Anxiety Attacks, back with a vengence

This post is not for the emotionally faint of heart. If you are a rescuer, don't read this. If you are a worrier, don't read this.

On the other hand, if you are a prayer warrior or an intercessor, feel free to dive in and do battle on my behalf.

Frankly, I am tired of asking for help. I am tired of asking for prayers. I am exhausted beyond belief. Notice the time? It's 3:42AM as I begin writing this. Daniel has to be at work tomorrow and I don't want to bother him. He deals with me enough in his waking hours. And I love him and want to give him a break so he'll stick around.

My thoughts have been irrational. Some of you already know what I am talking about. For those wondering what "irrational" means, well, let me try and explain without getting myself worked up.

Right now, I am unable to control anything in my life that is important to me. I have been unable to go to church because of severe sleep deprivation and uncontrolable violent coughing. I have been unable to do my bible studies because of complete lack of concentration. My mom's heart is not doing well and I can't help her or my dad, who is still battling cancer. They are both in their early 80's. My neighbor's chihuahua roams around outside at leisure and barks night and day. Most people would be annoyed, so I am not over-reacting, but the irrational part is when I start to cry because I can't make it stop. I find myself in the middle lane of a freeway during traffic, which I have grown up with all my life here in So Cal, and all of a sudden, I want to get out of the car because I feel trapped. No, I don't fling open the door and jump out like I want to, I just try and move across to the shoulder, and by the time I get there, I talk myself into driving "just one more exit" until I finally reach home and wonder what the heck just happened to me.

All the big things that I always trust God to handle are all of a sudden pressing on me as if I can make a difference. Rational me will pull a Dr Phil and say to myself, "well Antoniette, you are afraid for the health of your unborn baby and there are other life-changing events taking place right now. Since you have no control over them, you are trying to control the little things. Your world is spinning out of control and you are afraid that if you let go of one thing, they will all come crashing down around you. Let's take this to the Nth degree ... what would happen if one or both of your parents die? Would life go on? What would happen if you miscarry? Would life go on? And ultimately, would God still be God? Would God still be worthy of all the glory?"

My appropriate response, and heartfelt truth of my existence is a firm and unshakable "YES!" When I sit and take everything to the extreme and play it all out, I know that I know that the Lord is in control. It calms me and soothes me. Problem being: when I am in the middle of a panic attack, when the hormones of pregnancy and perimenopause are raging in my already weakened system, I can't think rational. All I think is I need to get out. Out of the middle lane of the freeway, out of my house, off the ride ... I need to run to the nearest exit and see the light of day. I need to breathe.

I have spent years informally studying people as they sat in my chair while I did hair. I have listened to and counseled hundreds of people and accurately pinpointed issues in their lives and been able to guide many to Christ and help them overcome what seemed to them insurmountable hurdles. Yet, here I am, self-diagnosing and trying to self-counsel with all the wisdom and experience I have gained, and I can't even get myself to stop obsessing over trivial things that are beyond my control. I can't shake the creepy, crawly skin on my back and need to scream as my head swirls with thoughts of escaping this tortured body and soul that seemingly overtake my spirit. I am not talking suicide here, I love my life. I have an amazing life and I know it. I am talking about the torture stopping ... escaping the torture. Like, my physical and emotional circumstances are an ulgy, scary movie with the volume turned up WAY TOO LOUD and all I want to do is run out of the theatre and take a deep sigh of relief. I don't want to escape *me* ... I just want to escape the pressure that is overtaking me.

I love my order.

I miss it.

Maybe God is preparing me to let go of it completely and begin a new way of life - a flexible way that is better for the mental health of our baby. I want to embrace it. I swear, if this is what God wants, I want to LOVE it with all my heart.

I am tired of wondering if I will see a dead baby on the next ultrasound. I am tired of feeling so much guilt every time I cough thinking,"was this it? did I finally rupture the placenta a kill my baby? How will Daniel ever forgive me?"

Are those such irrational thoughts?

God help me.

I totally understand if all of you reading just want to stay away from me. I totally and completely understand. Part of me wants to be left alone ... to not hear trivial stories about things that will just add to the already static-filled recesses of my mind. The other part craves fellowship. Deep, meaningful conversations about God's goodness and grace. Even Daniel, who people think of as my own personal pastor, isn't capable of 24/7 Jesus edification.

Please, let me just ask you to pray for me. I have had a horrible first trimester and just as it was coming to an end and I was feeling some emotional relief, my bronchtis hit. Well, now that I am on my 4th week of unstoppable coughing, my emotions are being taxed and I can't afford the interest. I am at my wits end. I just want to be distracted ... to not think about if today will involve a trip to emergency for me or my parents. I want to be like every other person out there who has successfully delivered children. I want to be able to just "be" ... I can't even describe what I imagine *peace* to feel like right now, because I can't get to the *relief* stage.

This isn't some random, middle-of-the-night rant ... for now, this is full-time, all the time me.

And it's exhausting.

It's crippling.

It's literally unbearable.

Okay soldiers ... the battle begins ...