Konststycket

Yesterday I wrote only in swedish. I wrote:

Today it's six years ago since I sat down in the doctor's consultation room when she asked me "How are you, really". I couldn't answer but my tears started to flow slowly. Then I cried three weeks in a row. No, I didn't really but it felt like it.

I felt so bad, was totally stressed out an so tired that, when driving between home and work, I hoped someone should crash into my car. Then everything would just stop. I didn't want to die, it wasn't like that, I just wished so badly for a little time of peace.

By that time my heart had been pounding for quite some time. It started very modest when the soul didn't listen to the other symptoms but in the end it was hysterical 24-7. Not even when it started to hurt did I feel I had the time to see a doctor. At work balancing of books had to be finished...

I thought I had become so incredible stupid. So unbelievable dumb. I couldn't learn new things, couldn't focus, had absolutely no patience, were often angry and I had this "black outs". First time driving and I should shift gear and suddenly I had no idea of how to do that. It lasted for a very short time but it scared the h.ll out of me. Another time I should drive from point A to point B. Had done it lots of times before but I went totally blanc. Had no clue at all.

I was convinced that I was loosing my mind. And I was terrified. And very, very tired. Now, six years later I can feel gratitude of what happen happened. But it has been so much pain and distress between then and now and when sitting here I can't help experience a kind of sadness about it all. Some emotinal flash backs, I guess. In the end, it forced me to make some decisions I wouldn't done else. I changed way in life, found a new career I'm truly happy about.

I have had a permanent injury of this. I'm "allergic" to stress and is almost without margins when times go more intense. My heart has started to pound again, still modest for now. But it scares me an I have to sort my commitments and apply for help where I can find it. It's not a choice I make because of lack of interest or lazyness. It's a choice I make for my survival. I sounds like a drama queen, I'm afraid, but it is as simple as that. I don't think I'll survive another trip to hell...