I know, it doesn’t look like a real word, and honestly, it isn’t. But in my world, it’s a very familiar sound.
I have PVCs. Premature ventricular contractions. They are supposedly benign and actually very common, especially in women. Very common in people who have anxiety. Now, do we get anxiety because we get the flubadubas? Or do we get the flubadubas because we have anxiety? Really, I think lots of people get the flubadubas, but those of us who have anxiety feel them more prominently because we are hyperaware of every-fucking-thing.
I know that I feel my flubadubas much more in certain situations. When I’m stressed, when I’m hormonal, when I’m already feeling health anxiety about something else, when I’m overtired, when I have tummy troubles. So shall we check off all the things I’m feeling the last few days to indicate why these damn flubadubas are hanging around? Yeah, check check check check check check check. I have no idea if that number of checks matches my list, but it doesn’t really matter. I’m feelin’ the flubadubas and I hate it. Because the thing is, I don’t just feel the flubadubas, but with every flubaduba I get a ripple of anxiety that immediately follows it. If you have anxiety, you know that ripple…that sort of precursor to falling into the pit of anxiety-laden feelings. I’m sure it physically feels different to everyone, but for me it’s a feeling of unease that ripples up and down my chest. Almost like my organs are quivering inside me.
Since I’ve learned more about flubadubas, both on my own and through other people who have anxiety, I know intellectually that they will not hurt me. They are benign. But they still have the power to freak me out. I try very hard to let them do their flubaduba thing, I feel the ripple of anxiety, and I keep going. Usually this works for me and within a couple of hours they go away. Not so this time. This time they have been hanging around on and off for a couple of days. Oftentimes that does match up with a hormonal issue–you ladies get me–so I shouldn’t be surprised when they do occasionally hang around for longer. That doesn’t mean I like them any better, or tolerate them any more easily. They ramp up my health anxiety, which I’m already in the midst of an episode of that.
See, I had that massage the other day. And along with it has come a headache, that has been with me for two days on and off. That makes me worry that with the massage, which she did do some focus on the muscles around the sides of my neck, that she broke up some plaque or something in my carotid arteries. Which then has allowed some of that plaque to rush around my body and go to my head, which could lead to something horrible like a stroke or an aneurysm. I hated to even type that because a) it sounds foolish, as people have massages every single day and b) I hated to write it and make the thought real to me. But here on my blog, I try to be as honest and open as possible, so I typed it. And there it is, in all its stupid-ass glory. And as stupidly glorious as it is, it is what I have been struggling with since the massage two days ago. Now, in my head I’m thinking…two days have gone by so if something was going to happen, it would have happened already. And in my head I’m thinking…I have got to go google this to see how long I have to worry about this happening. But I did not go google it. I did not look it up. I am struggling so hard to not go look it up. You know I have that google issue. I have it bad, ya’ll. But I’ve been so good about it, I don’t want to backslide. And I don’t want to scare the shit out of myself.
I spent the whole day yesterday alone (with the dogs), feeling the flubadubas, trying to just move through the day without focusing on my health anxiety. I did okay, but I know that based on the flubadubas, I was still hyperaware. It sucked. I mean, it was good because I was alone and I didn’t have a panic attack or freak out or call Hub and make him rush home from where he was. And I didn’t call my mother and lean all over her. I stood my ground. But it fucking sucks. It sucks to live like this…
Fuck you, flubadubas. Go away. Leave me and my poor screwed up hyperaware brain alone.