The Liar is Honest
Hi. I'm Lissa. I'm in my early 20's, have have been having panic attacks since my early teens. I'm also a terrible liar (well, actually I'm a pretty good liar), but I'll try my best not to lie here. That would seem to be somewhat couter-productive.
I've been in and out of CBT for about ten years. I've gone to a psychiatrist and two psychologists, but something always happened to prevent me from 'finishing' (#1 retired, #2 moved away, #3 changed vocations- she's now a teacher). When one left, it wasn't unusual for me to take a couple years to find someone new to help me. I don't trust strangers easily, and certainly don't like talking about my feelings. Even typing this is making my fingers shake! And, honestly, I lied to them, too, so I'm pretty sure that makes a bad patient-therapist relationship, and would probably not have ended up very productive in the end. Eventualy, after #3, I went through a run of psycho-babble-crazies ("You're anxious because your aura is yellow and your moon is in Mars", "Eat less red meat and you will not be anxious any more" etc) and gave up. However, I never really learned control or any coping mechanisms. I've pretty much just been toughing it out- pretending everything is okay when it isn't. Like I said, I'm pretty good at prentending. Lying. I'm supposed to be a full-time university student, but in two and a half years I think I have spent all of 90 days actually in a classroom. My parents- whom I live with- don't know that, though. I also can't drive- though my new job requires it. That's a problem in and of itself.
Lately, though, everything seems to be falling apart. I have had three sets of ulcers in the past two years- two this last year alone. I can't concentrate, my memory is shot, and I am just pain tired. I don't want to lie and pretend I'm fine anymore. But I don't know how to tell anyone- besides the Anonymous You on the Internet- especially my family, without breaking their hearts again, after all the "trust" (based on lies) that we've finally built up. I went from the straight-A, straight-arrow teen to the overwrought mentally sick one once; I'd rather not go from the moderately successful student-cum-coordinator to the cowardly unemployed lazy bum again. My fears are affecting my work, and my lies are catching up with me. It feels like the end of the world is coming- or at least, the end of my world. No need to wait for 2012.
Wow. I don't think I've "talked" that much, and that honestly, about my anxiety in... well, ever. Thankfully I have a wad of tissues with me, or else I'm pretty sure my keyboard would have shorted out by now. Water, salt and technology do not good friends make.
Anyways, that's me. Or, some of me, anyways.
