Maybe This Time

I have a new diagnosis: panic disorder with agoraphobia. That's a big, long way to say that I panic when I have to go places with lots of people or crowds. I have two new prescriptions I've started, and I'm just hoping that maybe this will be the solution I've been looking for. It seems like I've been dealing with this forever, and yet when I'm talking to my psychiatrist and telling her about my symptoms and how long this has actually been going on, it sounds like no time at all, really. I still didn't really want to go talk to her, even once I was in the waiting room awaiting my turn to go talk to her, but I knew (and still know) that it's best for me to talk to someone who can get me on the right medications and get me squared away in that department so that my counselor can do her job and so that my prayers will be more fruitful. I think my own disorder, as I now know that it is, has been making me want God so badly, for obvious reasons, but it has also made me run away from Him harder and faster than ever before. Facing God with this means I have to really look it in the face, really own up to what's going on in my head and in my heart, and really deal with it once and for all. I can fake it with friends, I can fake it with family and sometimes even with Scott, but I can't fake it with God. That's a hard thing to deal with when all you're interested in doing is hiding. It's all about hiding when I'm like this - hiding from people, hiding from me, hiding from God. The hiding brings me down, depresses me, and makes it worse....but somehow it still seems like the best solution. All of that being said, I'm hopeful that maybe the medication I'm starting now will be closer to what I need for healing.

The other morning, something really strange happened. I woke up to Scott leaning over me saying, "What? What'd you say?" over and over again. I kept repeating what I had said, and only after I had said it probably six or more times did I realize why he couldn't understand me.... I was definitely talking in my sleep in Spanish. Upon further thought on the subject, I realized I had been dreaming in Spanish for the better part of the night. What's more, once I got up and was making Scott's lunch and starting my morning routine, I was still thinking in Spanish. this wouldn't have been weird at all a couple of years ago, when you know, I spoke Spanish all the time, but I have virtually no occasion to use any Spanish speaking abilities now, so I have no clue where that came from. Weird as it was, I kinda liked it. Poor Scott was pretty confused, though. Makes for a good story!