my experience with anxiety, PTSD, and managing symptoms

i have struggled with anxiety for a long time.  in high school and college, it manifested itself through an eating disorder.  i remember my senior year of college, i would literally spend hours and hours filling out every online application available.  not even taking the time to fill them properly, or check if the job was a good fit, but rather just throw my name out into the universe as if a blanketed approach of my name would guarantee safety and security.

i was in therapy my senior year, i got a roommate to help manage my availability of purging, and eventually i found a job.  anxiety continued to be beneath the surface for me.  many times while we were married, jim would comment on how miserable i could make an entire weekend just by having an issue and not being willing to confront it due to my fear.

throughout the three years of being a stay at home mom, i started learning about alternative methods to handle it, meditation, running, essential oils.  my life seemed to be going pretty well, and i finally let go of the fear of waiting for the other shoe to fall. 

after they died, i most definitely slipped into a state of PTSD.  the sounds of sirens or people screaming would undo me.  i remember Addy would have these screaming fits and i would just be unable to cope.  several times, we would be in the car, she'd be screaming, and i would just count down the minutes till we made it home.  i would run inside the house and start screaming and punching pillows until exhausted and i felt i could safely and effectively parent them again. 

i would regularly have anxiety attacks, crying to the point of hyperventilation, feelings of absolute hopelessness.  but eventually, they subsided... it took probably close to a year for regular ones to stop popping up.  a lot of it, i credit to the stability and calming presence Christian brought to my life, i also stopped drinking for thirty days last may which seemed to help and i continued with self-discovery, internal healing (chiropractic and supplements) and braintap (which i can't recommend enough). 

typing all that to say, when i got pregnant.  i knew that i would eventually have a breakdown.  i didn't know when, i thought maybe it would wait until after i brought the baby home, but i've been waiting, watching the clock tick by on the weeks...  12 weeks and no panic attack, 20 weeks and no panic attack.

this past week, i've been off, i've felt it.  this wave that was building and building.  i've felt like crying most days for no reason, i've been panicky and short.  thursday on my way to work, i drove past a house that was in a crisis.  ambulances, fire trucks, and police cars parked on the lawn - lights blazing, officers in heavy black boots and serious faces stomping in and out of the house.  it almost happened then, but i managed it, texted christian, it took a couple hours but it subsided.

last night i was laying in bed, kids, dogs, and christian all sleeping soundly.  and the reel started playing.  the reel of reality of watching my daughter die, of going to a fire station with her broken body, of never bringing her home, of my husband dying.  and it happened, this overwhelming feeling of "i can't i can't i can't" i can't bring a baby home, what if something happens, what if i make a mistake, what if i can't be a good mom, christian would hate me, our relationship would fall apart.  i can't i can't i can't. 

the fear is very real.  the panic is very real.  a lot of people have wondered, how i'm managing this pregnancy, how i am holding up mentally.  it is no small feat to lose so much and then go through similar motions.  there are so many feelings of not deserving the things i have because i lost so much, an undue feeling of blame and despair. 

but i made it through.  i let the wave crash as terrible as it was.  i eventually slept and eventually woke up today.  i don't know if i will ever not have anxiety as part of my life.  but i manage it now, i see it clearly for what it is when it comes.  it is not a friend, a coping mechanism, or a managing tool.  it is a crippling tool of defeat and slavery. 

it's ok to be honest about having anxiety or PTSD, it's ok to struggle, to wake up in a cold sweat with racing thoughts.  but it's also ok to get better, to seek help when you need it, to be honest about what you need, want or desire in those moments. 

vulnerability and being a writer.

i think most writers are probably introverts.  there is a certain level of self-awareness that must be present in order to articulate stories, especially if they are your own.  it is what makes writing so difficult for me at times.  i am, at my core, an introvert, yet i hit publish on some of the deepest, raw feelings.  in the beginning, it was a compulsion, i was in so much pain, pain that i could not have born alone.  so i shared, i hit publish.  now it has and continues to change, my pain is becoming more of mine to bear alone, my grief is becoming more and more inward.

once when we were dating, i wrote this essay, i guess you could call it, on jim and i.  just a random piece of my thoughts expressed in a certain fiction way.  i never showed it to him, i was too embarrassed, too afraid of what he would think.  i found it after he died and i was looking through my old posts, most of which are and continue to be drafts (thoughts for my head and not meant to be shared).  i showed it to alayne, she asked me if he ever saw it, and i shook my head no.  i was so sad in that moment, that i had let this avenue of intimacy go unexpressed.

and so i walk this line, of processing privately and yet feeling a compulsion to share my story, in hopes that some can say, "i identify."  it is an unraveling that i feel, will most likely, take a lifetime.  my friend shelby wrote a post which sparked this train of thought for me (found here).  there is a certain level of bravery and faith and trust that is exercised when we allow ourselves to be vulnerable.

i've been lucky so far.  i've only had one person bring up what i've written as an argument against me.  but this stuff is done every day, especially for writers, poets, musicians.  rolling stone rates albums like there can be a star level on people's souls.  i remember reading their review of sufjan stevens Carrie and Lowell, they gave it four out of five stars.  that album is one of the most personal and raw things i have ever listened to.  in my prior 28 years of existence, i had never experienced anything come close to touching on the grief of losing my mom or the abuse i experienced at a young age and that album touched it.  yet we have created this society where people's vulnerabilities are held up, judged, and rated.  it is an interesting and slightly disturbing concept to me.

there is a certain level of power in privacy.  do you remember when a million little pieces came out?  and everyone (Oprah) was in shock and awe over this guys honesty and vulnerability and then it came out that, you know, it wasn't all true?  i get it, i get creating a role for yourself and allowing that character to take on the vulnerability, to flesh things out as a fake until you get a handle on it.  i, at times, find myself jealous of actors.  who, when confronted with a reality they don't like, get to escape into another one.

yet, that does not seem to be my path in life.  i have this compulsion to keep pulling back my layers, to write only what i find is truth at that time, to not allow myself to escape into the fantasy but to keep hammering home reality over and over and over again.  to share my story again and again and again.  to shout about the pain and eventually the joy, in the hope that others will hear my shouts and know, they are not alone.

marriage is such an interesting facet of our lives.  the intertwining, the compromise, the sometimes very real struggle, and the love.  i was sitting in the social security office today staring at a document that said "the marriage ended with death on April 28, 2016." and i realized... i'm not married anymore.

i had thought about it, obviously at different points throughout these couple weeks.  the brain can be extremely pragmatic even under the most trying of circumstances.  the day Jim died, i remember bringing up life insurance, canceling his cell phone, etc.  it's a survival tool... your brain will lose itself in grief if there is no logic to the unraveling.  

but to see it, legally defined, was so very very striking.  it will be one of those moments that will always be with me in the after haze of these weeks.

the hospital i delivered elly at required a blood work up and "light" physical pre-testing before my c-section.  my delivery was scheduled for monday so that friday i went in at 7 am for testing.  i remember being so scared to drive myself to the hospital.  isn't that silly? the traffic there is busy and i always get nervous driving new places.  i wanted jim to wake the kids up and drive up there with me and wait in the car.... with the two kids.  i was so worked up about this that when i made it there on time and safely, i was so oddly proud of myself.

in a lot of ways, my marriage allowed me to hide.  when there is someone to pick up the slack, there can be a lot we say "no" to because we let the other person do it.  i was especially good at this given just the number of fears i faced in my life.  essentially at the core, not being enough.  now i am suddenly thrust in as the ringleader.  there isn't much i can say "no" to if i want to provide the best for my children and myself.

i have survived some of the cruelest of circumstances and have seen more loss at 28 than some see at 80.  i deserve to dig in deep to the goodness of life, the joys to be had, if for no other reason than i have seen the other side.  there is nothing good to be had by diminishing our own joy, peace, or personal presence.  there is nothing good for my children if i hide and waste away my own being.  

and so one moment at a time, i am rocking it out as a single mom.  

this experience has led me to no longer being able to hide behind fear.  when you've lived your worst nightmare most of your other fears in life seem to pale in comparison.  if i can survive this i can do anything and so the phrase, what would you do if you knew you could not fail comes to mind.

i cannot fail, i have already survived.

the path.

have you read the children's book "we're going on a bear hunt" it's an old one, this family encounters all these obstacles on a bear hunt and each time they say "we can't go over it, we can't go under it, oh no we've got to go through it"

that's where i'm at.  there is a path laid out in front of me, a path to healing, to being made whole, but it's going to hurt like hell to get there.  i can literally see the pain waiting for me and i'm scared.

scared of what it's going to be like when i clean out his drawers
scared of what it's going to be like when i give his stuff away
scared of what it's going to be like when i find a job
put my kids in daycare
go to bed alone every night and wake up alone every day
being a single mom



the beginning of grief is akin to what i imagine drowning to feel like.  in between numb these waves of intensity hit you with the force of a storm.  it's physically painful, when elly died i could literally feel my heart hurting.  your entire physical system goes into shock.  when jim died, i thought - i can't believe i have to live through this again.

not quite two weeks out and my mind is already insulating itself, the memory of that Thursday has already faded because your body had to forget the pain.  but i can look out over the next year and know more waves will come, more body racking sobs into my pillow will come, the feeling of being swallowed whole will be there and i'll have to battle it.

it honestly makes me a little fearful.  sometimes the worst part of pain is knowing it's coming for you.
i don't know why my life is the way it is.  i'm not sure why i got this hand... why i've known so much loss and pain and tragedy.  but i rest in the fact that this is my phoenix moment.  something beautiful will rise from these ashes.

in the meantime though... i ache for my husband and my daughter.  jim and my ellybean.

loss.

most of my life feels like a nightmare right now.  i wake up and live a day filled with loss and then sleep a night filled with nightmares.

elly would have been two months old yesterday.  i thought about the monthly pictures i was going to do with her- taken with her bunny lovey and wept.  i thought about how she won't get a first birthday party, or ever get to run or walk, won't say momma, won't wave out the window while her sister and brother go to school...  and then i thought about how i could have born all of the weight of losing my child if only my husband would have stayed.

that morning when he walked out, we didn't touch each other.  i was preoccupied with getting the kids breakfast and assumed he was pulling in the trash cans.  i don't know why things didn't go differently- why i didn't say something or pull him in for a hug or why i didn't hear the car door slam.  the why's in this situation could swallow me, very easily actually.

i keep telling myself dawn will come, that my family will rise from this- but honestly at this point i have a hard time believing that i still have a family.  my counterpart, my constant is gone, ripped from my life in the cruelest way imaginable.  the thing i keep thinking is why us, i mean we were so in love.  so many people these days are in loveless or unhappy marriages.  that wasn't us.  we were in bliss, so content to just be- just be together.  i would have never ever left his side, not even for a second.  we never strayed from each other in the five years we were married.

there isn't a second that goes by that i don't feel his void in my life and catching the smiles of my kids as they run around and play rips the wound further... the only thought in my head "he should be here for this, he should be here for this"

it's hard to be this broken.