It's not just a bad day

Today, I'm looking up.  I have so many things to be grateful for in my life.  I don't have room for anything but blessings.  I'm a strong, spirited, loved, faithful, driven, and BLESSED woman. 

That is what I keep telling myself.  It's what pulled me out of bed. It's what allowed me to get up, move, speak, get dressed, drive my son to daycare so I could start my work day, and drink this coffee.  And now here I sit, feeling like the world is closing in all around me, my happiness stolen by my fears and anxiety and my heart struggling to hold the weight of it all. 

Every word that comes out of my mouth lately is doom and gloom.  Everything I see prompts some type of sorrow or negativity.  I feel helpless, out of control, and defeated. I can't see the light of hope any more. I've searched my heart and soul trying to figure out why I'm feeling this way and why I can't seem to change it.  There doesn't seem to be any one thing that I can change, one thing that happened to break me like this, one thing to try to conquer.  I can say that the stress of the new job, stress I created and allowed to manifest is likely a big part of it.  A big, big part of it.  But I allowed this to happen.  I'm an intelligent person.  I knew this would be challenging, leaving everything I knew in the work world to start something brand new at 47 years old.  I knew I would be on my own a lot. On my own all day, every day, actually.  i knew there would be a lot of moments where I felt lost, trying to find my way. And ironically, every good moment I have, thinking it'll be ok and I'll figure it out, every time I feel like I did something useful or beneficial, I think I'm turning a corner and things are starting to look up.  And then I fall, again. This feeling, a feeling of failure, has me obsessing about every decision I've ever made in my entire life. I'm questioning everything.  I'm wondering who I really am.  If God only gives me what I can handle, why do I feel so overwhelmed and unable to move? Why do I feel like people look at me and see someone who doesn't really exist? All these years, all the things I've survived and made it through and I've never felt so weak in my life. I just want to breathe. I just want to look in the mirror and smile.  I want my children to look up to me, not worry about me. I want to know where I disappeared to.  Where is the strength, the confidence, the faith, the perseverance, the zest for life I used to possess? I don't want to move. I don't want to talk. I don't want to go anywhere or do anything.  I just can't. Everything hurts, mentally and physically,  

Every day I wake up hurting, in my heart, in my mind, in my back and shoulders.  But I get up and go.  I put a smile on my face to appease and silence the questions that will undoubtedly send me off on some tear filled rant that without a doubt will get me absolutely no where. I do what is necessary because anything more will tip the scales just enough that I fear the consequences. It's no one's fault but my own that I am feeling this way so I don't want to involve them. Paranoia sets in and I start to wonder if they are doing the same.  Pretending to be ok because they don't want to upset me. If they are upset and they need me, what good am I to them, like this? I can't even help myself. All I do is worry from the time I get out of bed until I fall back to sleep.  Then I dream about all the things I wish I could change and have nightmares about the things that I can't.

Will I ever be happy again? Will I ever be able to stop pretending and find the strength to get past this and just live? Maybe this new job isn't helping with this depression or whatever I'm feeling but it didn't start there.  So many things have built up to this in my life and I feel like I'm drowning. This is my problem, no one else's. And I don't know what to do about it. I'm so lost. I'm so hurt. I'm so mad at myself. I feel sick. I feel worthless, helpless, and needy. I need help. And I don't know how to get it. I don't know how or where or when to ask for help. I've always just powered through everything that's come my way in life. I've always found a way to get through it and somehow feel a little stronger because of it. But this weight is no longer one that I can carry. 

So today, I'm looking up. With my heart, my mind, and my arms open wide. I'm looking up.

This was me three days ago.  I wrote this, but I couldn't post it.  Part of me wanted to share it because I knew there was no way I could be the only person going through something like this.  Part of me wanted to post it because it was easier than making a phone call and bothering someone just because I was having a bad day.  I didn't post it.  I read it at least a dozen times.  I sobbed the entire time.  I felt guilty just reading it. I felt selfish, and childish.  I kept telling myself to grow up and act like an adult, to stop whining, to suck it up.  I closed my laptop and went back to 'work', sobbing through what was left of the day.  The next day, I put on my big girl panties and went down to my office.  I figured working from home that day would only prompt more of the same and it was less likely I would start crying in public. About an hour in, I called my Dr., who I haven't seen in 2 years to schedule an appointment.  It was long overdue and I had to refocus because every single fiber of my being was fighting at that moment and I knew I couldn't continue like that.  I worried about driving myself home. I worried about other people in the building asking me if I was ok and being unable to speak without breaking down and making a fool of myself. I was physically sick, my heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest and it hurt, my right arm was hurting, I felt light headed, the lightning bolts in my chest were terrifying and my vision was blurry.  I was shaking so bad and thought for sure I was going to vomit everywhere.  I thought I was having a heart attack. Then I thought I was just crazy.

I headed home around 1130 a.m. once I felt like I could walk through the lobby without losing composure. All the way home, I cried.  I beat myself mentally for the lack of self control, the weakness, the embarrassment, the nonsense of what I was doing. When I got home, I set up shop and went back to 'work', hoping to occupy my overreacting, obviously crazy mind.  About 20 minutes in, I gave up.  I laid on the couch and cried for a while and started to doze off.  It was the strangest feeling.  I was afraid to tell my husband because I didn't want him to worry about me.  I mean, I was clearly being a big baby and just needed some rest or something. I didn't want to put more stress on him than he's already dealing with. I didn't want my kids to see me like that and worry.  But the longer I laid there, the more negative my thoughts got.  The chest pains persisted, the arm pain persisted, I still felt nauseous, my head was pounding, my vision was still blurred, I was still shaking, and I could feel the world caving in on me.  I wanted to run, but where would I go? I wanted it to stop all of it but I couldn't stop it.  This storm brewing inside me was eating me alive.  

My son, who is in the process of moving out of my house came into the room, getting things ready to load into his car and talking about his new place.  I know he knew something was off but he didn't say anything.  Eventually I told him I was having a rough day but that I was going to see the Dr. in the morning.  I tried  SO hard to pretend I was ok.  I even offered to help him.  I let him pack my truck up with things to follow him over to the new place thinking that would get my mind in a better place, or at least off all the negativity.  I texted my husband to tell him what I was doing.  Never mind that there was a monsoon happening outside, I needed this. After that trip, and about 2 hours of clenched teeth and fake smiles we came home and I sat on the couch where I stayed for the rest of the night. I was so mentally and physically exhausted that just breathing felt like a chore. The nightmares and the physical aches and pains woke me at least 5 times so I was up for good around 4am.  I made it through the routine stuff and headed to my Dr., by myself. I can't even begin to tell you how difficult that was.  The chest pains alone had me terrified, driving by myself.  I was convinced my Dr. was going to scold me and send me to the ER for what would inevitably be a heart attack or stroke. 

About 6 minutes into my appointment she told me to contact my husband to come get me and take me to the ER.  

Reluctantly, I called him. Why did I feel so reluctant? She just confirmed what I feared. She agreed I should've gone the night before.  And she was adamant about me not driving myself.  I was not only kicking myself for not going to the ER but also because I knew how much it would cost.  I knew that what I was feeling was likely stress induced. I knew I had reached a new low with this worry and fear.  But I also knew I needed to be sure it wasn't something involving my heart.  Because that would be an even bigger problem.  

All the way to the hospital I was riddled with guilt. Guilt for having my husband leave work. Guilt for having to rack up another Dr. bill. Guilt for allowing myself to get this low and not having the strength to make it better on my own. Guilt for not being stronger. Guilt for putting more worry and stress on my husband and my children.  My heart started beating faster and harder and I felt like I was going to throw up all over the truck.  I don't even want to go into detail about all the thoughts that went through my head for 3 solid days because it's embarrassing...and it scares me to death.

The EKG looked good.  The blood work looked good. My vitals looked pretty normal.  My BP was elevated but not 'high'. My X-rays were clear. My strep, flu and COVID tests were all negative.  I was fine.

Part of me was so confused.  Why was my body doing all these things if there was nothing wrong with me? What was I doing in the ER?

This was not just a bad day. This was not just me being a little overwhelmed. This was not just a sign that I need a break or a vacation.  This is a big deal. This is what stress can do to  your mind and your body.  I literally thought I was having a heart attack. I've been strong through a lot of things in my life that should've destroyed me but apparently I was saving it all up for another day.  Yesterday. I sat in that ER room for a couple hours talking with my husband while I waited for all the results of all the tests.  He made me realize a few things.  I'm human.  I've been under a tremendous amount of stress because of my work situation and a ton of other unresolved things that likely resurfaced because of how stressed I've been for the last month or so. It's a lot for anyone, not just me.  But it won't stay like this.  I can do things to make it better.  And I will be ok.

This morning I woke up with a new perspective.  I still have chest pain.  My arm still hurts, I still feel like I could puke. My eyes are still blurry. I still have a killer headache.  I still have the weight of the world on my shoulders.  The stress is still there, living in my head, my heart, my muscles and bones. And I still feel guilty for not recognizing this sooner, worrying my husband so badly, and having to go to the ER to realize that I'm just that stressed. The only way I am going to be able to get through this is by recognizing it and making changes in my life.  I'll still worry, I'm sure.  It's what I do best. But if I don't find a way to deal with things in a more productive way, this disease, this death grip, will destroy me.  I'll be no good to myself or my family.  What started off as a decision to better myself and provide more for my family manifested into this monster of an anxiety attack. And I NEVER want to go through this again. 

If you are feeling stressed or overwhelmed with emotions because of the weight that life puts on you, address it. Talk to someone. Make changes. Take care of yourself the way you would if it was someone you love going through it.  Don't put it off until you have time or just expect it to go away.  Don't say things like, "I'll be fine" and then walk around suffering in silence. Stress is a killer.  It kills you slowly.  It will rob you of all of your happiness, your confidence, your life. It's not just a bad day if it happens every day or even for more than ONE day.  I will not be silent about it because it's not something I can deal with alone and I know this now.  The next time it could be a heart attack. And while I will ALWAYS be looking up, I'll also be looking inward because no one can fix it if I'm not willing to help. <3