This Storm Will Pass...

 

When I started sharing things from my life, and about my life, I knew I would share the good and the bad.  My favorite thing to do, is make people smile and know they are good enough and can face anything that comes their way.  If I can say or do something to help just one person, I feel like I have done something good.  Storms rage in all of us, but some can weather that storm better than others.  Some can sit in the rain and watch the waves crash and hear the thunder roll, but others have to run from the storm and seek safe shelter wherever they can.  After I experienced a traumatic event, I found myself spiraling downward at breakneck speed.  The first panic attack I can remember was when I was around 6 or 7 years old.  I was never abused as a child, and I never felt unloved.  I was always taken care of and never "needed" anything.  Of course, I wanted everything, but was never denied the necessities of life.  With that being said, I remember the night of my first attack well.  I lived in a very modest home that was built by my Daddy.  It looked like a doublewide trailer, but it was in fact an old two-bedroom singlewide trailer with two big rooms built on the front.  The two rooms were the living area and Mama and Daddy's bedroom.  I never like to sleep by myself and was so scared when I had to sleep in my room.  That is probably why I always ended up in my parents' bed.  The night of the attack, I was sleeping in my parent's bed, because I was sick and Mama wanted me to be close to her.  During the night, I started having a dream.  The dream was terrible for a little child, and just to be honest, some adults would've been disturbed by it too.  The dream was about me laying down, with a stretchy like sheet draped over my entire body.  I was pushing up with my hands, but the more I pushed the more the sheet contracted back down on top of me.  In the dream I was screaming and crying because the more I pushed, the more it smothered me.  Mama woke me up because I was screaming and waving my hands in the air.  I had just gotten a new Charlie's Angels night gown, and my aunt told me whatever I dreamed in my new gown would come true.  After I woke up that is all I could think of.  It was a terrifying thought to think that would come true.  After that night, I never recall having a dream like that again.  After growing up, the attacks started come again.  I was around 19 when I experienced fear from more frequent panic attacks.  The attacks seemed to disappear after a while, and I had peace for many years.  I would say about 20 years passed when a horrible thing happened to me (that I don't feel comfortable sharing right now).  It was bad enough to throw me into a breakdown that has never healed.  At that time, I played in a gospel band, and with the pressures of having to be "perfect" to avoid "confusion", or "Shedding a bad light on our band" was absolutely more that my mind and body could handle.  I felt like I had to walk a chalk line, and be a closed in person, because that is just what you had to do as a gospel entertainer.  Oh!  Let me correct that, we were not entertainers!!!!!!!!!  If I had a dollar for every time we had to say something that effect, I would be a rich woman.  After the incident, my mental health took a scary turn.  I was terrified, but I sought help in the form of a psychiatrist.  That in itself was a nightmare, because I had to keep it a secret because "some churches we play at might be offended because they don't believe in THOSE DOCTORS"!  I ignored the fear, and I also ignored the pressure of "offending" anybody.  I had the month chosen when I planned to take my own life, so I thought how could seeking help be bad?  The doctor was one of the best decisions I had ever made.  I was put on the right medication, and the problem seemed to pass (for a while).  The event that caused this also resolved itself, but not without long lasting trauma.  Today, I regularly visit my doctor, along with my wild and wonderful therapist.  I still have attacks, but now I know how to manage them and know the fear is real, but the situation is NOT.  I take my medicines, and I write.  I have the best support system any woman could ever dream of.  My husband is every woman's dream.  To me, when I look at him, I see a man who can do anything and protect me from the world and all of the bad things it holds. He watches constant King of the Hill episodes, but that is what show I can watch right now that feels "safe".   He never complains even though I can see it on his face he would rather watch paint dry than watch another episode.  Again, I am not perfect and still have bad days, but I know the storm will pass.  I know I won't be swept out to sea when the storm rages at its strongest.  If you are going thru a storm, please don't let go of what you hold onto.  GET HELP!  Don't listen to the people who say "those doctors" aren't real.  Don't listen when people say, "those therapists are just troublemakers and will mess you up more than help".  DO NOT listen when people tell you "You just need to pray harder, and God will take this away"!  God does listen, and his will, will be done in all aspects of your life.  Sometimes God is yelling at you, but you are too afraid of what others will think, you don't hear what he is telling you to do.  What works for me may not work for you.  I don't know everything, and I am not a doctor.  But what I do know, my storms are getting lighter and lighter.  I pray, I write, I play my fiddle, and I know what I'm scared of isn't real.  This storm will pass...... This storm will pass.....