Yesterday was a bad, bad day.
The bad that fills you and paralyzes your being.
The first sign for me is my vision. My peripheral is gone and with the narrow view is difficult to navigate.
The room spins and I move to the bed to settle myself.
My head begins to pound and my breathing becomes laboured.
Just sit with it, I say.
Just sit with it.
But it’s not working.
My son has finished his at home school work for the day and thankfully has screen time and is wearing a headset and I am grateful he cannot hear me holding back my uncontrollable sobs.
I think the worst thing about an anxiety attack is that it can come out of no where. There are times when you can feel anxious, but an anxiety attack is something else entirely.
It makes you feel weak, confused, dizzy, out of breath, tired, and completely defeated. This helpless feeling lasts minutes for some and up to hours for others.
This is my 3rd attack, and mine stay for hours.
My first one was on my way to work.
My second happened while shopping.
And this one happened while cooking.
Even though this was my third one, it still scares me. I don’t like the feeling of not being in control. The feeling of being taken over by something that you can’t make end, is THE worst feeling ever.
Logically I know that it will pass. And it will. But when you are in it time goes by very slow and the pain is very deep.
Around the point when I felt scared for myself, I made the call to my husband. He wasn’t surprised as he felt that I was heading down the path for this attack. I had been extremely emotional the night before. Feeling so much guilt for all the lack of self isolation tasks that I haven’t completed yet.
Knowing that I have this time at home to do ALL THE THINGS and only getting SOME OF THE THINGS done is stressing me out!!!
I want to lose weight, I want to be THE BEST home school teacher, I want my son to listen to everything I am saying, and get that when he doesn’t my anxiety kicks in…he doesn’t seem to get it!
I want to try ALL the awesome recipes out there.
Get my 10,000 steps in a day, and have an immaculately clean house.
That night though, even though I had accomplished some great things, I felt behind.
Like there is a finish line everyday and I am just coming so close, but never cross the line.
So instead of feeling like a winner, I am ending each day feeling like a loser.
There in is the recipe for an anxiety attack. Unbeknownst to me.
Because my husband could see things clearer than I could, he set me up with a small task.
Get a routine.
3 Simple goals.
Have breakfast, lunch and supper at scheduled times and do not veer from that schedule. Then everything else will fall into place.
I felt better hearing this simple idea.
I feel so scattered and unfocused because I am just figuring it out as the days goes by.
Waking up late and stumbling along, creating the ideas and projects as I think of them. With no logical way to complete them.
I can do this I told him.
Are you okay? Should I come home?
I am okay …. I lie.
We get off the phone and I walk around the house. Laundry was my one task I wanted to complete before the days end. I throw another load in and bring the fourth basket to the bedroom.
The wave comes again. I have to hold onto the dresser as my vision goes.
Everything is dark and my eyes hurt.
I sit down on the ground and wait.
Screw the laundry.
I need to take care of me.
I need to lay down.
The day is ruined and nothing is going to get done.
I tell myself that this is okay.
It is okay.
Tomorrow is another day.
We have got to get to tomorrow though.
I give myself permission to end my day and crawl into bed.
As I lay there, the room is spinning and all I feel is fear.
I know now that hearing a voice of reason is good for me.
I call my mother.
I just need to talk for a minute. I just need to let someone know what is going on.
We talk until my heart rate slows down and I begin to drift off.
We hang up.
It is dark now.
The day is coming to an end.
My son comes in and he only knows that my tummy hurts.
We cuddle and I feel myself clinging to him and his warmth and softness fills me.
I feel for the first-time content that he is okay.
He is safe.
He got to play video games for most of the day, so for him this was the best day ever.
I won’t feel guilt for this.
I know that I was dealing with much bigger things than worrying about screen time.
I hear the front door open and my husband is home.
I sign with a sense of relief.
He comes in and puts Logan to bed.
He kisses me on the forehead and tells me he loves me and we will talk in the morning.
I feel his love.
I can now close my eyes and go to sleep.
I will make it through this day.
As the night envelopes me and begins its healing I drift off.
Safe and secure.
Knowing this is almost over.
And it was.
The sun came up this morning. As I lay in bed everything felt okay. I felt okay. I got through it.
It’s a new day.
And I am thankful.