We celebrated logical Norwegian Christmas Eve last night. Logical because it wasn’t the physical December 24th! The term harkens back to my days of manning a computer. (speaking of which, last night I had a dream that it was my last day of work and there was tons and tons of stuff that I had to bring home with me - maybe the growing pile of stuff to take to Kirsten’s tomorrow triggering it - and the pile grew again between the time I wrote this para and the 7th para...)
The whole family was there! It’s been 12 years since everyone gathered around the table at Christmas time, and it was wonderful.
We had the usual Norwegian fare: lefse, lutefisk, gjetost, jarlsberg, prosciutto standing in for the cured reindeer. Mom always adds some meatballs and a pork roast to fill out the menu for those that don’t eat the fish. Dessert was a selection of sweets, crowned by rice pudding. A feast fit for such a great occasion.
My panic attack started Saturday afternoon… I’m not sure exactly what it was about but it perhaps had something to do with upcoming Christmas celebrations. Don’t get me wrong, I’m super excited to be spending some of the time at Kirsten’s, but my crazy brain goes into overdrive anticipating all the worst. I was having trouble modulating my thoughts.
Despite the clench in my stomach, I managed to get presentable and walk to the neighbor’s house for their annual Christmas party. It was a great time. I love seeing everyone from the other side of the river and plan to have them all over here sometime in the new year. Writing it down is a bit like making a commitment, so I can’t procrastinate the year away...
In the morning I was still gasping for air and wondered how I’d get through the next few days… a talk with Kirsten, some help from Carm, and my emergency meds, soon had me sorted and I could breathe again. There are days that I sail through and forget that I have a mental illness, and other times when it smacks me in the face. In fact, these days I could say that I rarely remember that my brain sometimes malfunctions. It’s been a few years since my last suicidal thought and most days feel ‘normal’. Rejoice! What I’ve (mostly) learned over the years is that if I persevere things get better. My mind is my own worst enemy, but it can also be my saviour.
As strange as it may seem, it took a long time to accept this new ‘normal’ feeling. I was used to swinging highs that were exciting and fun. Sure the low times followed, along with their morose thoughts, but that is what I was used to. Since the medications started working and I got my life arranged for wellness, I feel flat. Getting excited about something is just a blip compared to the old days. Flat was hard to get used to! Sometimes I wish for just a little bit of that hypo-mania to shake things up a bit!
I do get a lot more anxiety than I ever did though… my theory is that the extremes of mood collapse together into one uncomfortable state - the high of excitement crushed with the low of depression equals anxiety and panic.
All that said, I feel blessed and rejoice at my good fortune every day. There is so much to be thankful for. There’s the big things like family and friends, but there are also small things like the sun setting on a hazy winter day, a sparkle of snow, Adia racing in the field, Spike running for a treat, a warm bed with a fluffy comforter, twinkling Christmas tree lights, the creamy goodness of gjetost, the tic of a clock in a silent house, anticipation for more family fun...
“Chronic anxiety is a state more undesirable than any other, and we will try almost any maneuver to eliminate it. Modern man is living in anxious anticipation of destruction. Such anxiety can be easily eliminated by self-destruction. As a German saying puts it: 'Better an end with terror than a terror without end."
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