January 3rd has always stuck with me, a date I despise. "The" day over ten years ago that I called home and heard the words fall from my mouth before I could stop them..."Mom, I'm dying. I can't see tomorrow." It's hard to let go of days like that. I have often referred to it as the worst day of my life, we can call it my bottom. Curious that I found myself again on the phone to my parents, January 3rd, they could hear it in my voice, they know when I'm not well.
I had made it to work that day, on edge all day. Trying my hardest to concentrate, fighting off panic attacks. My ears ringing. Dizzy. My heart racing and skipping. By the time the day was done I had accepted what this was. I contemplated calling for a ride home. My familiar fear of getting behind the wheel, the potential of anxiety and the 401 an ongoing nemesis on bad days. I got to my couch a lifetime later and settled into my chaos. The desire to run for help is so real, so strong, feeling like I'm supposed to be checking into an ER but knowing exactly what I'd be told and how to handle it.
There is a part of this that becomes entirely patronizing when you "know". I do "know". I know that if I stop taking care of myself, it all comes back, and it did!
Calling my parents makes it real. I am grateful I know to put things into perspective for myself in moments like these. To simply stop and recognize that I have the ability to regain "control". I heard my parents with gentle force, reminding me I hadn't been exercising, going through my lack of healthy eating as I was home, reviewing times in my life I had been "here" before. We spoke for half an hour, their concern as real as it was the first time I called with these issues, but their ability to cope and understand has grown with mine. An outlet so real to my recovery.
I hung up the phone and started with step one. I felt dizzy, couldn't stay focused, poor eating, low blood pressure, no exercise...pulling myself off the couch I headed out to Shoppers to check for the obvious, low blood pressure. The thing about my anxiety, my panic, when I start to "identify" the causes it alleviates. I made myself some chicken noodle soup and started recreated the "plan" I knew I needed to engage in.
Feeling better happens almost instantly when I remember I can "choose" proactivity, and I did, I do...
To Be Continued...
5.1.12
Back From Falling: Part 2
To say life has changed since I started sharing my story would be an understatement. For the most part, certainly for the better. However it would be a lie to say on occasion I don't find myself overwhelmed, not with any of the events or engagements but more so with those passing moments that remind me I am now completely exposed. That safe little world I have learned to "cope" in is no longer. People look to see how I am, if I'm having a bad day, whereas before they didn't know to. Very few people had any idea of what I was going through, so hiding behind the excuse of being too busy was simple for me. I could suffer in silence.
I went home over the Holidays, back to Kincardine with my family, and seemingly felt I had earned the "right" to just shut down. I just wanted to lay around, watch movies, indulge in great food and excessive baked goods, and just take time "off". This is a fair desire and one we all feel. However it's not possible in my world, I cannot embrace complacency and "shut down" so to speak.
By the middle of last week I started feeling the familiar heart palpitations, the troubles breathing normally, dizziness, the overall chaos that defines my anxiety and panic. I ignored it, moving from bed to couch and back to bed. Justifying it as "real time off". By the time I was to drive back to Toronto, having not left my parents house in a week, I was faced with a familiar "fear". I questioned my ability to get in my car alone and venture back to the city. I brushed it aside, packed up and came back.
The drive wasn't as horrible as it used to be (when I first "got sick"), I was able to get through it uncomfortably, although I found myself drained and emotional upon getting home and landed on the couch at my house the second I arrived. That was December 30th. I spent the next couple of days aware that I was feeling "off". Not doing much more than laying around and waiting for it to pass. The very familiar "not wanting to leave my house" and fearing something was going to happen was surfacing. New Years Eve was slept away, New Years Day dedicated to the TV. By the 2nd I realized what was happening, the anxiety and panic were starting to dictate my thoughts. I felt drained and on edge. Then it becomes a battle within, how could I let myself get to this? I know better! Why wasn't I doing the simple things, working out, eating right, taking my meds on time, vitamins, supplements, meditation, yoga, talking to somebody? That familiar feeling of failure and embarrassment is hard to keep at bay in moments like these.
By the 3rd I had accepted it was time to act. I picked up the phone and called my parents. They have seen me here. They know this well. After all these years the reassurance of knowing I have been here before, and far worse off, is still a huge motivator. I am not dying. I am not beyond coping or "out of recovery". There is a simple explanation, I stopped taking care of myself and needed to change that, quickly.
To Be Continued...
I went home over the Holidays, back to Kincardine with my family, and seemingly felt I had earned the "right" to just shut down. I just wanted to lay around, watch movies, indulge in great food and excessive baked goods, and just take time "off". This is a fair desire and one we all feel. However it's not possible in my world, I cannot embrace complacency and "shut down" so to speak.
By the middle of last week I started feeling the familiar heart palpitations, the troubles breathing normally, dizziness, the overall chaos that defines my anxiety and panic. I ignored it, moving from bed to couch and back to bed. Justifying it as "real time off". By the time I was to drive back to Toronto, having not left my parents house in a week, I was faced with a familiar "fear". I questioned my ability to get in my car alone and venture back to the city. I brushed it aside, packed up and came back.
The drive wasn't as horrible as it used to be (when I first "got sick"), I was able to get through it uncomfortably, although I found myself drained and emotional upon getting home and landed on the couch at my house the second I arrived. That was December 30th. I spent the next couple of days aware that I was feeling "off". Not doing much more than laying around and waiting for it to pass. The very familiar "not wanting to leave my house" and fearing something was going to happen was surfacing. New Years Eve was slept away, New Years Day dedicated to the TV. By the 2nd I realized what was happening, the anxiety and panic were starting to dictate my thoughts. I felt drained and on edge. Then it becomes a battle within, how could I let myself get to this? I know better! Why wasn't I doing the simple things, working out, eating right, taking my meds on time, vitamins, supplements, meditation, yoga, talking to somebody? That familiar feeling of failure and embarrassment is hard to keep at bay in moments like these.
By the 3rd I had accepted it was time to act. I picked up the phone and called my parents. They have seen me here. They know this well. After all these years the reassurance of knowing I have been here before, and far worse off, is still a huge motivator. I am not dying. I am not beyond coping or "out of recovery". There is a simple explanation, I stopped taking care of myself and needed to change that, quickly.
To Be Continued...
Back From Falling: Part 1
I often wondered what effect stepping out with my story would have on me. It was a simple question posed to me the last time I spoke, and one that caught me off guard.
"How are you handling being so open about what you've been through? Has it made things easier or harder?"
It wasn't a question I prepared an answer for and found myself standing in front of a room full of strangers feeling even more exposed, if that's possible. Yet, it was a question I needed to hear. The answer is a long one, with many factors and an ultimately positive tone. However it did force me to consider some curious internal responses. One being this, I have found I seem to posses the belief that I shouldn't be open about not being 100% all of the time. I feel somehow responsible to only be healthy, as though I have created an expectation of myself to only be "good". Free of anxiety, panic, fear, depression. That somehow I feel fraudulent speaking of my recovery and coping when I am having a bad day, a bad week. I am grateful I was forced to think on this and it's what brings me to you today.
I crashed. Again. I did exactly what everything I have learned has dictated I cannot do. I went home for the Holidays and complacently landed on my couch, not working out, not eating properly, not taking the time to focus on the feelings that ultimately become "too much" for me if I let them go unnoticed. Somehow this hurts me so much more at this point, I know better. I know what I need to do to stay healthy. So here I am again, left fighting back! And I am.
I had planned on going back home, sharing a holiday journal through my blog and instead I find myself here sharing a much more intimate journal, coming back from falling.
So in hopes my transparency provides more help then my "embarrassment" for "letting this happen" again. In hopes that my exposure is more relevant then the "perception" that I am always good. Here it is. I still suffer from Anxiety, Panic, Depression, and I have to take care of myself to manage that. I have failed to do that and so my next few entries will serve to remind me of exactly that.
And more so, let me share with you what it takes for me to fight back from darkness...
"How are you handling being so open about what you've been through? Has it made things easier or harder?"
It wasn't a question I prepared an answer for and found myself standing in front of a room full of strangers feeling even more exposed, if that's possible. Yet, it was a question I needed to hear. The answer is a long one, with many factors and an ultimately positive tone. However it did force me to consider some curious internal responses. One being this, I have found I seem to posses the belief that I shouldn't be open about not being 100% all of the time. I feel somehow responsible to only be healthy, as though I have created an expectation of myself to only be "good". Free of anxiety, panic, fear, depression. That somehow I feel fraudulent speaking of my recovery and coping when I am having a bad day, a bad week. I am grateful I was forced to think on this and it's what brings me to you today.
I crashed. Again. I did exactly what everything I have learned has dictated I cannot do. I went home for the Holidays and complacently landed on my couch, not working out, not eating properly, not taking the time to focus on the feelings that ultimately become "too much" for me if I let them go unnoticed. Somehow this hurts me so much more at this point, I know better. I know what I need to do to stay healthy. So here I am again, left fighting back! And I am.
I had planned on going back home, sharing a holiday journal through my blog and instead I find myself here sharing a much more intimate journal, coming back from falling.
So in hopes my transparency provides more help then my "embarrassment" for "letting this happen" again. In hopes that my exposure is more relevant then the "perception" that I am always good. Here it is. I still suffer from Anxiety, Panic, Depression, and I have to take care of myself to manage that. I have failed to do that and so my next few entries will serve to remind me of exactly that.
And more so, let me share with you what it takes for me to fight back from darkness...
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