Anxiety and not knowing it (my list of worries)
Last night I was up due to a flare. I had done way too much and was hurting. I couldn’t sleep so I was thinking a lot of things. I pondered about stuff that happened during yesterday’s PT session. I realized then that I have a shit ton of anxiety that I am not even aware of most of the time. I think about things and think often of the worse. Like my PT was telling me, I didn’t re-injure myself, that it was just the muscle being overworked because I did too many reps of the strengthening exercises she was giving me. It took her most of the time to reassure me that I was okay. I didn’t resprain my ankle. What I was feeling was the muscle hurt because of overuse. She also reassured me that I was NOT getting CRPS in that foot because I injured it.
I never knew how much anxiety I was feeling. I never do. It’s always a million thoughts and worries and last night I started writing about them in my journal and there was a lot in those three pages I wrote. I am sure if exhaustion didn’t kick in, I could have probably finished the journal off. There are only about 10 pages left and then I will start another one. I really need to write more about this because I don’t think it is going to get better otherwise. I was reading an article about anxiety and ways to reduce it. One of the things mentioned was writing in a journal. I have noticed that when I can’t sleep and write down my thoughts, whatever they are, either in my blog or journal, but mostly journal as it is pen to paper, I feel more relaxed and can often go to sleep afterwards. I had been in the habit of writing in my journal since being disabled. Sometimes I would write three times a day, between my day and night journals. I have one I take with me and write in when I am at Starbucks or have some down time between appointments. Then I have one on my bed so I will write when I get home if I am frustrated and before I want to sleep. I kind of got away from it and it was only during times I couldn’t sleep that I would write.
Thing is, I am not really aware how my thoughts are affecting my emotions and causing me to be tense. I really have a disconnect between my emotions and feeling them. Most of the time, I don’t feel anxious. I feel calm but just worried about things. Like my mother and her rehab, my upcoming pain doc appointment, being in pain, wondering what my PCP is going to do/say when I see him next, etc. I also worry about my sisters and what is going on in their lives. I have a lot of these thoughts and then dealing with my cousin last night that pissed me off because he was flipping out over the weather. Not kidding, he was cursing because it was going to rain today. I have never seen him flip out before over something so stupid. He just made me so annoyed. I knew I shouldn’t have picked up the phone.
Then I worry about my country and the assholes that are ruining it. Also because of the Supreme Court nominee, my sexual abuse stuff has been stirred up big time. I can’t seem to stop the memories and the feelings attached to them. I haven’t told my therapist this. I want to get through this pain doc appointment first. And then you have the worry thoughts of going on hormones next week. While I am thrilled about it, I am thinking of every little detail of how this shot is going to be played out. I have a few hours before I see my therapist after the nurse shows me how to do it. I kind of want to give it before the appointment but worry I won’t do it right. My biggest concern is how to extract the contents of the vial without bending the needle and not breaking the vial because the damn needle is bigger than it. I am not supposed to bring the med with me but I am so the nurse can advise me on how to do this. I will feel better if she sees how small this vial is and how big the needle is. I might be worrying for nothing (anxiety talking) but I think it is a legit concern. I have spoken to a few of my friends who were nurses before they were disabled. They say it will be fine. I would kind of feel better if I had a smaller needle so I can extract the stuff, especially the last bits to make sure I get the correct dose when the vial is almost gone. The syringe I have is okay. I can figure out how the markings and stuff. I used to be a medical assistant so know how to draw but fuck. This is not for a patient. This is for me. And I will be injecting into my muscle!! I am kind of worried about that, too. I know it is better than gels or creams but fuck. I never gave myself an IM injection before. Subcutaneous, yes. We did that in school. It was nothing. I am not afraid of needles but this one is directed toward me. UGH. Sorry, I just realized I am going on and on about this. I must be more nervous about this than anything. But hell, it is got to happen if I am want to be more masculine. I am in the wrong body. I haven’t told my mother. I am not going to because I don’t want to hear what she has to say on the matter, which I know won’t be positive. I can’t deal with her about it.
I have been listening to Mary Chapin Carpenter because she can calm me down. She has such a soothing voice. I haven’t done a thing all day. My mother made pancakes so I will have that in the morning. Maybe I will make some bacon to go with it. I haven’t had her pancakes in quite some time. Only three games left in the regular season. We play the Snakes (NY Yanks). I am hoping for at least one win in the series. Post season starts next week. It will either be Oakland or Snakes. Hoping for Oakland, sort of only because I don’t want to play the snakes!!