2009: An Anxiety Odyssey - Health Report Update

I haven't talked about my health here for a while because I didn't feel like I could open up anymore. But I wanted to talk a little about what I'm going through, mostly for my own sake, because I'm still working out how I feel about everything.

Right now, I'm at the most weight I've ever had on in my life. Well, actually, that's not true: a couple of weeks ago I went to see the doctor, and then I was at the most weight I've ever had. I've lost about four pounds since then, so I guess I've made the most infinitesimal amount of progress on that. The point is, I weigh 410 pounds. I thought I was still hovering around 370. Turns out I'm wrong.

It's scary to me. I've never weighed more than 400 before. Even just admitting that I weigh that much feels like abject failure to me. We now know for sure that I have a sleep apnea. But at least I still have low cholesterol.

This is on top of problems in my personal life. There are more substitute teachers this year than ever, and it's much, much harder for me to work. I may not be able to go back to school to finish my certification because I may not get the financial aid I need. I've developed a phobia about driving, which makes it that much more stressful for me to go anywhere (if I'm actually willing to leave the apartment, that is). We finally bit the bullet and got rid of the wife's car, so we're down to just one, and I worry a lot about only having the one car for both of us. I worry about confrontation or having to go anywhere or see anyone, about our financial problems and about my car needing new tires that I can't afford to buy. It's a massive weight on top of the 410 pounds I'm already carrying around with me.

I found this picture online last week. This is my life now. This is how I feel almost all the time. This impending sense that the earth is going to open up and swallow me in. That something terrible is lurking around the corner, waiting to spring at me. Sure, a lot of that is just life--we're not always prepared for the things that surprise us. But I have built it up so much in my head and in my heart that it makes it hard to function.

Today, I finally talked to my doctor about my anxiety. I've had anxiety issues all of my life. When I was six years old I was so afraid of aliens that I had to slam open doors in case something was hiding behind them, and I wouldn't leave the house for months without scanning the yard. I was terrified of dogs since before I can remember, until I was about 15 or 16. I'm still a little uncomfortable around animals; it took me a while just to get used to having a rabbit. I'm currently terrified that it'll start snowing soon and I'll be too crippled by panic to leave the home.

But I've never talked to a doctor about my anxiety before today. I rejected the idea of anti-anxiety medication for years. It just somehow felt like a failure. Failure to control my emotions and not let them control me. Maybe that sounds irrational, but that's how I felt.

I was surprised by our talk. I actually started crying almost immediately. I had a terrible bout of depression anxiety last night, to the point where I was considering calling a suicide line again, something I've only done once in my life (just two years ago). I looked up the numbers on the internet, but I just ended up going to bed instead. The doctor was a lot nicer than I expected; I had been worried that, because I didn't want to go on a CPAP breathing machine, he would tell me he wouldn't treat me anymore. (My cardiologist already had refused to see me anymore, back in January, for similar reasons.) He told me "Aaron, I'm still your doctor. I won't give up on you as long as you promise not to give up on yourself."

So we talked about my anxiety and my depression, and how I feel like I get locked inside myself and how in feeling like I have no control over my body or my emotions or my situation, I'm really conceding that control and given into panic. I told him about the time in 2007 when I went to the emergency room with a panic attack that I thought was a heart attack. I think that on some level the anxiety overwhelms me and, unable to deal with it, I become either panicked or depressed, and that leads to this weird sense of... not complacency, really, but this sense that it's much too late to do anything about my health, so I'm just killing time until it finally kills me.

My doctor put me on Lexapro and I'm going to go see a therapist in a couple of weeks. I think there has been a lot bottled up inside of me, and it's affected almost every aspect of my life. If this helps me to regain control over my health, my life, and my sense of self, then it's what I have to do.