Funks, Fantasy, and Freedom

You're probably wondering why I named this blog what I did.  Not gonna lie, it's partially because some of the names I wanted were taken.  This happened to be a blessing in disguise.  Let me first say that I LOVE alliteration.  I also like metaphors and similes, especially when vocabulary words escape me or the connotation isn't right.  Funks, Fantasy, and Freedom basically describes how my Anxiety and Depression affect me.  Below are some explanations to some of my life.

Funks
A funk is a day where nothing is appealing, every minor mishap is a major mistake, and crying is highly probable.  Here is something I wrote a while back to describe the funk while in the final days of it: 

I struggle so much to do the simplest of tasks and small things affect me so drastically.  I question everything I think and feel.  I want to cry or react violently to every mistake I make or when things don't go the way I want them to.  Everything seems to be in such a negative light, and all I feel like doing is shutting off the world. I force myself to socialize (if only a little), I force myself to do things I'm supposed to do (sometimes), I do things to make myself laugh (watching TV does count), I go to bed early, and I have been doing other things to combat this funk.  I still want to curl up under my covers and not come out until I am guarantied a good day.  Sometimes, I wonder if anyone else notices.  Sometimes, I know when people notice, and I get angry.  

Funks can often be just days that I'm in a daze too.  I had one of those last week.  I mostly sat at my desk watching the time and wishing for a good nap or just wishing I had started talking to the ADA lady before Fall/Winter (more on that too).  Funks are the days I'm most likely to have an anxiety attack since I'm pretty much in my head all day, avoiding people.  

Anxiety Attacks

Due to a lack of vocabulary, I use two different words to describe the way my brain/body malfunctions.  One malfunction is the anxiety attack.  The anxiety attack is mild compared to a panic attack.  The anxiety attack is fear or anger in a situation that is beyond the reaction a situation calls for.  Usually, speech is difficult but not impossible, mostly because I'm about to cry.  In fact, most functions are possible.  Instead of fight or flight mode, I freeze up.  Thoughts become hazy, if someone is talking to me (especially in lecture mode), everything they said didn't even get into my ear to go out the other, and my body is tense all day.  I have an intense feeling to curl up under my desk or in my bed and not ever come out.  It can also be an all-day process.  

Panic Attack

A Panic Attack is horrific.  Here is a way I described them once: 

My panic attacks start out with intense feelings of being unwanted, insignificant, judged, or wronged. I get tunnel vision and have to leave the area immediately. I can't talk, I can't breathe, and I know it will be a few moments before my body decides to no longer function. My heart physically hurts, my face tingles, everything feels surreal. I get to a wall and crouch so I don't fall and just cry a mean, ugly, terrified and terrifying cry. Breathing is so difficult, like I only have a little first-sized ball for lung capacity. My everything hurts, I feel like I'm watching myself and trapped in that lung ball at the same time and nothing could possibly make the pain, fear, and humiliation go away. When the panic attack has run its course, my muscles feel tense, I'm exhausted like I just fought my way out of a paper bag that suffocated me. I feel intense relief that it's finally over and extreme embarrassment that it happened again and there was nothing I could do to control it, control myself. I'm exhausted and full of energy, almost manic, but I continue my day on the outside like nothing happened while I'm quietly seething because my mind and body attacked me. To me, it's ten times worse than being attacked or assaulted by another person because I couldn't do anything about it before, during, or after to prevent it, make it stop, or make sure it didn't happen to anyone else.

Panic attacks rarely have warning signs before they strike.  I could be at a conference, in a grocery store, at work, or at a party, but the circumstances seem to have no discernible pattern.   

Fantasy

Fantasy is a lot of different things.  Fantasy is the paranoia when people gossip (more than likely in my head).  It's the paranoia when someone gives me a "look" like I'm crazy, stupid, or immature(quite often in my head).  Fantasy is the thousands of "What If"s that go through my head.   It's every time I overthink or analyze a situation.  It's the stories I tell myself to get to sleep and the dreams I have at night.  It's everything in my life that isn't real or is bigger in my mind than it is in reality.  It's obsessing over a situation that happened, whether it happened last night or when I was five.  Fantasy is the bitch who started yelling at you or stopped talking to you because of something or another.

Like drugs and bipolar disorder was for the Beetles, Fantasy is a double-edged sword.  On one hand, everything above.  On the other hand, I'm great at anticipating a problem and solving it, getting organized (especially for groups), and adding details to projects that make them that much better.  Fantasy is great for my career because I can get the major stuff out of the way first and then I work on making the project better.  Fantasy is how I'm able to put together instructions for the beginningest of user and forms for universal use.  It's also how I can come up with metaphors and comparisons when I can't form a better thought.  It allows me to think about others, pushing me to do good deeds when I can, and it opens my mind to religion and spirituality that people find hard to understand when they meet me.  

Freedom

Another excerpt from something else I wrote: 

Fortunately, I finally found a doctor that doesn't dismiss my issues and we are now working to prevent my panic attacks because they are real and they were not under my control, but they will be. I am choosing the freedom to control my own mind and body, and even though it means taking pills for the rest of my life, it's worth it to know that I don't have to live with this horrible, debilitating problem.

Freedom means less attacks and lessened depressive episodes.  It includes drug therapy and now my dog as well.  With Brownie, even on my worst days, I have the ability to go to the store alone or hit up the mall with a friend.  

Freedom is also coming to grips with my mental instability.  I decided a short while ago that the anxiety is a blessing.  Granted, it is not a blessing I wanted, but it's there.  It has opened my mind to ideas that have been hard to grasp. It has taught me to understand myself a little better, and it is definitely a challenge that I must face. There are many lessons to be learned from this, and I might not always like the teaching method, but I will be a better person for it.  This revelation has allowed me to come to grips a little better with my reality.  

I'm still not at a point where I can accept the mental instability every day.  There are days when I just want to give up and fall asleep forever.  There are days where I berate myself endlessly for being too compliant or "babying" my mental condition.  It's hard to remember how much love and support I have and that it's not just me.  I am a stubborn, stubborn woman, highly independent and self-sufficient, and raised on the old-fashioned belief that you are either completely crazy or you just suck it up.  It's hard to shed the negative connotation of a mental disability, especially when it comes to your own.  I should be able to shake off the funks.  I should be able to control what goes through my head, and I definitely should be able to control my body's reactions.  I am a strong, confident woman with a great support system.  I am generous with my time and money when I can afford to be.  I am good at my job, I know more about adult shit than some, and I am pretty fucking intelligent.  Why can't I look most strangers in the eye or strike up a conversation just willy-nilly?  Why do I feel that asking for help (mental, emotional, or monetary) is a huge failure on my part?  Why do I doubt my ability to do anything when I rarely fail at things I set my mind to?  Why am I like this?  

Fear and doubt cloud my mind often, but with a lot of work, Freedom will be mine.