(no subject)
I took off my armor.
I took it off and I'm fine. I'm doing good.
This thought just occurred to me and for some reason I wanted to write it down. But I guess I've got to give a little background on it.
Last Friday I triggered myself into one hell of a stress reaction. Couldn't sleep or eat or do anything but cry and try and make myself go through the motions of going to my company holiday party because I had to go. Full stop. No other way. Well by Monday morning that tenuous grasp I had completely dissolved and I went through a full blown panic attack: hysterical crying, heart beating like I'm running a marathon, hyperventilating to nearly passing out, which actually I liked the hyperventilating because it felt better than trying to throw up.
So I up and go to the urgent care because it's something tangible that I can do for myself. I don't think they can do anything to help but at least I was trying, I was taking a step to make it stop. They actually did a lot, not just from the nurses who were sweet to me and the doctor who said that well I can't do anything to fix the anxiety, but let's run a lot of tests and make sure nothing else is wrong. And good news is there is nothing wrong, not with my heart or thyroid or sugar levels. I'm all fine. And I was handed a bottle of hydroxyzine to help when the attacks happen.
I have only taken one pill but just the fact that I know I have them if I need them helps so much. It's like my bottle of Vicoden I haven't touched- I have it if I need it. And so far ever since I haven't needed it.
The sheer amount of stress I'm under right now it's not surprising that I finally broke, what's surprising is that I lasted so long. Because it's been going on for a long while now and it's no end in sight. And the straw that broke the camel's back was so utterly stupid that I can't believe it happened, but I guess it's good. Because this is one hell of a way of teaching myself to live in the moment, let me tell you.
But I'm now taking things one at a time. Even if that means I have to talk myself into placing one foot in front of the other, or tell myself that right now I'm just doing this one thing, I'm just typing. Nothing else matters. One at a time, and I can do this. I'm doing so good and I'm so proud of myself and I know I sound crazy but I'm not being factitious- I have to tell myself this for every little thing, whether it's finishing an email or washing a dish. And sometimes I still get overwhelmed and I have to lay down, whether on the couch or under my desk, clutch a stuffed animal to my chest (even though I'm 30), and breathe. My armor for the last few days has been an over sized sweatshirt that was my dad's.
And sometimes it's still really hard, but I'm so proud of myself.
I took it off and I'm fine. I'm doing good.
This thought just occurred to me and for some reason I wanted to write it down. But I guess I've got to give a little background on it.
Last Friday I triggered myself into one hell of a stress reaction. Couldn't sleep or eat or do anything but cry and try and make myself go through the motions of going to my company holiday party because I had to go. Full stop. No other way. Well by Monday morning that tenuous grasp I had completely dissolved and I went through a full blown panic attack: hysterical crying, heart beating like I'm running a marathon, hyperventilating to nearly passing out, which actually I liked the hyperventilating because it felt better than trying to throw up.
So I up and go to the urgent care because it's something tangible that I can do for myself. I don't think they can do anything to help but at least I was trying, I was taking a step to make it stop. They actually did a lot, not just from the nurses who were sweet to me and the doctor who said that well I can't do anything to fix the anxiety, but let's run a lot of tests and make sure nothing else is wrong. And good news is there is nothing wrong, not with my heart or thyroid or sugar levels. I'm all fine. And I was handed a bottle of hydroxyzine to help when the attacks happen.
I have only taken one pill but just the fact that I know I have them if I need them helps so much. It's like my bottle of Vicoden I haven't touched- I have it if I need it. And so far ever since I haven't needed it.
The sheer amount of stress I'm under right now it's not surprising that I finally broke, what's surprising is that I lasted so long. Because it's been going on for a long while now and it's no end in sight. And the straw that broke the camel's back was so utterly stupid that I can't believe it happened, but I guess it's good. Because this is one hell of a way of teaching myself to live in the moment, let me tell you.
But I'm now taking things one at a time. Even if that means I have to talk myself into placing one foot in front of the other, or tell myself that right now I'm just doing this one thing, I'm just typing. Nothing else matters. One at a time, and I can do this. I'm doing so good and I'm so proud of myself and I know I sound crazy but I'm not being factitious- I have to tell myself this for every little thing, whether it's finishing an email or washing a dish. And sometimes I still get overwhelmed and I have to lay down, whether on the couch or under my desk, clutch a stuffed animal to my chest (even though I'm 30), and breathe. My armor for the last few days has been an over sized sweatshirt that was my dad's.
And sometimes it's still really hard, but I'm so proud of myself.