Protection

The anxiety has become a frequent obstacle for me.  For a few months, even about 1/2 a year, I think the medication has had it under control, panic attacks were less frequent and severe, the general worry that shadowed me, and incessant walking on eggshells feeling, has diminished.

Yet for the last week - week and a half...my mind has started to fall back into that pattern.  I feel myself subconsciously forgetting to breathe, and finally gasping as if breathing through a straw, the tingling in my fingertips, and when its at its worst, the tingling in my face as the blood drains from my head making me dizzy.  Lately, I have been building up my walls of defense, brick by brick, I shelter the fragile child from the outside world.  Your words are the glue or mortar that holds my bricks firmly.

I feel desperate, yet I am not sure why.  I blink back tears, so my children won't see.  and I rarely speak to my husband for fear of rejection or criticism.  Then comes the nausea, like a lump in the back of your throat were you can't swallow past it.  recently the nausea has become so physical, that I find myself hanging over the kitchen sink gagging.  

My newest drama, is the "cringe".  I actually find myself tensing up and holding my breathe whenever my husband opens the bedroom door to speak to me, or enters a room and says my name in that monotone parent scolding voice.  Internally I cry and beg and plead, please no more hurt, please, don't tell me what I have done wrong, or impose a new rule on me that I must follow and remember.  Please don't tell me disappointing news, or something else that will make be worry.  Don't ask me questions that you won't listen to the answers, I hate that.  And please don't give me another chore to do, I'm not going to do it right so why bother.

But outside, my response is "yes" and "ok", and I give you that blank stare as if I am listening to your every word.  When really, I'm just trying to swallow the lump in my throat or get the feeling back in my hands.

When I was younger I remember these same motions and habits.  I remember standing there, in front of the firing squad being yelled yet.  And the same blank stare, the same nods of agreement, when inside -  my brain was sounding the alarm, Like a castle pulling up their drawbridge, and archers lining the walls... my mind falls into protection mode. It shuts down my emotions, piece by piece, protecting the frail child from pain.

Each time I go "under", a small piece of me doesn't come back.  You see, depression is not always about sobbing everyday, and moping and feeling sorry for yourself.  The deepest depression is the loniliness.  Where your true self, is so far locked away from the world, so deep inside, that no one can get to you.