Warning: This journal entry will expose you to overly and ridiculously rambling explaining the craziness that is the past few days as well as my current health and state of mind. I apologize in advance if it seems I get completely off topic at some points my brain isn't functioning at its full capacity and I really need a good long vent...


Okay lets start on a happy note... though I think the rest of this huge ass entry will kinda swallow up and easily overcome my short-lived moment of not feeling crappy with the never ending void it is. ANYWAY I have just arrive home after after seeing my therapist and picking up my copy Darkside Chronicles, though I don't think I'll be playing it tonight considering that I don't believe I could hold/use the wii remote any time soon tonight.

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I've had a scary and very difficult past few days. I am in a very high high state of anxiety ever since Sunday and have missed some work but still made myself go in today for my shift I got a few hours shaved off of it thanks to a coworker of mine which I am so grateful for and had completely forgotten I had talked to her about so I could get off early so I could go to my weekly therapy session. Lets just say I would be a total complete wreck incapable of writing this journal if I hadn't been able to go, I still feel horribly burdened with anxiety, but I got a good deal of it out of my system trying to figure out why I'm still feeling like this after my hospital visit. I think it may be a subconscious worry/anxiety that it'll happen again or something else that I haven't realized at all.

Anyway that Sunday afternoon felt like any other I was only having a slight problem with my breathing and had just finished eating and then all of a sudden it just starting getting harder and harder for me breath properly and I found myself trying time and time again trying to take in deeper and deeper breaths of air. Each time I did felt restricted and unable to get in the amount I felt I needed, I then started panicking and freaking myself out which only made it worse, I would successfully calm myself down only to start freaking out once again and hyperventilating curled up in my bed with my sister trying to comfort me mainly by telling me to calm down.

This happened for about a half an hour while my dad called as well as tried to find an emergency clinic we could go to in the area after finding out the one closest to us was closed. My dad ended up finding one and I found myself driving out awhile with my father who was trying to locate the place he had never been to only to find out when we did find it that it was closed. At this point I was really exhausted and felt like I was going to pass out. My father at this point decided our only option was to drive out to the hospital. The whole car ordeal I found myself crying, trying control my sobbing as well as try to keep myself from hyperventilating which would lead me to freaking out and finding myself having a panic attacks, I seriously thought I was going to die. Me and my dad finally drove my over to the UNC hospital were I had to sit and attempt to explain why I was there, sign a whole bunch of stuff and answer a butt-load of questions which the majority of my dad answered since I was having a hard time/zoning out at certain points.

Basically for the past few months I had been having a slight problem with my breathing which only until recently associated with the case of asthma I was diagnosed with when I was much younger but hadn't had a problem with or used an inhaler for years. At this point after getting all the information they moved me and my dad actually more like me trying and failing to walk because my dizzy/lightheadedness which I cured my gripping my dads arm, I ended up siting in a wheelchair for most of the trip to the observation room they put us for the time the assistant nurse listened to my lungs and breathing and said he couldn't hear any tell tale wheezing and didn't think is was asthma. He told my father he wasn't sure whether to giver me the treatment for it, while my who is also a doctor told them he though I needed it, me and my dad ended up waiting a horribly long time after he left, my dad kept apologizing during the time which I though was ridiculous because there was no way he could have seen something like this happening, while stuck there I just got more and more and it hurt when I took deep breaths which led to my chest hurting. All I wanted was to go home, the hospital was only stressing me out more and making me have a harder time breathing, I was really scared I was going to have to say over night. I hate hospitals, I've had really bad experiences as well as memories when it come to them. I have memories of rushing to the hospital late at night with my mom cause I had been throwing up all day long and couldn't keep anything down, I had never been to one before and I just remember feeling sick tired and cold and wishing my constant vomiting would go away, in the end the only treatment was a suppository which my mother had to give me for the next while until things improved.

_{This subject was and still is the result of constant embarrassment and teasing from my two closest siblings when I was younger to today in the present they see it as a good laugh I see as an horrible experience I will never forget and something I could have died from. They laugh at every embarrassing topic of the event including the way I would cry when my mom gave me the medication to way I spit up and dry heaved bubbles and mucus. For the longest time I thought it was the subway I ate earlier that day because I remember becoming the most sick and throwing up after that, I know now though that it was actually an infection that I think spread from a UTI, though because of this I have never been able to eat or think about eating subway ever since with out feeling nauseous. I ended up in the bathroom and on the coach with a bucket for most of the day part of it alone when my older looking after me and my other 2 siblings at the time to the pool not thinking anything serious was wrong with me. Once my mom came home she took me to the hospital my dad worked at at the time after calling and talking or asking him about it I can't quite remember. ANYWAY What I remember of the hospital is being beyond the point of exhaustion and either not being allowed to sleep or was unable to from the pain as well as feeling like an ice cube. That and the memories of going to visit my mother on my brothers birthday and have to listen and watch as she acknowledged and spoke to all my other siblings which made me feel absolutely empty and heartbroken because I thought she didn't see or recognize me out of all us six kids. I soon felt relieved when she realized she forgot about me and started talking and talking to me, only to have to listen and become frightened when she began to point and say there were angels in the room. We left a little later and went home saying we would visit later that night. When we visited again and I saw her struggling to breath and barely even conscious I broke down along with the rest of my family. For a while I sat on the bed with her holding her hand praying the hardest I had ever in my life, holding on to the hope that she would pull through or at least wake up so I could say goodbye and tell her how much I loved her. I though at the time my faith and wish for just a little more time with her to apologize for all the things I had never gotten to say I was sorry for or to tell how much meant to me, to tell her she was my strength and courage my true inspiration in life and as an artist. Most of all I remember in the last moments when she her breathing began to slow, the breaths more labored, and her hands colder. I wanted to properly say goodbye to her, instead having to look at her her eyes slightly open and glassy unsure if she was even aware we were there and say goodbye and never be able to know for sure whether she heard me or any of us or not.}


What I'm trying to say is Hospitals are never happy places for me and never will be I believe for a long time. Because in that very hospital I was getting treatment from somewhere in one of the many many rooms that made up the building in the very late hours of night the cause and constant bringer of happiness in my life was lost forever. I realized this after escaping into an empty bathroom not wanting to believe what had really happened and listening to my oldest brother throwing up through the wall in the adjacent bathroom. It was then I began to lose my faith because no matter how much my family or I constantly prayed and pleaded none of it led up to anything, none of it had mattered. That night my mother died a little piece of me died too, and no matter what simply being in a Hospital will stir up memories and feelings I would rather not remember or feel. Hospitals make me feel empty, useless, and powerless when it comes to my life.

_{Instead of holding onto the thought that my mother was in a better place, I found myself becoming more and more angry at god taking away my very own mother from me during one of the times I needed her the most. I felt like he had betrayed me and my family, my mother she was the most faithful and religious person I knew she had the ability to see good in everything, and yet the one god she devoted herself so fully to took away the long wonderful life I felt she deserved. Even though my mother would not want me to be angry with God and tell me she was in a better place and she would always be with me, I still find myself struggling to not be angry with him and regain my faith in him. I try to let go of my anger and hurt towards him, but I just cant seem to and don't think I will be able to for many long years to come, and though I believe my mother would not fear death and welcome it, I know she would believe there were better things for her to do after life. The fact is even if he took her away to do better things or even if she was happy. He still took one of the things that meant more than the world and life itself, and that is something I just can't contemplate at all easily forgiving anyone for let alone god for right now.}

So I could easily say to anyone reading this when I was finally placed in a room and told what the doctors wanted to do and when I was finally given something to help me in the form of a tube/mouthpiece that I breathed in for quite a long while and was finally able to breath easier, they then had my blood drawn, and took a few x-rays of my chest to make sure it wasn't an infection or anything. I believe during my ordeal to and at the hospital I was slowly and unknowingly becoming overcome with anxiety which after a day of just building up just blew up in my face and overwhelmed me. I find myself at a loss, I shouldn't be feeling this way all the tests showed there wasn't anything too very serious and I started breathing easier after what they gave me and I got to go home with and inhaler, a packet of paper and instructions to rest I feel like all of the anxiety wont stop building in me. I find myself scared I wont be able to breath again, that it'll be way worse this time. I'm scared that I'll have to go back to the hospital and I'm scared that I'll end up like me mother even though I'm perfectly healthy.

All these anxieties I'm having at the moment are overwhelming and making me miserable. I feel like I can't function properly, I'm constantly finding myself absent minded and at a loss for words at time. I feel lethargic and tired all day for no reason and find myself dizzy and light headed when I get up or walk. My whole body is jittery and shaky my hands the most this little bit is giving a hard time when it comes to drawing as well as I feel completely and utterly uninspired and fear I would easily become frustrated. To be completely serious with you I feel like I'm at the breaking point 24/7 and am scared the littlest thing with set me off, which makes the thought of working for 6 hours straight tomorrow a huge internal crisis for me. One side of me feels like if I go to work I'm going to get overwhelmed and become a complete mess in front of both of my bosses as well as my coworkers. The other part doesn't want to have to bother anyone with trying to find someone to take my shift or make them angry or disappointed about calling in to ask again if I can stay home from work or burdening anyone with my problems even though I very well the that the owners of the store and my employers would never feel that way about something like this, at the same time though I just am sick of all ways being like this of always having problems to complicate my life.


Well anyway thank you for taking the time to read my the loooooooooong ass rambling and helping me vent out some of that evil anxiety I've been talking about here.

Another note to add I will be taking a small break from drawing at the moment. At least until I feel like my hands weren't chopped off by a desperate and crazy elderly woman intent on using them for her gain and miraculously replacing them with her crippled and overly shaky grandma hands.

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