Buckle up folks, it’s going to be a bumpy ride

Looking back over the last two years, I can say that each day, with it’s multitude of emotions, can easily be compared to all the components of riding a roller coaster.

When we received Brandon’s diagnosis, it was like we had stepped through the initial entryway to wait in line. Each time we would stop and wait or make a turn, it was an MRI, and another MRI, or a doctor’s appointment, or an emergency room visit, OR ANOTHER MRI.

Then once you make it to the platform, the adrenaline and nerves kick in, which would have been February 19th for me. The 1am phone call I had to make to 911 because he couldn’t keep any food or meds down and he was in so much constant pain. He had just been discharged from the hospital two days prior. I was awake for 32 hours that day.

Later that day, after getting a four hour nap, I was told that it was the beginning….of the end.

The beginning where the coaster starts to make it’s initial climb, ya know, the BIG one,…it usually takes FOREVER. The anxiety increases with every click of the mechanisms underneath you, things you cannot control, wishing you could make it stop just for a minute to regulate your breathing. But you have no control. It keeps going.

The top is in view. You’re terrified because you have no idea what the other side is like.

What felt like forever going up that hill, was 13 hours straight sitting next to him holding his hand the entire time, making the hardest, unselfish decisions of my life. I hated it.

You start to roll over the peak of this structure slowly.

Make it stop. STOP! I’m not ready! OH MY GOD!

He’s gone.

You gasp. You plummet.

And so begins the biggest, greatest, craziest, emotions of your entire life, ALL AT ONCE.

There’s such a rush but you can’t think at this moment. You’re just trying to figure out where to focus because your body isn’t cooperating with you. Then the anxiety subsides for a moment and you feel nothing. Just nothing. You start to concentrate on the next direction you’re heading towards.

Because you don’t have a choice.

Once you get closer to making it to the bottom of the hill, even though it’s ready to tackle the next twist or turn, which could be the next success you have, the next bad day, the next challenge you face, there is a sense of closure and pause where you can breathe again.

I wasn’t feeling very inspired this week for the blog, I was managing some intense anxiety on some issues happening in my life.

And then, it came to me (quite literally). Anxiety.

We all have it. Some more than others, and that’s okay. You’re not broken. You are human.

What is anxiety? The feeling of fear, dread or uneasiness that can be a reaction to stress. They can be thoughts or beliefs that are hard to control. For me, my anxiety usually comes and goes, stays pretty low key and I can manage it on my own. I strive to handle any stressful situation with grace.

I honestly haven’t felt a huge rush of anxiety in a long time, even through Brandon’s death and funeral. If you ask anyone at the funeral, I was smiling and laughing pretty much all day. I call it, going into ‘host mode’ where I’m cheerful, polite and my natural caregiving comes out. Might have been a coping mechanism or trauma response, I don’t know. All I know is that I got through those two fucking days with grace, in heels, and I’m so proud of myself.

So I started listening to a podcast this week that was new to me, “The Sabrina Zohar Show”. She is an entrepreneur and coach I found on Instagram who specializes in anxiety, dating and doing the work to heal. It really opened my eyes and made me realize that I have childhood trauma that still resides in me. This trauma changes my personality, my thought process and my response to others. Even after so many years later, it affects me so quickly, I honestly don’t even know it’s happening until it’s too late and I feel like a failure or I’m just not the true me. I need to step back, take a second and respond as an adult. Not react as the inner child that is trying to look for attention and constant validation from their narcissistic parent.

MIND WAS BLOWN.

I also discovered but not surprised, that I have an anxious attachment style. Greeeeeaaaatttt,…unenthusiastically. This epiphany put such a guilty weight on my shoulders where I almost had an anxiety attack at work. I was very emotional internally. Guilt and failure was evident in my face. I started some deep breaths and closed my eyes until my thoughts and nerves settled for the most part to get through the rest of the day.

Here is what I have learned in four days and will continue to work on:

Not everything needs an immediate response. Not everyone owes you an answer.

Sit in your discomfort. Stop blaming other people-Sense and own your shit.

Give space. Respect boundaries. Get comfy with being alone.

Thoughts are NOT facts (this is a hard one for me, as a writer and hopeless romantic).

No one is going to do the work for you.

You need to realize that you will be okay.

I will be okay.

As I’ve written before in my last post, I am currently working with a Grief/Widow Coach, who is great, I really enjoy talking to her. She gets it.

BUT

I now need more. I reached out to one of my closest friends, a clinical psychologist, and she went into her “project mode” and sent me a list of in-network therapists that specialize in what I am looking for and needing. She is the best human being. I am hoping to find someone that can guide me in the right direction and give me the tools needed to move forward.

Since March, I’ve had many uphill successes, and some downhill challenges, but I’ve never given up. Each situation I’ve encountered, the hills and valleys, provide me momentum to keep going where I can make improvements and have a better understanding of my anxiety.

My anxiety recently got the best of me and it altered a relationship with someone I care about. There was a obvious boundary set, I did not recognize it and I pushed my limits. As someone who has put boundaries in place with my own narcissistic mother and other toxic individuals in my life, I should have known better and for that, I truly apologize for what I did.

After this week, my mental health has been better, but it needs improvement. Two of my long distance best friends have called me and our conversations have been beautiful and fulfilling, even between the tears and laughter.

The notes I have taken (what I have learned listed above) will be read each day and will be some of the tools needed to flourish and move forward.

I can’t pour from an empty cup, so I need to fill mine first. So I will ride this bumpy coaster as long as I need to, until I make it back to my healthy, happy, well managed, mental health station.