I’m doing better today. My Arizona doctor — the one I loooove — didn’t have an appointment available until the 28th, but when I told her admin that the appointment was for me, she was like “Oh, hang on a second” and she gave me an appointment on her break, because she is amazing. I told her about everything that I’d been feeling lately with the panic attacks and the not sleeping and the crazy. She explained, of course, that it’s a hypomanic episode, which I already kind of knew, but it’s always good to have someone with a degree clarify for you why your head suddenly isn’t livable anymore. She prescribed some new medicine, and I’m already feeling better. I still can’t sleep worth shit, but I’m not in panic mode anymore, which is a godsend. I realized today that the panic started like a week and a half ago, which is insane. I can’t believe my body’s been under that much stress for so long. I can’t believe I didn’t see a doctor or do anything about it for that long. Sometimes I’m totally on top of that shit, and sometimes I’m just not.
I called Wiggles, too, and he said to buy a bag of oranges. He says that, when I can’t handle the panic anymore, to get one out and focus on peeling and eating it. He says it’s a “pattern interrupter.” It sounds crazy, but it can’t be crazier than I am right now. Must. Buy. Oranges. He also says I shouldn’t call them “panic attacks” or “manic episodes,” I should just call them “experiences.” I like that idea, too. Lord knows I understand the power that language choices have on our brains. And the fact that it’s so hard for me to distance myself from that language should speak even more about the importance of doing so.
I was emailing with a friend in Seattle who has similar issues with anxiety. “Don’t you sometimes wish you could have another ailment?” she asked. “Like asthma or chronic bad breath?” I laughed out loud when I read that. Would I rather have the crazy episodes or halitosis? You’d think it would be a simple question to answer, but it isn’t. I really don’t want bad breath. The crazy is what I’m used to. “We all have struggles,” my mom said to me tonight. “And, when it comes right down to it, most of us wouldn’t trade ours for someone else’s.”
To end on a good note: One of my best friends found out today that she’s going to be on the Dr. Phil show. The Dr. Freakin’ Phil Show. I don’t think I can talk much more about it until after it tapes, but OMG that’s like thisclose to knowing someone on Oprah. I’m, like, happy for myself that she’s going to be on Dr. Phil. I’m going to know someone who’s been on Dr. Phil. It’s almost like the time I sat in the audience on Rachael Ray and she handed me the plate of food she’d cooked during the episode. That was like the most famous moment in my life until now. Oh, in other news, I’m doing an appearance on a radio show in Westchester on Monday, which is basically like doing the Dr. Phil show except with 10000% less of an audience.
