A fantastical fear of everything
In a previous post I talked about how I had a very strong chest pain where I was sent to the hospital and had a panic attack on my way there. My hands got stiff at the hospital door and they wheeled me in. I went there twice after that, but to no avail. They kept saying the same thing. “There is nothing physically wrong with you. It must be psychological” I didn’t know what to say, but I believed them eventually… for a while. I stayed in bed, I wasn’t able to move a lot, I couldn’t sit upright for a long time. There was something wrong with me… I know it. I mean yes, I have problems, who doesn’t? My dental career was at halt, I didn’t have money at the time, and my fiancé is still far from being here with me because of the first two issues. But why would I feel like that? Why would I have this strong chest pain that I can’t control.
One day, I had this chest pain a day after they told me I have nothing for the second time, and at that moment, my parents were arguing about some money issues with my relatives, and as I was starting to have a panic attack, they kept talking about their problems while I was in sever pain on the floor. That’s when I felt the injustice of the whole world on me. I was left with two choices, either keep breathing, or Cry…. I chose the latter. I chose to cry instead of breathing…. and that’s when I started to feel the pain go away. The less I breathed the better I felt. My parents who I stayed with them to recover calmed me down. But I knew deep down that this is something only I can deal with. A month later, I got the call, I had a job offer. I started working, finally! But my chest pain is still there. I couldn’t tell them I have chest problems when I finally and after 7 months of paper works, interviews and exams tell them I need more time. I pushed myself. When I felt chest pain I just massaged my chest area. But that only lasted for a while because one of my co-workers notice it and he pointed it out. So I just said no I’m fine. He had a loud voice, he attracted everyone with his questions and they all looked at me with concerned eyes. That’s when the panic started again. I felt my chest becoming tighter. I told them I haven’t been sleeping lately and that I’m exhausted. That’s why I need to excuse myself. I had my brother come to pick me up and I left my car there. I hardly slept that night, and when I woke up, I was still in pain. Two months have passed and I’m still in pain. Something was wrong with me… I know it. So I finally called my brother. But this time he took me to someone he knows, a doctor Richard from Lebanon. He asked me a couple of questions, and that’s when all things were revealed to me.
Two questions from his questioner rang in my head. Do I have suicidal thoughts? Do I take pleasure in doing things I used to like doing?
The first question was hard at first, because even though I have those thoughts sometimes, I dismiss them, but it made me think that lately I was very afraid of death. Not afraid of dying, but afraid from the injustice of it, because my life had just started to be better, and now I have this thing in my chest and I was afraid that it was killing me. This fear made me obsessed and I imagined dying in many ways that I hesitate before I climb the stairs.
The second question was about my interests. I was… less reactive to the things I loved doing than I used to be. I told myself it’s because I was busy trying to find a job. I gave myself excuses but in fact, I was sad. I wanted to write like I used to write, with enthusiasm and love. But whenever I thought about myself being an Iraqi guy who lives in Kuwait I start thinking that this writing path is useless, that my voice will not be heard. So why I do a lot of research for my books, why I read Identity theory, books about Mesopotamia, philosophy books and many other books and articles as research for my books to eventually be forgotten after I finally finish them. I was writing on sand and the tide kept wiping my words.
When doctor Richard finished his examination, he revealed the questioner result. The five words he told me had set me free. “You have moderately sever depression”. A couple of seconds of silence passed before I wanted to reply in denial, but I just cried instead. “It’s ok” Dr. Richard said “Let it out”.
I was tired, that was it, just tired of working for so long to accomplish so little.
I left, started my medication and became better, my mind became clearer and I started to realize that I in fact accomplished a lot. I remember a friend of mine telling me that his sister’s first book to ever read was my book Psychs, and because of that she started reading a lot of books. The fact that I made this young woman think that reading is an interesting activity is a great accomplishment, and if I didn’t get to change more people, then I’m fine with that. If I could change the life of one person to be better, then that’s enough for me. You don’t have to be a messiah, just be a person of good values.
I’m glad to hear you’re doing better. 🙂
Thank you. I’m better but I’m still recovering. 🙂