Haven’t published in a while – been physically really sick.
I was diagnosed with an ulcerative colitis at the age of 14. It has given me peace of mind for many long years until at some point it became evident that it would act up and flare in response to severe stress.
So coming out of an intense period of panic attacks, heightened anxiety, changes in meds etc I can’t say I didn’t expect it to strike again – only 6 months after my previous flare.
And so here I am, battling a different battle: bad cramping, intense sweating from the pain of cramps, vomiting out of pain and struggling with many day by day tasks.
I’m on 75mg of cortisone daily + enemas at night.
I haven’t gotten worse but haven’t gotten better either.
One positive thought that struck my mind yesterday is that everything comes for a reason. After leaving my father in Sicily, I was very anxious at the thought of not having my safe place to run to in case of bad anxiety. Well, my colitis flare had me realizing I’m perfectly fine on my own and anxiety is something I’ve completely forgotten about over the past weeks – or perhaps it’s just duloxetine doing it’s thing ☺️
Either way, I’m been feeling good on a mental level and horrible on a physical level. But pushing through – as always.
It’s not my first flare. I know the pain, I know everything about this stupid autoimmune disease so I also know it will go back in remission.
Patience.
Faith.
Love.
My favorite ingredients for any recipes.
On a brighter note, got a cute table for my balcony and we had our first dinner on it yesterday night.
I knew anxiety was coming, took my Xanax, but came over to my parents straight away.
I slept after Xanax.
I woke up, knew I still had anxiety but still got in my car and went to my therapist. While there, I kept getting heat waves. I was sweating profusely and wanted to run away but sat through it and simply asked for a cup of water.
My session started. And so did the tears.
I cried because I’m exhausted from anxiety. I cried because something from my past still hurts. I cried because I feel weak and hopeless at times. I cried because I felt in a safe space.
Got through the therapy, wholeheartedly hugged my therapist and left CENPIS with my mind set on going to my guitar class.
I started studying Fade to Black (Metallica) with my teacher. A masterpiece that moves every chord of my soul and that I’ve been wanting to play since forever.
I felt overjoyed when the first notes started resonating. But I was tense and still anxious and my teacher felt it.
I had an ugly conversation with my sister – again – that hurt me deeply. She accuses me of being selfish for wanting my parents around. She tells me I enjoy being in this state so I don’t have to work on being a better person. My mother is a hard love kind of person and so she hardly ever misses on an opportunity to use despicable terms for defining my weaknesses. The only support I perceive is from my father – an old, wise and motherly man.
I feel very lonely in my battle.
I don’t want to rely on my partner and burden him.
I don’t want my daughter to think her mother is too weak to be her support system.
I don’t want to give in.
I want to win this battle and will keep on fighting with every inch of my mind and body but sometimes it gets hard. Very hard.
All the tears I cried in therapy Rocking my anxiety away. Losing my religion by REM – 5 years since I last picked my guitar up
Woke up feeling quite normal yesterday, took my meds and managed doing a few things around the house.
Hoovered, did laundry and went for a nice breakfast at the park with my daughter and dog. We went to get groceries for lunch after that, and then sat home in the comfort of the ac.
I also managed making us a simple lunch – something we hadn’t been able to do in a very long time due to my anxiety.
In the afternoon, I managed driving her to her therapist, waited for her to finish her session and then took her shopping. After shopping, we went to our favorite library, the Little Reader, had a slice of yummy cake and juice and got her a ne book to read.
All in all, I was so proud of my little achievements and the smiles on her face filled my heart. Ended up taking Xanax in the late afternoon – my doc said to take it regularly for now. It made me a little sleepy and so I napped on our couch for 30 minutes.
Didn’t run away to my parents’, didn’t let anxiety stop me from doing anything I had planned with her.
It’s been almost a week since I’m on 60mg of duloxetine. Quetiapine works wonders – I sleep peacefully and wake up feeling okay.
Patience.
Love.
Faith.
Need to repeat these mantras in my head and to work more on acceptance.
Seeing my therapist at 11 and then off to guitar class at 12. I have a client appointment at 3.30. Full day I’d say but for the moment, I’ll go take a small nap as my morning Xanax is kicking in.
Woke up feeling quite okay this morning and felt grateful that duloxetine is slowly starting to kick in.
However my stomach was tied in a knot and I had to force myself to have breakfast. Regardless, I was keen on going to the club with my daughter so she could spend a nice day by the pool and so we went.
Anticipatory anxiety led me to taking Xanax early morning. Reached the club, got us a nice spot in the shade and went immediately for a swim.
During lunch my partner arrived and so did anxiety. I believe the core reason was the awareness that him and my daughter don’t really get along. My daughter is very jealous of me and very critical of him. He’s a quite strict man and displays signs of low tolerance to certain attitudes she has at times. And so most of the times I’m with the both of them, I feel a little uncomfortable.
Anxiety was peaking badly so I took a second Xanax tab and boy did it make me sleepy. My daughter was playing in the water with her friends and didn’t notice I slept for hours.
Once I woke up, or rather was woken up, I knew something was off. I felt weak, dizzy, anxious and scared at the thought of driving us back. I believe my blood pressure had dropped: combination of sun exposure and benzo.
But for once I did something different: I refused to be escorted, I bought myself a can of coke and got into the car with my girl. We chit chatted the whole way, I didn’t call anyone for reassurance and came to our house instead of running to my parents.
Once home, I texted my therapist and told her everything. Sat on the couch for a while with my girl, lifted my legs up after explaining to her my pressure had slightly shot down and kept speaking to my therapist.
20 minutes later I was in the shower.
Im clean, fresh and dressed up neatly. So is she. I did laundry, I cleaned the cats’ litter and emptied our beach bags.
Im proud of two things:
Facing my fear by myself;
Finding comfort in my own home. The home I tend to run away from when feeling quivery. The home I put so much love in the making of it. The home that has a little something I love in every corner of it. The home that was a huge economic sacrifice for me. The home I so badly wanted for me, my beautiful girl and our pets.
I want to stop running away.
I want to stop feeling anxious.
I want to stop fearing anxiety.
And so I’m meticulous abiding by my therapist’s exercises, no matter how I feel, and by my psychiatrist’s prescriptions.
Faith.
Patience.
Love.
Acceptance.
Resilience.
The principles I want to live by. Perhaps I should put more effort on the acceptance. We’ll get there. Baby steps.
It’s been a few days since I last wrote. It’s been a few tough days.
A few days back I had a massive panic attack while driving to go pick my girl from school: started shaking uncontrollably, short breath, confused thinking and the general discomfort I feel when panic strikes.
I managed reaching school although my mind kept projecting the idea that I’d pass out while driving and forget my daughter in school.
I picked her up, we went to the navy’s club but unfortunately it was close and so we drove back. On the way back, anxiety hit me again: I was driving and had my daughter with me. The fear of failing hit me again. And so we came to my safety net: my parents place where I broke down into a “scream like” crying frenzy, sobbing desperately and feeling completely defeated.
This occurred in front of my daughter.
I later sat down with her and explained the struggles I’m dealing with right now.
Just going through that whole day again right now makes me feel slightly nauseous and sick. Horrible, truly.
And so I came to a realization today: I no longer want to be pitied. I don’t want anyone to feel sorry for me. I don’t want anyone to care for me like I’m a child.
I’m battling this and will come through. I’m focused on my therapy, I’m sticking to my prescribed meds and I have a burning desire in me to REACT and stop feeling sick.
I am not sick. I just got my blood works done and everything is perfectly fine. I have a dysfunctional way of perceiving and living both internal and external worlds and that’s exactly why I do therapy.
I trust my therapist wholeheartedly. She’s tough and sometimes our sessions are heavy on my heart and mind but I know for a fact that – by collaborating meticulously with her – I’ll become the person I want to be.
The person I want to be is not any different than the person I am: I just want to break once and for all my patterns: anxiety —> fear —-> search for reassurance —> avoidance of situations.
I want this blog to become a source of strength and positivity for whoever crosses it – starting with myself.
It’s gonna be a busy day today with my girl once I finish working and I want to be present to myself and daughter through it all. If shit goes down, I have my Xanax 0.50 with me.
Done deal.
Fucking react.
Sharing a picture of me a few years ago – the person I want to go back to being.
I woke up feeling well today. Or rather, serene. No tight stomach (finally), no nausea, no clenching muscles.
Prepped my girl’s lunchbox, fed the pets, changed bed sheets and took our puppy out for his morning walk grabbing a coffee along the way.
0740 came – time to drive to school.
Before going, I decided to take my duloxetine tab. I was eager to start the full treatment as I’m quite fed up with anxiety.
Started feeling jittery while driving. I’m 100% aware I was subconsciously freaking out because I had taken a new medication. Given the doctor has allowed me to, I took a Xanax tab to cope with the discomfort and after driving my girl to school, I went for blood tests and then came to my parents.
Nothing wrong with anything I’ve done right? Yet I apparently have this rooted belief in me that I must be alone and strong and happy at all times and so every time I come here, I feel like I failed myself a little.
I love my parents, I love talks with my dad, but the real truth of me coming over is the sense of protection I get from being in their presence. My mind says nothing bad could ever happen to you while you’re in a safe place. My house is (or at least should be) a safe place too. I love that apartment of mine, I put my whole heart into decorating it and making it homey for my daughter and me. My anxious brain though projects thoughts like:
You’ll feel sick and no one will know about it
You’ll lose control of your mind and do stupid things
You’ll start feeling anxious, sweating profusely and be unable to eat anything
Yup – it’s Generalized Anxiety 100%.
I know it. I know it can’t hurt me, yet I fear it.
So going back to my initial statement, I started duloxetine.
How am I honestly feeling: mentally clear, managed getting a good amount of work done after taking a small nap but nervous. I took another Xanax tab just a few minutes ago.
I have one thought that’s been causing me great distress: should I stay or should I go, as the song said ☺️
Where? In my house. The safe space I created for myself and daughter. Why am I questioning? Because my parents will be traveling on June 8th and the thought of not having the safety net of my neighbors – because yes, we’re also neighbors – causes me massive distress.
My heart tells me:
You’re a 37 year old professional with a child, three pets and a loving partner. Your life is in Rome, stay where you are and enjoy your days with your daughter at the club;
My mind tells me:
Your mind hasn’t yet adapted to the new substance. You’re gonna feel quivery, freak out probably, lose all sort of control on your mind and get your daughter scared and concerned while also ruining her days.
Who should I listen to? Thursday I meet my therapist. I kinda feel like I know what she’ll tell me because it’s what I’ve been telling myself as well (follow your heart, everything will be okay).
When I woke up this morning at my parents’ I was feeling the usual nausea, the usual tightness in my legs and the usual sense of discomfort.
I reached for coffee and cigarette immediately, like I always do. It’s a killer habit I know and I also know it doesn’t support the anxiety but it’s like I can’t go without. I could barely eat breakfast – stomach was too tight.
I texted my neurologist and got no reply. At that point my anxiety had started escalating and I decided I wanted to cut the crap immediately and so I asked my partner to call him and get an effing response. I couldn’t call for two reasons:
I was surrounded by my parents and my daughter was with me;
I was too shy to voice my fears.
My partner called him. He confirmed I haven’t been feeling poorly due to the removal of amisulpride but rather due to my underlying condition. He insisted on reassuring me that I am okay. I am a normal person. There’s no disease in me. I have a condition that will be successfully addressed through the right medications and therapy.
I’m on my third day of quetiapine and must admit I’m feeling less worse than yesterday. So far I’ve only taken one Xanax tab in the morning.
Legs (muscles) are sore and slightly tense. I got two heat waves only since the morning.
At some point something happened this morning. I decided to pack the stuff I had brought at my parents, get into my car with my daughter and go home to change in swimsuits and come to the navy club.
We also went for a quick shopping tour, just my daughter and me as she was out of bathing suits.
My voice has been better today.
I’ve smiled.
I’m looking around me.
I’m not crazy nor will I become crazy. I’m a normal person just like everybody else, I have a beautiful daughter that is sitting in front of me right now eating her unhealthy crisps 😀 and insisting I go for a swim with her.
I’ve had bad experiences that impacted my way of functioning and thinking. New cells can be created. Check what this article says about it.
Who said I can’t be one of those people? Drug addicts manage re-wiring their brains. Of course a person with anxiety can learn new patterns and introduce new synapses.
Patience.
Faith.
Love.
And meds when needed.
I’ll be blogging about my experience with meds as soon as I’m ready to do so.
For the time being, I’ll give into my daughter’s requests and go for a swim with her ☺️
I went to Zagreb for the weekend with my partner and the entire weekend was a constant battle against the knot in my throat, the nausea I’d start feeling the minute I opened my eyes, the mental confusion and the horrible intrusive thoughts.
The only slight help I’d get was from Xanax 0.25 tabs – but not completely.
I had a massive panic attack while in the airport on our way back to Rome: I started sweating profusely, heart was racing and thoughts were getting all mixed up.
One thought in particular was harassing me: kill yourself. Stop destroying the life of everyone that loves you. Disappear from this planet.
I broke down, sobbing like a baby, and texted my therapist while crying on my partner’s chest desperately. I cried (and I cry) because I don’t want to feel this way.
I want to be a good mother on top of everything. I want my daughter to feel happy, serene and mostly safe in my presence. And so I had been doing until this past week.
What happened during this week that altered my brain so badly?
Only thing that comes to mind is that I’m coming off the old therapy and have started introducing the new one – which, my doc explained, is more effective and has less side effects.
It’s not the same doc I’ve been seeing for the past years. I’m now being helped by CENPIS – a center of excellence where multiple professionals collaborate to support patients.
But meds take time to kick in.. in the meantime, I’m utterly terrified of my feelings and was unable to go to my house.
Too scared of being alone.
Scared something would happen to me and I’d terrify my daughter.
And so I came where I always come when I’m in crisis mode: my parents.
I had promised my daughter I’d cook a nice meal for her tonight and we’d have dinner at home, just the two of us, like we haven’t done in a while due to my anxiety.
Well guess what? I had to let her expectation down.
I need support. I need to feel safe. I need to know my daughter is taken care of if something happens to me.
Final thought: anxiety is very real. Please be patient and ask professionals how you can support a dear one that’s battling a battle like mine.
I’ll keep you posted on when I manage making that nice dinner for my adorable girl. For the time being, we’ll have the grandparents feed us both – although I’m incapable of eating anything.
When Covid restrictions were being lifted, I was applying for a job at BCG. I had been at Deloitte for some years now and realized there was no potential for growth or salary improvement.
I was contacted by BCG for interviews and so figured I’d reach out to current employees to inquire about the process. I remembered a former colleague of mine had moved there and so I decided to contact him.
Little did I know it would turn out to be the biggest mistake of my life.
He was very kind, suggested we got on a call to discuss the interview process and offered to help me prep.
He was perhaps a little too kind as from that moment he started calling daily and at weird timings. I remember vividly hearing his kids screaming in the background and shortly after I started getting pictures of his children and consequently shared a few of my own daughter.
The first interview happened on June 14, 2021. He knew about it, called me and asked to discuss it over dinner. Two weeks had passed since the process with BCG had started and during these two weeks we were texting and calling regularly. I realized I had started liking the former colleague I once thought of as cocky, rude and inappropriate.
I recall making myself as pretty as I could for that dinner. I was very excited and jittery.
He arrived in a scooter, wearing jeans and a colorful blazer I hated but not enough.
I couldn’t stop staring at him during dinner. I was completely captivated by his smooth talk, his (seeming) confidence, his sense of humor and his blue eyes. I felt the chemistry was there and was taken quite back when, once dinner ended, he didn’t kiss me.
Once I got back home, I texted asking why he didn’t approach me. And from there, it all happened.
He was working on a project in Germany back then, told me he’d fly in the following week to meet me and so he did. This went on for three weeks.
At that point I was completely hooked. I started wanting to reciprocate his travels and to meet him over the weekends as well. He said no.
I couldn’t fly to Berlin to meet him. We couldn’t spend weekends together because “work” for the company he owned on the side.
I was into it too deep. The late night talks, the endless phone calls, the mind blowing sex. I was completely hooked, could barely sleep. All I thought about was the made he made me feel: ALIVE.
Mid July comes, I start getting suspicious that something wasn’t right with this constant work excuse. I asked if he was still with the mother of his kids because it just didn’t add up.
And that’s where the manipulation started. I was accused of being paranoid, crazy, treating him like a child and so on and so forth. Completely captivated by this man, I ended up apologizing. Intensely.
We went on. One day of mid November of the same year, he called me and said he was bringing his kids to Rome to introduce them to me. I got a bout of anxiety: did this mean the relationship was getting serious? I swallowed my anxiety and went to meet those kids I had been video calling with for months.
His daughter ran towards me and jumped in my arms. His soon took a little while to open up but eventually did.
November was the month when I figured we were something and I got him his first gift: a Darth Vader Lego collection piece.
Time went by, things didn’t change: we could only meet when he wanted. I was too in love and believing he was truly working – even when he disappeared completely over the weekends.
The days we’d spend together -mid week- I was never capable of sleeping with him. The minute we’d go to sleep, I’d start getting fierce anxiety attacks and the need to get out of his house. It always happened. I just couldn’t fall asleep next to him.
Fast forward to a year or little more, he caught COVID and was very dramatic about it. He asked it if I’d join him on this gaming platform to kill time and of course I did. Once on that platform, I noticed he constantly ignored me to interact with this other user – manupikachu. Something didn’t feel right.
I started googling that user name, it was all I had. I obsessively kept on researching for days and months until I finally found an Instagram account with a name and last name. Next step was looking this use up on LinkedIn: as I suspected, it was a woman that had also worked at Deloitte.
I knew it, I just knew that the worse would happen but swallowed my fear and asked him – mentioning name and last name – who that person was.
He had no emotion. He simply said it was a woman he had had something with in the past. I finally stopped believing the bullshit and told him we were over. He was in Milan, he begged me to wait and said he’d catch the first train to Rome to come tell me to my face that he loved me and wanted to be with me.
And what did I do?
I waited. I hugged him. I cried and sobbed my heart out. My dream coming true. He was finally ready to commit to me.
The important step I missed out on: upon realizing that user had a name and last name and was a woman, I felt devastated by a sense of doom and sadness I had never experienced before. And so I started seeing a psychiatrist, begging for help to be normal again.
With the drugs lifting me up and my dream come true, we finally became a couple.
But something in my mind wouldn’t shut up. I kept sensing something was wrong and so one night, while he was asleep, I went through his internet history and found tons of researches on that woman and things like “why can’t I forget my ex although she treated me badly”.
My heart sank.
Here we were, AGAIN.
I confronted him, got manipulated again and fell for it.
His birthday was approaching – June 6. I wanted him to feel special on that day and so I planned: a weekend by the sea, a wine tasting day and had a cyber cake designed for him (see the pic).
Summer was near, I had tried planning holidays with all the kids too for months. I grew fed up, booked tickets for my daughter and me and we flew to Saudi to visit my sister.
The minute I traveled he started treating me horribly: he was cold, never calling, never texting. And on my birthday, I got the following: “buon compleanno.” Not an emoji, not a call. And obviously, a no show at the airport as I had planned to spend my birthday with him as well.
My daughter and me reached home in Rome at around 5 am that day. At 8, he started calling obsessively saying we had to get ready to go climbing – something I’ve never done.
I said no.
I said this is not the way I wish to be treated on my birthday.
This is not the way I wish to be treated in general and mostly – I cannot be with a man that won’t stand up to his truth. So I gave him an aut aut: either he’d tell that woman the whole truth or I would do so personally. Otherwise there was no way I could respect him and go on.
He refused to do so.
And so I did it.
I will not waste any mental energy on that woman.
I’ll just wrap this post telling you the minute I broke up with him – on my birthday – he went and got back with her. Although she had heard the full truth from me, she still went and got back with him.
I have no hard feelings for him.
I sincerely pity him.
I never hope to cross paths with him again as I know my heart would sink in my stomach: not over feelings for him, but out of awareness of the pain he put me through.
A pain so intense that led me to psych medications, amplified my GAD and literally broke my heart.
Life has been so much better with him out of the picture. But that’s something I’ll discuss in a separate post.
GG
P.S: the bakery got his initials wrong 😅 it should have been FP.
Mental Health Fitness: breathing the pain in individually, breathing it out collectively 