Exile from my own body

I am so ashamed. Soldiers who have seen things that I cannot imagine, suffering from post-traumatic stress syndrome, children horribly abused by their parents, people who have lost their jobs and can’t buy Christmas present for their children. And here I am, devastated by some crazy anxiety disorder. I have a privileged situation – a job that I love, two beautiful kids, a loving family and friends. But somehow I cannot get myself together to talk myself out of these debilitating attacks of – I don’t know what. Attacks by an insidious enemy that stalks me and seizes my body, wracking me with tingles, numbness, and terror. The panic rises, an iron vise tightens around my chest. The tingling gets worse. I try to breathe deeply, try to console myself. It isn’t real. But my head doesn’t accept that it isn’t real. It must be something terrible, nothing imaginary could feel this bad, I will lose control of my body, I am falling into pieces. I will not be able to move.

I fantasize about going out into the courtyard and screaming until the ambulance comes, they admit me to the hospital and take care of me.

I went to several doctors, but the tingling and numbness change places so that I can’t pin them down. Sometimes in across the top of my foot, sometimes my ankle goes numb, then tingling up my leg. Then the next day it is the other leg. It feels swollen but there is no visible swelling.

And then I tell myself think of Grandma – at my age having to go wait tables at Woolworth’s to make ends meet after Grandpa died, think of her having electric shock treatment, good God, for depression. What is wrong with me that I can’t pull myself together?

I am not used to living alone. This isn’t new; I was very depressed back in 1982 when I lived alone for a few months, depressed when I was so alone in my first marriage. But what is different that this has started to paint itself on my body. I pray for it go away. Let me feel seamless again, not notice my body. Please go away and leave me alone.

I have a new sympathy for madness. I never understood that madness is entirely physical – that is the very essence of it. We can’t get away because it seizes the body. I have always felt that slight disconnect of not quite fitting safely into my body, but this total alienation, this exile from myself, is new. I see pictures of myself smiling and think that was before I was sick. I want to go back. I am so ashamed of myself for falling to pieces, but I would give anything to go back.