Sunday, September 2, 2012

High Dives and un fluffy pillows

I'm deathly afraid of heights. One nightmare that keeps playing over and over in my head is a true account, yet I am dreaming about it almost nightly. Growing up my sister and I were very close to a neighbor, one of the nicest widows you would ever want to meet. She was considered family.

In the summertime she joined the local swim club and my sister and I would go with her for the afternoon. It was a treat. My sister was fearless. She was also athletic. She climbed up to the high dive and jumped. I preferred the low dive or even better, just reading a book under the shade of a tree. (And you want to know why the kids thought you were strange? Could that be it?)

One day I was double dog dared to jump off the high dive by my sister. So I did. Or tried to. I went up it, no problem. It wasn't until I was looking down, I suffered my first attack of vertigo. I turned around as if to climb back down, but there was a whole line of kids waiting to jump in that cool water. I had to. It was the scariest thing I have ever did with my life.

In a lot of ways it still is.

The last six years of my life, I have been paralyzed with fear as I look down on the pool. I can't jump, I can't go down. I'm just on the high dive scared as if death was near. Frozen. I'm not making any progress, but I am not failing. I just am stagnant. I just am breathing, but I am not living.

I am paralyzed.

Let's put it in another way. I'm stuck in my life. I'm not happy where I am right now. I know what to do to fix it but I can't take the first steps. Once again, I am cursed with a depression so severe I can barely get out of bed to do anything but use the toilet or feed the cat. I just don't see a point to get out of the bed.

Through my blinds I can see some of the children that live in the apartment complex playing a make-shift game of soccer in the parking lot. They are laughing and smiling as they chase the black and white ball, happy that school hasn't started, happy to be alive.

I lie in bed, surrounded by un-fluffed pillows and wish I was that eager. Wish I was that happy. I haven't been. Not in almost a decade. Let's face it. The last six years, I am not even living. I am existing. It's my heart that's beating because the primal brain is telling it to beat, my lungs are breathing because my brain is telling them to do that. Every day when I go to sleep I wish I could die in my sleep. Of course I don't. I don't have the energy to do anything other than stay in bed and sleep.

Was this the reason I developed agoraphobia? Did the depression transmogrify to something more serious?

I should know better. I'm too old for all this nonsense. Still I cannot move. I can't leave the apartment. I don't want to leave the bed.

I want nothing more to have the good fairy wave her wand and i will be cured. i can get out of bed, and go back to the land of the living.

Good fairies don't exist. I can't get better like that. I got to do the work. I have the tools, I know the steps.

I just can't get out of bed.

Today is my birthday. It's the birthday I've been dreading for the last month or so. All I know is I can't have another six years of existing not living. I need to start living, or if I can't get off the proverbial pot, I will start dying.

I just hope this birthday year things will get better. I'm sick and tired of waiting on the high dive to find the courage to jump. I have to find the courage or someone has to push me.


krystal lynn said...

I went through similar feelings about 10 years or so ago. It can get better, I promise you that. But, and forgive me for being so bold as to say this, you have to get out of bed whether you feel like it or not. Fake it till you make it. Get out of bed, eat something and take a walk. Even if it is just around your home till you can open the door and get out. I didn't feel like it either, I didn't even want to brush my teeth or get dressed. But laying in bed or on the sofa all day only made it worse for me. It took awhile and I know it can be discouraging but please do it. I have not read alot of your blog yet, but do you have a doctor? I did not tell my doctor how I felt and I regret that, and I didn't want to take medication because I thought it was a crutch but It really did help me. I hope you can fight this and feel better.

Ruth said...

Like Krystal, I have done it, 7 years to go from what I called life zero to living. Baby steps. Simple changes like Today I got up and got dressed... Good day. I noticed that I beat myself up more over my depression than anyone else. It is hard, I believe you can do it. Hugs to you.

Anonymous said...

I am worried about you after reading this post. I have been exactly where you are, for years. I almost didn't make it. But I did. I finally forced myself to get up. I went to a doctor. I was found to have low thyroid and anemia, in addition to my severe PTSD and depression. The thyroid medicine and getting my iron back up helped a lot. Getting on the right antidepressant helped even more. First, though, I had a terrible reaction to zoloft. It has taken me several tries, and a lot of miserable years trying not to take any medication, to finally find an antidepressant that really does make me feel... like me. Healthy me.

anxious girl said...

Phobias and fears can esculate into other issues such as depression and agoraphobia, my anxiety and fears esculated into PTSD, agoraphobia, depression, and OCD. But with little steps you can get better, please know you are not alone, there are surport groups on facebook, you can have a happy life even tho your fear of heights, as long as your determined xx

aurevoir said...

hi there I am going through these illness as well. Just writting my first blog we'll see how it goes. Hope it all works out for you feel free to contact me =)

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