The Run of Panic

I can't adequately explain what it's like to wake up and know you're not ok. That the moment your eyes open you know you are simply not ok. The anxiety begins to course moving rapidly from your brain to your limbs and your stomach, sending it churning and your limbs feeling both overly sensitive and disconnected from your body. Then the panic begins, the beating and racing heart, a feeling of spiraling impending. The moment it begins you try to breathe, try to find your center, and yet you know that today those tricks are not going to work. That today, because you did not sleep well the night before and were unable to utilize your tools you are going to have to work at not having a massive panic attack.

I awoke in a strange bed after a rough night. I fell asleep uneasily, woke repeatedly with my mind racing, questions and conversations that needed to be had in the near future circling in my brain. Being in a different place I did not have my tools, my journal had been forgotten at home, no paper in the room I was in, and my phone battery dying so mindless scrolling, a game, or even writing there not an option. I took deep breaths, performed my visualizations, and simply prayed for sleep. It came, it went, the dreams were vivid and odd, not disturbing, just odd. I awoke to the morning doves calling and was at least reminded of a pleasant memory and dear friend, and then came the crash. I waited impatiently in my bed for time to pass so as not to disturb the others in the household, breathing and praying. Dressed I stepped quietly down the stairs and booted my work laptop to charge my phone and distract myself for a while. I found mindless tasks to distract me for an hour or so until my phone was charged enough to go for a run.

I prayed the run would move some of the anxiety and panic from my body. My heart was already beating fast and I knew this would not be an easy run, so I set out to run a simple 5k in unfamiliar territory. As I sat on the floor lacing my shoes, somewhat soothing music playing in my ears a friend found me and wished me good morning. I mustered a response, turned back to finishing my shoes, tears pooling in my eyes as I became overwhelmed and wanting nothing more than to go to my friend for a hug. Fear and anxiety kept me back, and knowledge that I did need to move my body, pound the pavement and put this adrenaline to some use. The run was hard, my legs wanted to quit, my heart-rate took forever to stabilize and I struggled to find the rhythm that I knew I had been achieving these past 2 weeks. I began to beg for tears, hoping that they would help me release more, yet the tears could not and did not come. I reached the halfway point and realized I had missed a turn somewhere, found myself lost momentarily in this new town. Thankful for an app with a map I found the turns necessary to make it back. A few sprints in the driveway to help clear away the last of the panic and I clocked in at 4 miles.

I breathed, I sat briefly for a picture and a vulnerable Instagram post. I breathed and paced and worked towards centering myself. Finally feeling a brief sense of respite I walked to the door to find my friend standing there with a worried look and "what's wrong?", I shook my head as my heart started to pound and I felt my chest seize, I squeezed out the words "panic, anxiety" and dashed out the door, headphones, phone, arm band in hand. Off I flew to my car, dropping them on my bumper as the panic rushed through my body. I was trapped, needing to flee my own body and yet there was no where to go. I ripped out my ponytail, pulled at my hair, shook my head, tried to take deep breaths, paced, and tried to find a way to escape and also calm myself. I heard noises, but I couldn't focus, my vision blurry as I withdrew inward wanting to escape the torture that was my body. Hands on the car bumper I hung my head, trying to breathe, alternating bending and straightening my knees as if pushing invisible pedals that would propel me away from myself.  If there were thoughts I could not manage them, nor can I recall them now. I heard a voice, indistinguishable as I formed a cup around my nose and mouth and did the best I could to focus on my breathing, knowing that centered breathing was my only hope. Yoga breathing and alternate nostril breathing could not be attempted, I could not coordinate my body to do more than it was doing. I was trapped within this disconnected organism, my skin crawling and my body shaking. Arms enveloped me and held me still, my knees and legs shaking at times. Maybe there were words, maybe there was silence, I cannot recall. I know that the physical presence, the rhythmic breathing of another individual was holding me together. A brief moment or maybe minutes later and I was able to embrace them, rest my head on their chest and begin to feel my body again, slowly. How long we stood in the driveway in this embrace I know not, yet it was what I needed. A shift in both of us and we walked quietly to the house where I sipped water and tried to find the words that would not come.

I thought I was fine as I stood there, but my dear friend knew otherwise. Asked me if I needed something more, asked me a question or two that I cannot recall. I remember saying I'm better, see my heart-rate has come down. Yet it had not, standing there I checked my watch to show them only to have it show at rate of 114 beats per minute, high above my resting rate. I sipped more water and we moved to a different space where I could find a brief respite.

We talked, we cried, we hugged and we found a way forward through my own anxiety and theirs. It was a painful goodbye as I loaded myself into my car, not wanting to leave this person who had been there for me. For the first time in my life when having a panic attack of this magnitude someone was there, giving me exactly what I needed. I did not need to pull myself together on my own, set a time limit on my phone to allow a timed breakdown, or any other the ways I manage these when they arise. Thankfully the times of panic and anxiety attacks are few, but I can recall so many of those and the feeling of desperation that courses through me, wishing for someone to give me simply a hug and hold me until I can breathe again.

Today was incredibly rough as anyone who suffers with anxiety knows the anxiety lingers, and panic attacks physically drain you. The anxiety ebbs and flows, with moments of lightening and moments that it crushes you. A friend called me on my drive and let me vent, a safe space to share the stressors of the past 12 hours and my feelings. There was no judgement, no commentary, a listening ear and holding of space. There was a text to my therapist who was able to squeeze me in last minute today for an hour where I just unloaded everything from the past 2 months.

Today it all hit, everything that has happened since I put in my resignation at my former job. There have been health scares, an ongoing custody dispute, a job in peril, a friend in and out of crisis, kids activities mounting and changing as the school year ends, and a nonprofit that I feel I am failing as I balance all mentioned and more. Yes, I am taking time for self-care. I am focusing on my nutrition and movement, running, lifting, and getting outside. There are simply moments when the mind and body can take no more and last night triggered a storm within me that unleashed this morning.

I am thankful for new understanding coworkers, a healing hug in a time that I needed it more than ever, and the 2 listening ears provided from a friend and my therapist. Tomorrow will be different, but today, today I am not ok.

Post-run moment trying to breathe

30 Days of Thanks: November 30, 2020

It's Monday, a full moon, and the end of the month. Tomorrow dawns the last month of 2020, and this post should be a beautiful summary of all of the gratitude that I have recorded over the past 30 days, yet it will not. I could certainly write all of that, but it would not ring true as that is not where my head and heart are at this moment.

Tonight, as I sit here hurting, I am thankful for the ability to love deeply, to be that vulnerable with my heart and myself. I sit tonight with tears in my eyes, sadness present, and fighting the instinct to shut it all down. For when you love openly and vulnerably you may hurt, and my heart wants to protect itself. It is yelling, screaming, pleading to close down, throw up the walls, hide away, and protect! protect! protect! Instead, I sit here letting those feeling wash over me, the tears flowing freely, dripping on my keyboard, my open pages of the letter I wrote but will not send. It simply hurts. It is old traumas coming to surface, it is new experiences intermingling with the old and a moment for cleansing and healing.

I am thankful for the ability to know that I can love that vulnerably. I am thankful for the previous experiences that allow me enough vision in this painful moment to recognize that the instinctual withdrawal is a protective mechanism and I have a choice. I can lean into the pain, or I can flee. You can read here that I chose the pain; fleeing does nothing expect create more trauma. With that I sit here wondering the path forward, yet knowing that in this moment I cannot see the path, nor could I safely choose a path. Choosing a path in this moment would be to grasp the thorny stem of the rose with a fist and squeeze, painful and a poor choice. I will trust that the next steps of the path are there, just hidden under the leaves.

Love, and loving openly, is a gift, and as it blooms so does the individual. I choose to bloom.

30 Days of Thanks: November 12, 2020

Bear with me on this post for the beginning is not going to sound like gratitude. I have been writing more recently with a focus on my anxiety and the blessings that have come it, and while all of that is true, it is still a force in my life. Anxiety is the one thing that I would change in a heartbeat, sure I would like to be stronger, leaner, prettier, but truly I would heal the anxiety over anything else. For it tries to steal the very essence of who you are with seductive lies rooted in your deepest fears and insecurities. Yes, you can be thankful for the revelation of those fears and insecurities, but there are ample moments where you would prefer to be either blissfully unaware or not have them. The amount of energy it takes to release it, process it and at times battle it is staggering, and I am tired.

I am tired of battling with low-level anxiety. I am tired of waking up out of sorts and being in near tears during my morning workout because the anxiety is rearing it's head and I'm also hungry. I am tired of managing working from home and the office and kids schooling at home and school. I am tired of friends coming into my life only to disappear. I am tired of trying to find the balance of my paid job, my coaching job, and my trail coordinator position, something has to give and the reality of what I want to remove and what's feasible are not in alignment right now.

I am tired of being told to be patient, yet it is the lesson I still need to practice the most. I want to find the gratitude in this, yet tonight it is not present in this element. The gratitude comes in the form of grace, the grace to be my authentic tired self in this moment. I honor the fact that I am tired, that my wants and needs are not being met in the ways that I would prefer them. I honor the fact that it's ok not to be ok right in this moment, and am affording myself that grace. For that ability alone to accept those truths and honor those feelings I am grateful.

In these moments I do not want to find a silver lining or "pollyanna" the situation. Yes, there are lessons to be learned and there is a purpose behind every action, but consistently focusing on that part alone does not afford me the opportunity to experience the event in the moment. Grief, anxiety, sadness, frustration, and fatigue are very real and, to me, should be experienced so that I can move forward. I will embrace these temporary visitors and then send them on their way. I know that truly all will be well, because all IS well, this moment is not permanent. Gratitude is fed by grace. 

Gratitude

I was asked earlier this week to identify how I want to be thanked, acknowledged, recognized. How would I best like gratitude expressed to me? I stumbled in my response, this wasn't the usual survey that you complete at work that has basic options such as do you want to be publicly recognized, no public recognition, would you like a specific candy treat, etc that I have completed before. This was a genuine question and concern to acknowledge me and my contributions in a way that would be most comfortable and address my needs. Again, I stumbled. Maybe you know right off the bat, but I certainly didn't and promised that I would think and reflect.

It's uncomfortable to sit and think about this. Why? It's not that I don't believe that I am not worthy of the praise, nor that I don't deserve it. It's partially that I am not used to that type of recognition. Those of you who were around in the early years of this blog, following the journey to the PhD there was very little praise, it was a lot of criticism, not always constructive either. Those years certainly left a mark on me, as well as my marriage. It is a different feeling to be acknowledged for being yourself. The contributions I am making are certainly worth being recognized and gratitude expressed, though what I am doing is such a core part of me that at times it seems silly to "thank me" for doing what comes naturally. Though, I know from past experience that if I am not recognized it can lead to frustration, anger, resentment, and a lot of hurt feelings and misery on my end. So, I have to sit with my discomfort and find what is going to be the most accepting to balance my need to be recognized and seen and not be placed on a pedestal.

Two things that are always important to me are words and actions. It is through these that I feel the most loved, appreciated and seen. When you examine gratitude it is a form of love, so it only makes sense to tie back to what makes you feel loved. I want to hear it out loud, see it written and know that it comes genuinely from your heart.  Private notes, letters, texts, emails are wonderful ways to express this to me, as well as some recognition on a public level. The publicity is less important, as the critical component is the genuineness of the words. In taking the time and effort to acknowledge me in these ways you are also performing an action. Words are critical and crucial to me; though actions are also important. Tying this need into an expression of gratitude and recognition is challenging. I think for these purposes it means follow through, the completion of the desired action. Action isn't the same as gifts. While I enjoy receiving flowers, I appreciate the gesture as much as I appreciate the flowers themselves. Action is taking your time to do something for me, whether that is cooking for me, teaching me a new skill, or even sending me a song, poem, or book I might enjoy.

Through all of this the themes that emerge are connection and genuineness. The expression of recognition should be genuine, personal and written both privately and publicly. Expanding on that gratitude can be expressed through actions that reflect our connection. These may appear to be simple to many, but there is such beauty in the simplicity. I am not one for complexities in areas that do not require. As a woman with a complex, intricately chaotic life, the simplicity of my desires are a reflection of my core self. The external chaos requires a counterbalance of simplicity and connection. I desire to be seen, acknowledged, and recognized for my core being.

A human connection

Did you know that nights and bedtime are the roughest?

It's facing night after night an empty room and an empty bed. You can typically find me stalling going to bed, staying up significantly later than I should be. I am texting a friend, sending messages or scrolling on Facebook or Instagram, just to get that human connection. There's no one here to reminisce about the day or just decompress. I am not saying that I am incapable of doing these things alone, but that I miss that human connection.

The point is that there are aspects of this journey that hit you everyday and while they are easier than at the beginning I have a daily reminder of the major difference in my life. There are nights that are certainly easier than others, but there is often no predicting what will happen when I turn out the light. A while ago I turned out the light and had a massive meltdown. I couldn't tell you what exactly set it off, but lots of tears later I was finally able to crash into sleep. I have moments in the evenings when I can just anticipate that my bedtime routine will be challenging and have learned to reach out to my friends. I am lucky enough that I have a few friends that are generally awake and willing to chat with me for practically hours on end.

This past Monday was shaping up to be one of those days. My anxiety was on the rise and I was dealing with emotional fallout from an encounter that morning. All day all I wanted was to be at home and be sad and process everything that was swirling within me. Sadly, single mom life called and there were what felt like a million errands to be run and a tight schedule to keep.

As the evening wore on I was exhausted and craving solitude, but around 9pm my phone rang. The number was one unknown to me, but based on the location appearing in the caller ID I had an idea who was calling, and I just couldn't pick up the phone. I was out of courage, exhausted and trying to wrap up my evening of chores and duties. The call went to voicemail and I felt guilt, big guilt about not answering. About 30 minutes later my phone rang again, same number, I gathered what remained of my courage and answered. Maybe you're wondering why I needed courage, but this was not an average phone call. I knew that this phone call had the potential to offer a life changing connection, and I was anxious. After a few moments of chatting my new friend and I were conversing like we had known each other for years and away fell my anxiety, fears, the stress of the day.  I am always in awe in the power of a human connection. That phone call was the reset that I needed to go to bed that night at peace.

At my core I believe in the power of human connections and healing nature of healthy connections. Not every human connection is a helpful one, and not all will heal, but when the magic of one appears you can't help but be changed. This specific connection has the additional magic of fueling my plans to a life less ordinary. Who knew that in an hour conversation with a person who was essentially a stranger at the beginning would create such magic and healing?

30 Days of Thanks: Day 4

Mondays are my day off. It's my chance to catch up on stuff while the kids are at school. Today I got to have brunch with a friend, which was a nice perk. It made me realize how lucky I am to:

1. have a weekday off every week
2. have friends willing to join me on my day off for a meal

I typically use my day offs for errands, doctor's appointments, grocery shopping, etc. Today was a special day since I dedicated some time to truly just relax and be me. It's something that I am working on more and more, finding that balance between the "must do" and "want to do". I'm certainly a happier person when I take those much needed breaks and slow down. It's some of the crazy life lessons I've learned over the past few years.

Which brings me to my thankfulness acknowledgement of the day. Today, I'm thankful and grateful for the safe space that my therapist provides and the counsel. She is an amazing individual and we all should have someone in our lives like that. I know I've written about her before, but today I just wanted to take the time to recognize the work she does. This woman has guided me from a high anxiety state where I was functioning, but not thriving barely surviving, into a life where I am living and loving and enjoying life. She's graced me with the tools I need, held space when I needed to meltdown. Coached me through the meltdowns and allowed me the space to recreate me. Even when sharing my most vulnerable moments and intimate secrets I knew I was safe.

I learned that my emotions matter, that I was important. That my trauma was real and was my reality. I learned how to heal from my trauma, over and over and over again. I learned coping skills for when my anxiety skyrockets and I want to stay in bed forever, go on a crazy long run, or escape to the forest. I learned to recognize the warning signs of my anxiety and tactics to prevent the spirals.

She did not heal me; I healed me. She provided the safe space, tools and guidance so I could make the decisions I needed to make, recognize my own self worth and heal and grow. To my amazing unnamed therapist: THANK YOU.

30 Days of Thanks: Day 3

Ya'll it's been a day. We had church this morning where our pastor addressed the recent suicide in our community this week. There were so many tears and the entire church was grieving, including me, and I didn't know this wonderful young girl. What a way to start Sunday.

Then my kids, my dear sweet kids, drove me up the ever loving wall this afternoon. I should explain. I have been having significant issues getting them to pickup after themselves. As I tell them I do not expect my/our house to look magazine perfect, but goodness I would like to be able to enter their rooms and really walk. Not step gingerly over clutter, trash and clothes. After almost 6 months of being on them to clean up this mama had enough. I told them my last weekend with them that we no longer were going to have "fun" mom weekends, we were going to clean, organize and purge until I was satisfied. So, on that last weekend with them, we started. They worked in their rooms, we emptied part of the attic and cleaned and purged. This weekend we did the same thing. It involves me starting a personal project on my own stuff, running over to help someone else, separating the boys, putting someone back on task, returning to my project, etc. Over and over and over again- ALL DAY LONG. It's dang exhausting, physically and emotionally. And then B, the 8 year old, says "hey mama" and I've been "hey mama"-ed about 10000x times today and I about lose it on her. I can't help but answer with a short, exasperated "WHAT?!" and it's "what am I supposed to do with ....." You know the thing I told her to do 5x already that she forgot because she was being willfully disobedient. Needless to say, it was a rough day here in this household.

It left me wondering what I was going to be thankful for tonight. I'm certainly not truly thankful/grateful for the "stuff" that we have. I am thankful that we have had generous friends and family that have gifted us with so much, that we are able now to pass along to others. But that's not the spirit of things that I want at this moment. I've been pondering it for the past few hours, and nothing has felt genuine until I realized what S, my oldest did today. This gal tackled organizing an area in the attic that has been neglected, reorganized stuff that her siblings had just placed randomly on shelves and then sorted through 2 boxes of miscellaneous craft supplies, birthday cards, old balloons, etc (stuff I have saved to scrapbook). She did it without complaint and joyously as times. She fielded my short, if you find any anniversary cards, etc please just put them in recycle comment without batting an eye.

Thus, on day 3, I'm thankful for my eldest's gift of organization and service today.

30 Days of Thanks: Day 1

I typically attempt to do the #30daysofthanks of Facebook, but invariably miss a few days. This year I opted to switch it up and post it here. This allows me the option to write more, reflect more and be more candid.

It's November 1st and we're all coming down off a sugar high from yesterday's trick or treat extravaganza. I'll be honest, I wanted nothing more than to stay in my warm bed, sleep, read a book, watch hiking videos on YouTube and drink warm beverages today. Bonus if I would get to share those things with someone special, but alas it's a Friday and work calls with an 8am meeting. That being said it was a productive, yet frustrating day at work when I realized I had lost all of my work on a project and had to start from scratch. On top of that I had promised it to the people today, so I was on a deadline to recreate a week's worth of work in under 8 hours. Thankfully, I found a few shortcuts and was able to put it out for them as promised.

This leads me to my first thankfulness post:

I am thankful for being able to work well under pressure.

It's saved me a number of times and drives me when I need it. I know that not everyone thrives under pressure, and there are certainly times when I do not, but today was not one of them. For that, I am grateful.