Today I brought Mom to outpatient physical therapy (PT) for the first time. She kept asking me to go in with her, but was able to operate the handicapped person’s elevator by herself. Other people opened doors for her. As soon as she entered the place proper, she seemed to forget I was there, trying to figure out whether I should help her, and if so what I should do.
Once Mom was happily at PT, Fox and I went to a relatively nearby movie theater to see Star Trek: Into Darkness. I’m going to try not to give spoilers but I will say there were a lot of explosions. Overall, it was an excellent movie and I’m really looking forward to seeing it again. If I do so in theaters, I’m bringing earplugs.
Anyone watching me during the movie might have thought I hated it, though, and seriously wondered why I didn’t just get up and leave. I spent significant portions of the movie clinging to Fox for dear life – much the same way I clung to a previous significant other when we went to see Silent Hill, a horror movie that quite thoroughly terrified (and traumatized) me. Especially during fight scenes (in Star Trek), I was shaking, looks of panic on my face, holding my head in my hands, my body very tense, insisting that Fox hold me. It was, in short, a very strong anxiety reaction. Even afterward, when I went to the bathroom, I started shaking again and felt like I was on the verge of tears.
Don’t get me wrong, I was very immersed in the movie. The acting, the music, the effects, and an engaging plot all came together to really pull me into the overall experience. I could relate to and empathize with the characters; I cared about their well-being. So my physical responses do make sense with what I was thinking and feeling in response to the movie. They were just taken to what I perceive as an extreme that does not reflect my actual degree of emotional response. Nothing in the movie was particularly terrifying or anxiety provoking; I haven’t been traumatized by it; intellectually I knew I was perfectly safe, sitting in a movie theater being entertained. But the way my body responded, you’d think I was convinced my life was in serious danger.
It was extremely loud in the movie theater and I think (hope) that was a significant contributing factor. That said, I think the metallic timbre of the explosion and especially gunshot sounds was the main trigger for my anxiety response. It’s possible the motion (visual input) might have also played a role. It’s hard to say what role the music played because I wasn’t focusing on it during the most anxiety-provoking scenes, but I did notice that at times it was very intense, with loud rapid high-pitched passages played by the string section of the orchestra (e.g. violins). Again, I think my response was “normal” in terms of its quality, but not its intensity.
I’m pretty sure it’s a side effect of the medications I’m on. One of the “infrequent” side effects listed for Zoloft is hyperesthesia – increased sensitivity in one or more senses. Now that I know that, I can save a lot of time trying to explain my experiences to my next psychiatrist and simply tell zir I have “auditory hyperesthesia.” Additionally, an “infrequent” side effect of BuSpar is noise intolerance. I’m not sure whether that’s the same thing / similar / related, or something completely different. But it’s definitely been affecting me in my daily life. Among other things, it’s harder for me to shop for items I need and make decisions because I can’t tolerate the noise (especially music and advertisements) in a lot of stores.
We went back to the PT place to pick Mom up, getting slightly lost in the process. Fox was geekgasming about the movie and its relationship to classic Star Trek. It’s the kind of thing I love to watch and listen to, but find distracting and irritating when I need to concentrate on driving. Then his mom called; I asked him to put her on speaker phone so he could help set up my GPS and I could be part of the conversation. We stayed on the phone with her for a little while after picking up my mom, who quietly complained to me that she had been waiting for us for over an hour. I think she should have been the one to do this, but I stepped up and politely told Fox’s mom I was enjoying talking to her, but let’s continue this conversation later.
Then there was driving around in circles in traffic, shopping, eating at a somewhat noisy establishment, listening to Mom, trying to express some of my needs to her – such as my need for a day (or two) to myself every week – feeling like she didn’t quite catch my meaning, and trying to cope with a splitting headache. By the time we got home I was furious! I think it’s because here I am struggling with all this shit and she just keeps asking more and more of me and no matter how hard she tries to be nice and considerate and show her support I feel like she just sees me as someone to do shit for her. A servant. Is it my hangup or something about her? I don’t even know! It drives me crazy.
But the point is when we got home I was furious. Rat therapy helped me calm down. Fox ended up doing laundry for all three of us while I took a nap; I’m torn between being very grateful and feeling guilty about “making” him do my mother’s laundry. That just seems to be breaking some kind of unspoken taboo.
Wakana had to cancel both our meetings this week because she’s been sick so I can’t even
take my frustrations out on the cymbal receive the support and therapeutic experiences I need from her. (I’ll admit I’m a bit annoyed about that, but I can’t believe she’d take a week off from work unless she had a really good reason to do so. It’s not like you can get paid sick days in private practice.) So I get to drive Mom to and from PT tomorrow (and possibly other errands), but I don’t get to have the professional help I desperately need! It’s not fair!