The Truth of the matter

(This was actually written months ago, but only posting now as I just started this blog)

I like to act all strong about my illness. I want to be inspirational. I don't want my loved ones to see me break down and cry. I don't want to scare them. I want to pretend that it's just some mild thing that I'll get over.

But it's not. I still don't have a proper diagnosis for what's physically wrong with me. But I can tell you of the emotional stress and the mental problems that have arisen from this. Now why would I do that when I want everyone to think I'm fine and dandy? Because maybe then I truly will be inspirational.

I have bipolar disorder, as many of my older followers know. In the past 4 years, I have made huge strides in coping with it and taking an active role in society. I was working, driving, dealing with stress and crowds like a normal person. The anxiety attacks were few and far between. The mood swings were less violent.

But then I got sick almost 2 years ago. It started out with a long night of hugging the toilet. Now what you may not know is that suffer from emetophobia. It's a severe fear of vomit, vomiting, ect. I can't see it, hear it, do it. Won't watch it on tv. Just talking about it makes me shaky. Before this incident, I had gone 11 years without throwing up. 11!

I was more or less traumatized and couldn't eat or go out for a week and lost 15lbs. I eventually had to go back to work so I sucked it up, popped a few xanax and anti-nausea meds and got on with it. But then it started affecting my work. Being a cashier, it's not like you can say to your line of customers "Oh excuse me, I feel queasy" and go to the bathroom. But one day, I had to do that. I told my boss I had to go home and I crawled into my car, shaking and crying. I wasn't having an anxiety attack. It was an all out panic attack. I felt like dying. I don't remember the drive home at all.

That was pretty much the beginning of the end. I couldn't go back. I got medical leave, started seeing doctors. They all scratched their heads in confusion. I had an appointment with a GI doctor (for my stomach) 2 days before my health insurance ended. 2 days before I would lose my job as my medical leave was up. That doctor called me and said "hey we don't take your insurance, can we reschedule you next month with someone else?" Not possible. And that's where my tests and doctor head scratching ended.

I also feel it's where my life as I knew it ended too.

I fear leaving my house. I fear being alone in a store and getting sick and panicky. Alone. How do I get home? What will happen? Will I faint and smack my head? Will I puke in the middle of the store? Another huge fear of mine btw. I don't drive myself out of my "safe zone." My safe zone is close enough that I know I can make it home safely in case something happens. Anything outside of my zone, and I need a ride. I will literally burst into tears if someone asks me to go somewhere outside of this zone. My mom has to take me grocery shopping once a week. I have no social life.

The nausea and panic happens at home too. But at least at home, I can hop in the shower, take my meds (which make me too sleepy to drive btw so I can't take them when I'm out) and scream and cry if I need to without people staring at me.

Today, I tried to go to the pharmacy myself. A place I've been to so often that they know me by my first name. I was in line and suddenly the nausea hit. The panic followed. My vision blurred, my heart rate sped, my arms and legs shook violently. I threw my almost purchases on a shelf and ran outside. Ran for my car. I shook. I cried. I gagged. I broke apart.

A trip to the pharmacy brought me to my knees. This is my reality. This is my daily struggle. I've applied for some government help in the healthcare department. I am waiting to hear about my application. I pray with all I have that I get it. I need to start seeing doctors again. I need to get my life back together.

This is the truth of the matter. If you read this far, I thank you. I don't want to hide this anymore. I am human. We all are. We have our struggles. It's killing me inside, but I will still get up each day. I will still keep trying to live some sort of life in spite of this. I will fall to my knees. I will break. But I will get back up again. There is no other option.