I've been holding onto this memory of me being happy. Of what that feeling actually felt like. What all the sensations were that I experienced in those "happy days". Those days before the crippling anxiety and depression that came along with it. Before the drug use to cope with the anxiety. How did I act & more importantly how did I live?
My first memories are related to my anxiety. I remember this nightmare I had back when I was 5. It was one of those nightmares where you try to wake up from (you are aware you are dreaming), but you can't wake. I remember being a child & my dad hitting my mom in the face. I remember leaving the house & staying in a hotel that night. I remember all the yelling and the aggression and abuse. I remember my mother always assuring me that she was going to leave my dad. It never happened. Despite being afraid of my father I remember crawling into bed with my mom at night when my dad worked and being afraid he was going to die. I was afraid that someone would come and kill my mother and sisters while I was asleep. I would hold onto my mother's nightgown as I feel asleep thinking that if someone was to come and kill her while I slept & then pretend to be here, sleeping in her place, I would know. I remember elementary school & hiding behind furniture so I wouldn't have to endure the fear that school brought me. I missed so much school that the school counselor had to come and physically drive me to school. I wouldn't get out of the car. The principal and counselor had to physically pull me out of the car. They had to pry my fingers off of the seat belt. I remember hiding in my closet and shutting the glass doors hoping that my dad wouldn't be able to find me. I remember Christmas day, more than one Christmas, actually, jumping out of my window in my pajamas into the snow and trying to run away. When I try to think back to my "happy" days these memories intrude on the good ones.
I remember living in constant fear. Why wasn't leaving the house, why wasn't school a "safe" place for me when my home wasn't. How come I never felt safe? I had all these dreams. So much I wanted to do and become. Now I'm paralyzed and trapped in my house with the same person that has caused me so much terror my whole life. But when I try to leave and lead a normal life, I become so distraught. The paralyzation that my home life brings is nothing compared to the terror that being in social situations bring. Why don't I feel safe anywhere? I remember feeling happy in those rare moments when I was with friends. When I forgot that my dad might yell at me any minute in front of them. Those fleeting childhood moments when everything was so pure. But, sadly my friends always ended up seeing/hearing my dad's aggression towards my family.
As I got older I was put into therapy & saw a Physiatrist. The medication didn't help much. I always seemed to be able to push through my anxiety, though. At least during my pre-teen and teenage years. Once my doctor put me on Xanax everything seemed easier. Once I found opiates the world was mine to conquer. I felt happy. I was happy, but in a drug induced happiness. Now that I have been to rehab (several times) & mental institutes (several times) you would think I would have found my "happy". I feel even farther away from that "happy" place than I have ever felt before. I want to be able to drive my car without the crippling paranoia. I want to be able to go grocery shopping or to the mall and not have to leave mid shopping session because the walls are closing in on me. I want to be able to see my friends and not come up with excuses as to why I can't go out, AGAIN. I want to be able to leave my bedroom and not feel like I am dying. I need this anxiety to dissolve. I need to be free from it.
