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Thursday, October 24, 2013

The Door

The door.

An unassuming object most people take for granted.

They walk out that door like it is nothing at all, like it is not the barrier between them and all the terrible possibilities out there.

Most of the time I feel the same but not when certain things flare up in my head. Not when the PMDD is taking hold of my logic and reason and strangling the life out of it. Not today.

It started off slowly today, woke up feeling fine, sent the boy to school and then started thinking about things I needed to do today. Help a friend, run by the store, the school carnival tonight; all went from commitments I had made to traps that had been laid to inflict psychological torture on me. My heart started racing, head spinning and thoughts swirled of all the scary, dangerous things that could happen if I went out there. Out there into the unknown.

I could be in an accident on the way.

Now when a normal person has that thought it is just that, a thought. A string of words with meaning that symbolize a fear of a possibility. They can choose to focus on that thought or let it go.

That is not what this is.

With PMDD that thought is a vivid, sensory filled experience of being in an accident. I experience a moment of the emotional trauma, of the shock and pain, and the terror that occurs in that accident. Adrenaline surges, heart races, cortisol is pumped into my system and I begin to feel sick. Shaking, weak, fighting the visions of my own blood on the windshield, I go as far away from that door as I can.

Looking at it somehow brings the thoughts faster. My very existence is threatened if I touch that handle.

I retreat to my room where I take the clothes I had just put on back off and put on my biggest, fluffiest robe. After texting my friend to cancel plans and deciding that maybe one roll of toilet paper will last another day, I climb back into bed. Back where I am safe.

The thoughts fade, the anxiety softens and the exhaustion from the adrenaline rush sets in. Despite having only been awake for two hours after a ten hour sleep, I drift away. I drift to a place where my illness doesn't exist and things in my head are peaceful.

After a few hours my body just won't let me stay there, I have to wake. Having lost most of the day to this incident I feel defeated and unmotivated to try again. So, I sit here. I try to make myself busy.

And try to not look at that door until I absolutely have to face it.

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