Let me tell you a little more about me

Ok, so I told you I was going to tell you everything, warts 'n' all, and I will. I'm not going to delve deep into everything now because there will be a time and a place for all of that and it's not here. All I'll write is what I'm thinking now. 

So, as previously mentioned, I panicked today. My first ever bout of panic came about 7 or 8 months ago, and lasted for 3 months, so I haven't been out of it all that long. I should explain, people panic because they feel they are in potentially dangerous situations, or they are confronted by a certain phobia, but the reason that I panic is not at all clear to me. It seems to be that panic occurs to me when I am entering a new, better phase in life. The last time it happened, I had broken up with a boyfriend I had been with for 3 years, and we had lived together for a year and a half. It was barely a happy relationship, and by the end of it we were both drinking inordinate amounts of alcohol and talking to each-other only when strictly necessary. I had been stuck in a severe depression for a year, and had just lost all hope of ever being happy ever again. I was also addicted to drugs, that's important to mention. Cocaine was my poison, because it made me feel very confident and arrogant and self-assured, and I had forgotten how to feel these things alone. I was feeling like I needed to be saved, and sure enough I was. In typical fairy-tale fashion, a man came into my life whom I instantly fell in love with, and who fell in love with me. It was clear within hours of meeting that we were obviously made for each-other, and the love we share together still is stronger than any love I have ever experienced. So I met him, and my life picked up. Me and my boyfriend broke up, and I spent time with this other man. It wasn't long before we were a couple, and happy. My life started to take shape, I made plans to move out of the house I had been sharing with my ex-boyfriend (a putrid, rotting place that rained in the kitchen and had an ever hanging scent of dirt and grime and stagnant water) and people even made comments that I had "blossomed" since meeting my new boyfriend, people even said "we're so glad to have you back". 

It was at this time that panic first set in, and I didn't even know what it was. I was at an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting (I lied about this to my new boyfriend. I told him I was at group.) and I had been given some nasty antidepressants called Venlafaxine (but the generic name is Effexor XR) after Fluoxetine and Citalopram failed to work. After 3 hours or so of taking my capsule, I felt the room start to spin and a horrible, bitter taste wouldn't leave my throat. My heart was actually pounding, like a heart attack, and I felt like I could pass out at any second. My fellow alcoholics ran to me when they saw that I was struggling, and an ambulance was called. This is what happens with a lot of first-time panic attacks - it feels so much like one is dying, that one will use the emergency services as the first port of call. 

This persisted, and I was told to continue the Effexor (I didn't, of course). I developed Panic Disorder over this time, and was on Buspirone (Buspar) for 3 months. Advice to those considering Buspar (especially our friends in America who have to pay extortionate amounts for medications) - DON'T take it. Not because it is damaging, but because it simply doesn't work. 

Every now and then I'd be given Diazepam (Valium) to give me some respite and it sort of worked at times, but usually there'd be no let up. The only thing that worked was Cognitive Behavioural Therapy. You learn to change your ways of thinking, because when you're anxious, you have a negative way of thinking and you can teach yourself to think normally again. It's that that got me out of panic the first time, and I remember the relief I felt when I had gone a week without panic, and the joy I felt when I felt myself having the start of a panic attack, and got my own way out of it. 

Since then I moved in with friends, and then moved in with my Mother for a few months, and now - finally - me and my boyfriend have found a little flat together and this is where we live now. We moved in a week ago, and it is only now that panic is rearing its ugly head again. Yesterday it was a panic attack related to me burning the dinner. I was too hot in the kitchen and felt dizzy, and I was making indian food and, as I am of Kashmiri heritage, it is important for me that I can cook this competently. I ran to the bedroom and fell onto the bed, and then went to the bathroom and threw water all over my face to cool down. Today, it happened because me, my boyfriend and his parents were about to go shopping in Ikea, and somehow I thought "NO, I CAN'T POSSIBLY GO TO IKEA! I AM IN A CAR AND WE ARE GOING MILES AWAY FROM WHERE I LIVE! WHAT IF SOMETHING BAD HAPPENS? NO NO NO NO!" and I got out the car, and ran inside the flat. He understands, and so do his parents. I'm sure they must think "Why couldn't he have found a nice, normal girlfriend?", but they are sympathetic. So, that's where they are now, and that's why I'm writing this blog. Panic has made me stay at home and watch Come Dine With Me repeats, and create a blog. 

Introduction

So, it's taken me years and years but - in a fit of boredom and desperation - I have set up my very own blog. I also spent a good half-a-hour on Facebook, and played on Twitter, so you can really understand my boredom. 

I am bored, because I am at home alone, in the flat that me and my boyfriend share, and the reason I am alone is due to Panic. Let me make this clear - I am a girl of many intricate mindsets, and I can reel off a list of mental disorders I have been diagnosed with as long as your arm (however, as anyone who has been caught up in the mental health system will know, your diagnosis is ever-changing). Right now, I think we can settle with Schizoaffective Disorder, with Borderline Personality disorder. Both of these disorders come with anxiety, and today anxiety came and shook me, fucked up my heartbeat and make me shake. Some describe these things when they are in love, but I can assure you that panic is not at ALL pleasant. 

I suppose the reason I'm really writing this blog is because I really feel like I need an outlet. My close friends know about my various mental complications, and my very very very close friends know the reasons why I am like this, but I really just would sometimes like a medium through which I can spill it all out. It's one thing talking to friends, but everyone knows that friends - to a point - can get bored. Hopefully, one day, someone might stumble across this blog and somehow relate to it and feel a bit better about themselves. I plan to be brutal, too. I'm going to be talking about medications, therapies, up days and down days. There's nothing I'm going to shirk from. Besides, I haven't given my name so I needn't worry too much ;)