The Tailspin

Thoughts on a validated diagnosis and the terrifying reality of what comes next

I've been in a free fall, spiraling out of control since Wednesday. The mail arrived, and sitting in it was the evaluation, prognosis, and recommendations from the first Neuropsych exam I've ever had.

Over the years, I knew I had anxiety disorder with panic. The constant roiling in my stomach and panic attacks made that one clear.

Acknowledging also that I have PTSD wasn't difficult because I saw triggers play out day in and day out, dragging others through the chaos with me.

I suspected the autism and ADHD, though it took me a couple of years of it being suggested for me to even consider it.

But even with a suspicion, I didn't know if I was just crazy or if someone else would see how I have struggled. And then while I waited for the results, I was fighting with my own brain and insecurities thinking:

What if I'm not? What does that mean?

What are the deeper implications of the deficits I have if there isn't a neurological explanation for these oddities that are now overwhelming me since menopause stripped all my normal masking away.

What if no one truly sees how hard life has become?

What if no one believes me?

What if there's nothing wrong with me?

And suddenly these results are on my doorstep. And I am in a tailspin. My body feels relief and panic at the same time. Because now that my struggles are being medically validated, I am terrified no one will see how desperately I need a break. I don’t een know if that is rational or irrational, though I suspect it’s the latter? Maybe? I’m just unsettled.

But I’m not going to just hide in a hole until the chaos in my brain goes away. This is me fighitng back. This is me expressing the very real emotions that come along with the heaviness I am currently carrying. This is me saying I will not give up this fight. And that I am so, so tired.

We meet with my therapist Tuesday evening and I am praying that she sees me and the struggle. That someone validates the fact that my ability to function has become impossible. That if my worst case scenario plays out, I’ll completely fall apart. I know the truth. I know that He who is in me is greater than He who is in the world (these diagnoses). I know that His mercies are new every morning. I know that He is my fourth man in this fire. I know that Jehovah Roi is The God Who Sees Me. I know that there is no step I have taken that He has not been right by my side.

Growing up there was a picture on the wall with a Bible verse that comes back to me time and time again:

“What time I am afraid, I will trust in Thee.”

It doesn’t say that I am no longer afraid because I trust in thee. It doesn’t say I only trust you when I don’t feel afraid. It says that WHEN—as in it’s a foregone conclusion that it is in our human nature to feel afraid—I am afraid, I will trust in Thee.

So I don’t know what the future holds, but I know that I am afraid and that I can also trust Him. I remind myself, once again, that two things can be true at the same time.

Jamie

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