I gotta bad caaaase of loooovvvvin yoooouuu!
Okay, maybe I don't have a bad case of loving you because my love for you is like summer rain during a drought. Too much?
So for those of you who don't know me (which I'm sure you do because basically the only people that read this blog as of right now are family, friends and Facebook friends)...anyways, for those of you who don't know me, I recently started working about three months ago in this amazing little bar with a breathtaking view. The people I work for are extremely nice and very accommodating, the food is awesome, my coworkers are fun loving. It's everything I could ever ask for in a job.
Except for one thing. It's in a shipping container.
"Oh, that's really brilliant!" "How does that work?" "That sounds really neat, Rach!"
Yes, yes it does and it's brilliant because it just is. Unless you've been claustrophobic your whole life. *Slowly and sheepishly raises hand* Hello, I'm Rachele. I'm claustrophobic and my job gives me nightmares/night terrors.
Awesome right? A few nights a week, I have terrible nightmares that almost always involve hanging out in a shipping container with Zach, then somehow Zach manages to escape while the doors are being shut and and I'm left in this small shipping container screaming while no one can hear me. I frantically bang on the door, clawing, hoping for someone to see my finger. This is where it gets fun because generally, by this point in my dream, Zach is trying wake me up while I'm flailing around and sometimes yelling.
This isn't new news. I've always done this sort of thing however, I haven't always been doing it once or twice a week. This is new and it's weird. Sometimes I get up and try to escape from my bedroom, sometimes I talk to Zach and other times, I'm just yelling, asking to be let go or let out. It's a little terrifying at times.
I mentioned this to my endocrinologist and she wants to get me into a sleep study and my primary care provider (Regular Doctor) wants to send me to a Cognitive Behavioral Therapist (Doctor who I can't pronounce her name). Oh, big words, you don't know what that means? Me either.
Basically, he (regular doctor) said this therapy will help me get over my severe fears of being enclosed in a small confined space among the other things I fear (maybe snakes). I have no clue what this entails. I'm kinda hoping for some hypnotherapy and things of that nature because A. I have never done it before and B. Maybe I can use it for material for the book I'd like to write. Which is completely narcissistic because to write, you have to assume that other people want to read your crap....(I can't decide if I should tell you fine people about the grey hair I found or save it for a book entry, I have a feeling it will be comical, but maybe not appropriate. But what is appropriate anyways?)...I digress!
I hope this will also help with my elevator issues. Not too many people know, if any at all that I have small panic attacks while I'm in an elevator. I grip the hand rail until my knuckles are white and I have to focus on my breathing or else I end up imagining the elevator cables snapping and free falling until my femurs are up into my brain. Think about THAT the next time you're in an elevator, ehh...ehhh? That's how I feel about every time I get in one.
Anyways so this week will be filled with lots of new and exciting adventures in slumberland which I am hoping to share with you all. I have my very first sleep study tomorrow night to see what exactly I do in my sleep (I.E Have terrible dreams and smack my husband around while yelling at nothing or sleep talk and carry on conversations of no literal importance). On top of that, I will have my first appointment with the Doctor who's name I can't pronounce who works odd hours (She literally works from 6 pm to 9 pm Mon-Fri) to help me get over my ridiculous fears and maybe make it so I don't accidentally smother my husband in my sleep (Which would be bad from what I have heard).
I plan on blogging my experiences, tentatively. So keep your eyes peeled and out of elevators!
Xoxo
Riley Writes
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