Fight Or Flight

I grew up in a house with doors pulled off their hinges, broken vases and food on the ceiling.  My husbands father was a pastor and there were no harsh words in his family.  He could never deal with my depression, the most he would do is open the bedroom door and ask if I was better yet.  When I emerged there would be nothing said about the episode, a quiet embarrassment between us.  After twenty years of this I am finally diagnosed with ptsd and enter therapy.  Then the anxiety starts.  Like the tide it comes in and pulls me away.

I work on anger management, keeping my voice steady and even, no breaking of glass which always helps the situation or so I think.  I like to clear items off a shelf for dramatic effect.  But I hold myself steady.  I make improvements on my over achieving attitude.  I touch my husband more.  We have great, tumbling sex.  Then one day he tells me he is moving out to find himself. 

This triggers an attack of what I have always feared - abandonment.  This is the first time I understand the 'fight or flight response'.  Since I can't yell or scream to release the tension my body goes into adreline overdrive and I cannot help myself - I have to run, I have no choice in the matter.  I jump in the car with no idea where I am going and drive across the Mississippi River and don't stop until I get to the Missouri River.  The next day I drive to the Badlands and hike, the only person there.  I end up at Mount Rushmore, the only person there.  I stay in a huge hotel, the only person there.

I had no idea of where I was going or what I was going to do.  I just liked the idea of a big sky and not many people.  My son called me and convinced me to return home.  Now I am in an apartment all by myself, unable to step outside because of overwhelming anxiety.  A two block walk to the gym takes me all morning to work up to.  It took me two hours to work up the courage to go to Walgreens to pick up a prescription and an hour to recover from the trip.  My heart beats so fast and strong I can't breathe.  I feel like a caged beast, pacing, jumpy.  The calmest part of my day is the five seconds when I wake up before discovering I have a whole day to live through.  Then the anxiety set in like a iron cloak I have to put on as I struggle to get out of bed.  Agian.