Another day, another diagnosis

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On Monday, I was discharged from inpatient care. Again. This time, to get me off of a new medication that just didn't react well for me.

Topamax is a great medication, I'm sure. But for me, I noticed my anxiety levels spike, and I began to have severe panic attacks daily. On my last day of IOP (intensive outpatient program) at the hospital, I was taken to an intake assessment room and admitted to inpatient care involuntarily. I was a mess. I had been up since 3:30AM checking my stove obsessively to be sure that it was off. I had to call my boyfriend while I was driving to stay distracted and avoid a panic attack on the way to IOP that morning. I felt like I was completely out of control, and I couldn't think straight. My thoughts were a million miles an hour, and none of them made sense.

I met some truly amazing people over the 5 days I spent there, though. I wasn't happy about being "trapped" and "controlled" so close to my return to work date, but I was in good hands, and I am thankful that I was in a safe environment to get that medication out of my system. I built a friend group around me there that I am so grateful for, as they kept me sane and safe, and listened to me complain about the most annoying patients to them without ever getting mad at me for it. The jokes were endless, and the bond was strong.

I hope these new friends continue to thrive in the "real world", as I know each of them are capable of it.

Along with this time of patience and growth, I also gained a new diagnosis. One that makes sense and seems so obvious, yet I never really claimed previously.

I have PTSD,

It makes sense. The panic attacks make sense. The oppressive feelings I'm overwhelmed by when I go to certain places now make sense. I'm easily startled. I shut down and shut out if I feel cornered or overpowered. I've lived through a lot of trauma. I don't remember most of my childhood, as I've just found it's easier to skim over it than to remember the pain of it all. I lived in fear for a long time. I also lived in defiance. There is a strong, defiant little girl buried deep down underneath all of my cognitive distortions and masks. She is angry. She wants to be freed. She wants to live her life and grieve her childhood. She wants to be valued. She wants to be heard.

I'm finally listening.

I hear her. I will give her the voice I could never seem to accept that she needed.

One of the things I learned a bit more about while I was there was internal family systems. Google it. I found it to be so enlightening and helpful. I was able to identify that angry little girl in me as an exile that I have shunned for so long. I wonder how many others there are in my mind? How many pieces of me have I locked away?

Just you wait until my therapist hears about this.

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