Anxiety Dreams: Mental Health and Dementia

It’s been quite a while since I had a night of disturbed sleep like I did this past night. Every time I drifted off, I seemed to drop into one of my anxiety dreams. I’m going to get vulnerable, and share some things I don’t often speak of, so hang on.

Those dreams tend to come in one of two flavors. In one, I’m lost and/or separated from my companions, and cannot find my way back to them. In another, I’m trying to accomplish some task or another, and everything is going wrong. There’s usually an element of confusion to that version. Both play strongly into my latent fear of dementia.

My father had lived with dementia for at least a couple of years before he passed. Both grandmothers, and my one biological grandfather, were the same. So there is a strong familial tendency toward that issue. The other grandfather? He committed suicide while my mother was very young.

I have often stated that I would never want to live like that. To not know who I was, or who those around me were. It must be a horrible way to live. I fought hard to find myself, and to lose that self-awareness, regardless the reason, is terrifying to me. No, I won’t take my own life. There are people who would be immeasurably hurt by such as action.

I fear that I’d almost certainly be forcibly detransitioned by whatever care home I ended up in. Because that’s where I would be. There’s no one in my life who could, or would, take on that burden. Nor would I ever ask it of anyone. Yes, I know, in that case, I probably wouldn’t be aware that had happened. It doesn’t change the here and now strong feelings I have about it. Just writing about it as a possible future is painful.

In other news, I woke this morning to a fibro flare. My pain level is about twice my norm. Today, it’s centered in my thighs. It feels like what I can only guess is how post-marathon feels. I only have OTC pain killers. I took the maximum dose at 3:30 am, and again a few minutes ago. They will dull the pain, but never eliminate it. This is my life. I knew when I relocated here that the cold would make my fibro worse. But I was not safe in Georgia.

The journey still continues, even if it makes me grumpy and sad on days like today.

Side note: WP’s AI moderation system is flagging this post for some unexplained reason. I suppose that means many of you will never see it. So be it.

Tags: dementia, fibro, fibromyalgia, Mental Health, spoonie