Dealing with my allergy to sulphur, how it feels

It feels like a victory, having an allergic reaction to the flu shot today at my doctor's office. I've had these events for over 20 years but never have I been able to chart its symptomology with a healthcare professional.
My allergy Is Real and Validated!!!!
In addition, I was able to verbalize and become more aware of exactly what the symptoms feel like.
I better start at the beginning. My allergy to sulfa, sulfur was acquired when I was 30 years old, shortly after the birth of my first noble son. I came down with an infection, both my infant son and I, and I was prescribed Bactrim which I'd been on many times before.
Shortly thereafter, either the 1st or 2nd day on the med, I started feeling odd and unwell but I just couldn't identify what was off.
I remember asking my neighbor to watch the baby and heading to the emergency room. At the ER, the doctor was rushing, moving quickly. I heard the phrase "anaphylactic shock" for the very first time directed at me. I also distinctly remember the phrases "you came close to dying" and "how does it feel to cheat death?"
I was given a shot of epinephrine and monitored diligently.
At the time, my brain could not process all this new information and I didn't have a family doctor that I was comfortable enough with to query. A few days later, it hit me with full force. At the follow up dr appointment, I again was met with the phrase "you almost died." Scary stuff for this Multiple Autistic. That event really did rock my world.
I knew I was allergic to Bactrim but I wasn't aware that sulfa lurked in many foods. I learned the hard way via minor and major reactions that sulfa was in eggs, mayonnaise, wine, champagne and various fruits and vegetables. It probably took me a good year to fully research and comprehend all the affected foods.
It became unsafe, unwise to eat in restaurants or even get takeout. Organic and pesticide free became the way to go.
Anyway, jumping back to how my body feels when exposed to sulfa....I start to feel odd and foggy. My body gets sluggish and feels heavy and awkward. I start shaking often in waves. My heart races, which I Used to attribute to panic but alas, tis not the case. My blood pressure rises, pulse quickens and respirations slow down. My thoughts get dull and my speech slows to a drunken drawl. There is an unusual sensation directly behind my navel...like a shock, a wound?, alarming sensation. My hands, arms and feet sometimes tingle or feel cold.
My doctor, God bless her, was able to see me before, during and after the allergic reaction!!!! I just want to cry because people have treated me like I was a fake, a hypochondriac, an attention seeker. Hell, even I didn't fully trust myself and what I was feeling! Having her as a witness, check my vital signs and seeing the different Overt symptoms makes me feel so GD happy!!! I'm not faking!!!!!!
Doctor promptly gave me benadryl and she sat and talked with me for almost an hour till the symptoms passed and I felt somewhat steady.
Wow, what a day! Who Knew I'd welcome an allergic reaction and rejoice in it!!!

Holding my breath above water

How many times did I hold my breath in fear? Anticipating the next thrust or blow? As if by holding my breath I could create a wall, a barrier and not feel the impending pain.
How many times did I hold my breath pretending to make myself small, insignificant, invisible? If they don't see me, they can't grab and hurt me.
How many times did I hold my breath to stem the flow of tears? For if they saw my pain it would have made them smile. Or if I had started crying I was afraid I would never stop.
I held my breath cause I didn't want to feel. I didn't want to be. I wanted to drift away into the nothingness.
I held my breath in protest, in defiance as a way of standing up while being pushed down and stomped.
Mostly, thou mostly, I held my breath to try and stop the hell of my reality. To stop the pain. I held my breath...to breath would have made what they were doing to me...real

An Act of God, The depths of aloneness

I've come to fully realize that an intimate relationship is not in my hand of cards. The amount of effort, energy and time required to find someone isn't going happen in my world. The very real fear of another abusive, toxic relationship can be avoided by not putting myself out there as wounded bait.
I'm Not Looking.
Unless an Act of God, a Godthing puts the right, healthy person directly in my path and shines a holy light on their head, I shall not be looking for love.
I accept the fact that I'm rather broken. I live each day awash in damage done. I work to heal and fix myself as much as the scars can be lessened.
It doesn't make me angry or upset, as this is simply where I am at. I can look in the mirror and see who I am.
I can look at my past and see the trouble, the dysfunction and damage caused by loving the wrong person.
Avoidance causes less pain than cruel, callous partners.
I choose less pain.

The depth of my despair

Therapy, yesterday, was the closest I have yet come to being able to share, to put words to, the depth of my despair. Aka, my long suffering existence.
My pain is thick, having been painted on in broad and small strokes day after day from 1-20. My childhood is a few words: brutal, torture and incestuous.
My teen years, moments of freedom and semblance of "normalacy" coupled with moments in fathers bed.
Ah, then a brief respite, a marriage and a move out of town only to descend into the madness of memories, fizzling flashbacks and pure chaos, a living breathing hell.
At 23, my first psychiatric hospitalization. Days filled with jobs I couldn't work and flopping on beds of resentful relatives.
At 26, failed suicide, a cry for help, a 200 mile drive, Center One Ward and the diagnosis....Multiple Personality Disorder. The truth revealed.
The incest a secret no more.
Answers to my pain, my anguish and unfathomable distress.
Three decades later...I continue to fight against the rapes, the threats and the aloneness of being lost within.
Healing, pulling myself together, each day...surviving....it is all I know. It's what I do best...drag my sorry ass through the pain for yet another day.
Sigh.
Maybe yesterday, just maybe, I've come a step closer to revealing who I really am and how I've suffered all these 54 years.

Sobering, Living with CPTSD and MPD, the Autistic Multiple Speaks

There are few things more sobering than receiving ones medical records in the mail unexpectedly and seeing that I've been treated for my created CPTSD and MPD since I was 23 years old.
30 plus years of hospitalizations, psychiatrists, counselors, medication and insanity. This has been my life. It's all that I am. I am a weary, battle fatigued soldier who has been fighting for my life and my insanity every single day.
Diagnosed with Multiple Personality Disorder at 26. 20 years of weekly and biweekly therapy. Days spent counting down to the next therapy session.
Notebook upon notebook of journal notes attempting to stay orientated and functional.
It's a sad life but it's all I got.

Living and Managing Lichen Sclerosis

I've learned a number of tactics to keep my LS under control:
1) Estrace- one, pea-sized dab to the affected areas 2-3 times per week.
2) Low Oxalate diet. I've dealt with gout, kidney stones and gallstones, so going Low Ox is ideal for me. I've basically eliminated or cut way back on foods that upset my digestion. I actually feel best eating my limited diet of hamburger, rice, potatoes, gluten free Corn Chex, bananas, apples and small amounts of chocolate.
Anything that gives me an upset stomach, tomatoe sauces, hot dogs, almonds, spinach is no longer regular fare. I feel so much better eating low ox.
3) Probiotics. I eat plain yogurt daily, usually a few tablespoons. At times I will purchase high quality Probiotics. I don't bother buying any that do not require refrigeration as they tend to be of lower quality and potency.
Those are the three main things that work for me.
Other treatments that help that I've read about: Red Clover Tea, Apple Cider Vinegar, Honey applied daily.
Feel free to share your struggle and what, if anything has helped.

I've always been a depressed insomniac and some things will never change

Sometimes you just have to accept who you are and realize it's not going to change. I think I've been putting too much effort into trying to turn concrete into sand.
I can see now that I have continually had low level depression with sporadic, isolated instances of happiness, which looks a lot like mania. It's quite clear why I've been diagnosed with manic depression a couple of times before. It Looks Like It. Ha, but it's just autistic me.
My antidepressant medication keeps me barely floating and works just fine. I've probably tried a dozen other antiD meds which resulted in disappointing side effects. Basically, this is as good as it gets. No use complaining or trying to make it improve.
Maybe I'm just learning to give up on lost causes...sleeping at night, therapy and not being depressed.
Sleep meds have proven to be nightmares. So I've tried to be productive with my nighttime hours. I can't ever see it changing.
I throw my hands up in the air but it's better than frustrated fists.
I'm lonely but without the ability, the energy and the mental means to have a relationship. Just gotta get used to that. It sure feels like a double bind...wanting something and not having the means to procure it.
Nope, I'm not sad or even bummed. I call it harsh reality.
I'm so sick of all this "love love love" crap which is something I haven't experienced nor will I ever. The distress of just getting through the day is more then I can handle as it is.
I'll continue my avoidance protocol, only doing all the things that need to be done. The fewest appointments and interactions as possible. I even stopped acupuncture because the stress was more then the benefit. That plus having to drive to a nearby town with traffic and all. It just didn't add up anymore.
Maybe I'm becoming more calculating, wiser and prioritizing better. My son comes first and his needs are many. It's easy for me to do for him. It's my priority. He's my guy. I'm taking care of me, too.
Low-level reclusive living works best for this autistic.