Infected by phobias

[Guest guest]

From as far back as I can remember my mother infected us children with

phobias. She wanted to make sure we worried so she wouldn't have to

-- about us dying from preventable causes from drowning to eating

toxic plants.

When I first went away to university I lived in a dormitory. One day

I phoned my mother and said that my roommate was gone for the weekend.

This was absolutely the wrong thing to do. Despite my living in a

girls' only dorm with visitor monitoring, my mother insisted that I

check and doublecheck the lock on the door and wasn't happy about my

being alone.

When I was considering emigrating to Canada she objected with a number

of arguments, including the fact that if I were attacked and whacked

over the head and fell unconscious, I could easily freeze to death in

the winter. Pointing out to her that anyone who would whack me would

likely finish the job, didn't help.

I developed panic disorder in my early twenties and battled from

house-bound agoraphobic back to fully functional, but the agoraphobia

lingers. I still fight it.

The " infection " with these phobias did two things: it was NOT

respectful of my personal boundaries once I was an adult; and it

controlled me by influencing my choices. There were many times when I

refused to listen and went ahead with my plans, but the constant

barrage of dire predictions took its toll.

I used to think my mother was a bit " careful " with us, but I now know

that telling your adult daughter that she shouldn't emigrate for fear

of freezing to death after an assault..... is extreme.

Anyone else with a story like this?

Caroline.

[Guest guest]

Hi Caroline,

I can completely relate to your story of being infected with fear and phobias.

My BP mom actually inspected my body throughout my childhood and was constantly

looking for physical deformities and illnesses. Several times, in front of

company, she would have me pull up the back of my shirt and bend over so other

people could weigh in on whether or not they thought I had curvature of the

spine. Turns out I did have a little bit of a curve, but it was no big deal and

wasn't even enough to be treated. Still - it made me feel so defective. She

was always examining my structure to see if I was lopsided. She also said that

I was allergic to chocolate, Kool-Aid, and anything with artificial color or

flavoring and told me how lucky I was to have a great mother who was " keeping me

alive " in spite of all my allergies and perceived illnesses. I also worred

about toxic plants and knew which ones could kill me from an early age.

It's no surprise that I, like you, developed panic disorder as a young adult.

Panic disorder is something I know a lot about because it did not exist as a

named illness back in late seventies and early eighties. It took me years and

numerous visits to just about every kind of doctor until I found out what I had.

My panic attacks took the form of racing heart, sweating, and feeling like I was

having an out of body experience. I saw neurologists looking for brain tumors

and multiple scleroris. I had nerve conductivity tests in my legs, MRI's and

CAT scans with and without contrast, numerous echo cardiograms of my heart,

stress tests in my early twenties, dental fillings replaced, you name it. I

remember I actually cried several times when I received negative test results

because I was just so desperate for an answer.

Then, one amazing day a neurologist said to me - " I think you have something

they are calling Panic Disorder. " He gave me the name of a therapist and I

began to finally receive help. I was 27 and had been suffering for nearly a

decade. I learned that my Mom's constant inspecting of me and my health had

caused me to become hypervigilant about my body. I was aware of every

heartbeat, every breath I took in. The least little twinge of a muscle would

send me into a complete health meltdown because I had been programmed to be sick

from such a young age. The therapist said my nerves were completely shot from

being " on alert " for so long.

I could go on and on about this, but I wound up taking some antidepressants that

stopped the cycle of panic and saying " what if " every time I had an ache or a

pain. I also carefully used Xanax in the beginning because the therapist

insisted that I had to give my body a break. The disorder made me terrified of

taking meds and any side effects that they might cause, but my therapist and my

husband who had seen me through numerous trips to the ER when I was " dying "

insisted that I take them and they started to work almost immediately. By the

time I received help, I also was nearly housebound. I had watched my circle of

travel shrink to within a few miles of my home. Even though I consider myself

to be recovered, I completely understand your struggle. I admit that there are

still times when I feel a little overwhelmed by being out or a little too far

away from home. In my work life I had to do a fair amount of business travel.

I was a completely

phobic flier and every trip was complete torture for me.

In addition to the perceived illness phobias my mom bestowed upon me, she also

warned me constantly about getting raped, murdered, or kidnapped. She was

always warning me about how easy it was for someone to stick me with a needle in

order to drug me. Once when I was at a high school dance, a boy I didn't know

asked me dance. When we got onto the dance floor, I put my arms around his neck

and the pin from his carnation boutonniere stuck me in the underside of my

forearm. This was back in the eighties when everyone still did the whole

corsage/boutonniere thing. When the pin stuck me, my head started to spin, I

felt dizzy and I thought my mom's prediction had finally come true. I remember

that the boy was talking to me and I heard nothing he said.. I went into the

Twighlight Zone. When the song was over, I staggered back to my chair and

waited to keel over from the drugs. When nothing happened, I didn't know

whether to feel lucky or like an idiot.

So - I hear you. I think the BP mother creates this constant threat of danger

because it helps to keep the daughter, who is her target, close to her. I know

it made me feel like I needed my mother above everyone else in my life. Even if

she was mean and horrible to me, how could I not love her because she was

constantly saving my life? It's such a viscious way to try to control someone,

isn't it?

Have you gotten help for your panic disorder and is it working for you? I would

be happy to answer any questions you have about anything to do with it -

therapy, meds, health issues, etc. Just ask.

Take care,

Tag

Infected by phobias

From as far back as I can remember my mother infected us children with

phobias. She wanted to make sure we worried so she wouldn't have to

-- about us dying from preventable causes from drowning to eating

toxic plants.

When I first went away to university I lived in a dormitory. One day

I phoned my mother and said that my roommate was gone for the weekend.

This was absolutely the wrong thing to do. Despite my living in a

girls' only dorm with visitor monitoring, my mother insisted that I

check and doublecheck the lock on the door and wasn't happy about my

being alone.

When I was considering emigrating to Canada she objected with a number

of arguments, including the fact that if I were attacked and whacked

over the head and fell unconscious, I could easily freeze to death in

the winter. Pointing out to her that anyone who would whack me would

likely finish the job, didn't help.

I developed panic disorder in my early twenties and battled from

house-bound agoraphobic back to fully functional, but the agoraphobia

lingers. I still fight it.

The " infection " with these phobias did two things: it was NOT

respectful of my personal boundaries once I was an adult; and it

controlled me by influencing my choices. There were many times when I

refused to listen and went ahead with my plans, but the constant

barrage of dire predictions took its toll.

I used to think my mother was a bit " careful " with us, but I now know

that telling your adult daughter that she shouldn't emigrate for fear

of freezing to death after an assault..... is extreme.

Anyone else with a story like this?

Caroline.

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[Guest guest]

> Even though I consider myself to be recovered, I completely

understand > your struggle. I admit that there are still times when I

feel a

> little overwhelmed by being out or a little too far away from home.

> In my work life I had to do a fair amount of business travel. I was a

> completely phobic flier and every trip was complete torture for me.

When I was younger I had the opportunity to go on many business trips,

but had agreements with my managers that I would not fly.

Now that I'm older (still in same field) I don't have to travel for

business, but I choose to travel for pleasure. Even then it's hell.

Being " forced " to travel on business, when one has to keep a clear

head and the hours are long, would be much much harder.

I consider myself " recovered " but I also accept that this is a

lifelong disorder which takes a varying course over time. I also pick

my battles and push myself only when *I* feel something is important.

I refuse to let the walls close in around me, though, and while I

dread 10-hour flights, I can do them.

I think depression and PD are like alcoholism: you do recover and

cope but you may relapse and you have to take action to keep the

conditions at bay.

My tuppence,

Caroline.