For most the simple things like going out to the shops is no big drama, for me on the other hand, not only do I have this procrastination thing down to a fine art, the entire going out of my safety zone is something that I dread.
I am not exactly sure when the whole safety of locking me within the confines of my own four walls happened.
In fact I can’t remember how I used to be way back when I could class myself as whatever normal is, and just go out without the worry hanging over my shoulder of impending doom, yet not quite knowing what the impending doom was that weighed so heavy on me as I dragged it around my neck like a ball and chain.
Yet somehow this ball and chain grew heavier over time, to the point where the girl who used to light up a room when she walked in, turned into being the girl who made the lights dim.
No longer the light of the party the laugh of the group and far from the social butterfly I once was, I have somehow allowed the familiarity of my routine become the jail that confides me within it.
The doctors call it acute agoraphobia, to me that kind of sounds like some kind of funky name for a spider, however agoraphobia is far from any 8 legged insect, it’s a life sentence without the trial first.
Hence how I became the queen and I mean the number one in this world procrastinator.
In a world of organised chaos that somehow I seem to function within, and manage to get most of my work and god knows what else actually done, I have also managed to become a prisoner without realising just how much of a life sentence I had.
For me life is safe when I go the same way to a certain shop, when I have my routine and do what I do as I do it, should anything come between my daily rituals and routine, which is unexpected, it throws out my entire sense of self.
Sometimes even now I will find myself talking out loud to myself telling myself ‘I am ok, I can breathe’ as I somehow focus on the inhale exhale side of staying above ahead of and the hell away from one of those god damn panic attacks.
Most of the time from the outside looking in it would appear that I am together and organised, yet the reality is very different, yes I have an organised mess that I do know my way around, when something is moved, no matter how little the object may be, I know instantly someone has been pissing around with my things.
Finally after years of cocktails and potion’s I have finally levelled out on my medications, therefore this significantly reduces the seizures side of things for me, which I am thankful for, and manages the panic side of shit for me so long as I assist it from time to time, and yes medication for that good old adhd, crossed with god damn narcolepsy, what the hell happened?
One minute I was fine, the next minute I was a shaking spewing mess, waking up on the floor in public, with eyes staring at me from all over.
None the less, what is simply is, as I have learned to choke it down, and keep moving through life.
Although my work involves working with a lot of people from all kinds of backgrounds, cultures and beliefs, it’s still somehow within my safety zone, therefore I don’t really become that bothered when having to deal with the day-to-day shit, it’s just part of my everyday world now I guess.
But when I am faced with a situation of being not only out of my safety zone, but in the public world, it can get slightly overwhelming, as my heart begins to race, my blood begins to pump, I lose any and all focus on what I am doing, and just want to leave wherever I am and leave right that very second.
Hence why I avoid going into shopping centres crows, pubs and out in general to anywhere that I do not class as my safety zone.
For people out there who don’t suffer from any form of anxiety panic disorders and agoraphobia good on you, is all I have to add with a giant thumbs fucking up, you have no idea how lucky you are.
I say that without sarcasm too by the way.
We take it for granted how the things we see as small even insignificant can, and do change our entire world when they rock it, walking around telling ourselves that this would never happen to us, no way no fucking how, but one day that day nobody expects, out of nowhere, like being hit by a fucking bus, it happens and it happens to you.
For me the since 2003 I have fought with demons I would never have been able to imagine existed much less could actually touch my world, come into my life, screw it all up into a ball and kick it around playing football with me.
However that football team of darkness did come into my life, changing it forever.
I wanted to even tried to lay down and die, I went out on some hell benders and I survived the bloody things, which at the time pissed me off to no end.
The doctors all wanted to cut into my head like a coconut, which let me assure you was not going to and never will happen, and the prognosis from all the butchers out there was similar, they all tried to use their scare tactics and their statistics on my case, not once stopping to think hang on a minute, this is a person not a fucking number her case is unique, and no text-book seems to have any answers for this kind of physical injury that has resulted in such a delay of side effects in any human on earth.
No they couldn’t or maybe wouldn’t go outside their fucking boxes to see that I was not just another number or another epileptic with a brain acquired injury from years before, that somehow resulted in some stupid malformation growths that actually functioned, as opposed to what they were and are supposed to do, which is to actually cause a stroke, get blocked and basically similar to dementure and altzhimers calcify the part of your brain that they affect.
Well mine thankfully function; somehow my brain rerouted the blow flow to work with not against this ugly-looking worm like things that continue to grow within my brain, thank you very much to a fractured skull.
The effects of these stupid things well they could be worse, as I keep going day by day, and continue to prove those scientific freak doctors wrong, fuck tell me I would have no long-term memory if I made it to the age of 30, nor would I be coherent without a shunt being placed into my head, they wrote me off when I said no thanks, I choose the medication trail.
Each quack the same, each one stating that medication would only work potentially short-term, if at all, without surgery well I would be lucky to see the age of 30.
I took my chances, fuck what they said, that voice in my head screamed at me no surgery, so I stuck to the voices advice, today at the age of 36, here I am, still typing, driving, walking, forcing myself to go out of my safety zone, and working fulltime hours plus, with a better memory both long and short-term than I have had in my entire life. I have concluded that whilst the text books may be great paper weights, it’s about time the doctors out there updated and caught up with the world, because those books are out-dated and often misguiding.