a proper diagnosis; I am not on drugs or therapy so floating in a nice state of limbo at present, whilst waiting for some test results to come through.

This blog is about me trying to make sense of the situation, I thought it might be interesting to write whilst all this madness is going round in my head, rather than to try to catch it once it has ceased. Which it will, sooner or later.