Delayed Reaction

I had three kids in three years.

No one does that.

I also moved to a village in bush Alaska,

bake my own bread, roll my own tortillas,

and homeschool our two kindergartners.

Even less people do that.

I'm going somewhere with this.

Stick around...

***

I believe the insanity of our summer resulted in my early fall meltdown.

I had to hold it all together and once we finally came back here, I couldn't maintain it any longer.

Looking back I think my anxiety came for multiple reasons.  Being back in a city for the summer had its perks, but I was also completely overwhelmed by traffic, the radio, people everywhere, and the constant feel that I needed to be in a hurry.  Then came my wisdom tooth extraction, for which I was put under, and I began to really fear dying.  Like wrote-the-kids-goodbye-letters-the-morning-before-surgery scared.  And my recovery from that was awful. Slow and painful.  Then two weeks later I had to get myself off the vicodin (which I did cold turkey) and then suffered two more weeks from vicodin withdrawal. It was during this time my anxiety blossomed.  

Fast forward to August in Alaska, and I had a pretty constant fear that my body was going to let me down.  I was terrified of any and all symptoms that appeared. Headache? Tumor.  Stomach ache? C. diff.  Back ache? Kidney infection.

Then some depression snuck in alongside the anxiety (mainly fear of death and the unknowns of the future) and together those two decided to hang out with my vitamin D deficiency and together the three were able to make me disgustingly miserable.

***

Does that ever happen to you? Someone tells you something and it doesn't hit you until later?  Or you go through something (a procedure, a scary moment, a stressful period) and it isn't until after it's over that you really feel the depth of what you experienced?

Now that I am feeling better (and I am!) I can look back at this fall and see that I did the best I could with what I was facing.  I am so grateful that my depression lifted, that my anxiety lessened (I haven't had to take my anti-anxiety medication in over a month!) and that I'm on my way to appropriate Vitamin D levels. (I only have three weeks of treatment left!)

I vacillate between thinking this would have happened no matter what (because of my worried predisposition and a family history of mental health issues), and thinking that maybe having three sons in three years and a husband working full time + working on a masters degree in an isolated village in the middle of nowhere made this happen.  At this point I've decided it doesn't matter.  It is what it is. I suffered. I persevered.  I triumphed.

Now the important thing is to keep it from happening again.  

That's where Prozac, therapy,

and a million other little things I do to keep my sanity come in.  

• Getting enough sleep
• Maintaining a consistent routine
• Journaling
• Time with friends
• Praying
• Keeping a Gratitude Journal
• Working out
• Reading for pleasure
• Playing music

I hope that as I work to stay in the moment, being present, I will be less likely to walk away from an experience not having actually experienced it.

I "graduated" from therapy this week.  It feels amazing. I know what shapes the anxiety takes. I can see it coming, and I know what steps to take to get it under control.  It still feels scary sometimes.  Overwhelming.  But for the most part, I know it will never be as bad as it was. And that brings great peace.

I believe, finally, and maybe for the first time, that I can have a panic-free future.  It will require some vigilance on my part, but every effort is worth it.

***

I dedicate this post to all the anxiety sufferers out there.

Know that you are not alone,

that the only way out is through,

and that with time, you can be well.