Last week was one of those weeks where there was just too much. It’s been a while since I had a panic attack. I had 2 last week. I guess maybe I needed a reminder that there is no such thing as an instant fix for one’s issues that are so deeply rooted. I had gotten pretty confident that I had finally grown up emotionally, and then I talked to my mom, and she largely couldn’t talk back. She would try, but then get frustrated when she couldn’t say what she was thinking and say, “I’m just crazy, crazy, crazy!” I wanted to argue and yell, “NO, YOU’RE NOT CRAZY!” But I know the futility of arguing with someone who has lost the ability to reason and retain. So I would just say, “You know, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” And it is. It just doesn’t feel like it.
I had a uterine ultrasound the next day. I made light of it because I really wasn’t overly concerned. In fact, I was hoping the results would show the need for a hysterectomy. Turned out to be 2 benign ovarian cycts. And must be on the left because I don’t think he ever found my right ovary. I thought at the time that he couldn’t see it because the wand was puncturing a lung and my ovaries aren’t that high. Not that I exaggerate. But all joking aside, as I was laying there I felt the beginning of the first panic attack. I got home to find no one there, and in a few minutes the rest of the family returned from a trip to Lowes picking up a new dishwasher. James kept asking me questions as he was swapping them out about what we did when we installed the original. “I don’t know. All I remember is we fought.” He kept asking and I kept giving that same answer because even though the circumstances were completely different, I was freaking out inside over the memory. Finally he said, “This isn’t like last time, and I’m not going to yell at you.” I responded, “I know. You’re sober and I’m sober. But I never dealt with that event.” I finally managed to calm down enough to switch out the wiring which, ironically, was the thing that turned the original install into such a huge fight. And everything went so smoothly. It was amazing. Yet, I still showed up to a meeting with my sponsor later in a panic attack. And thank goodness we were meeting that night!
But then the next day, I got double-teamed at work and told to grow a spine. I turned right back into an emotional 5 year old and shut down. Another thing happened the next day at work that triggered another panic attack on the way home. I remember thinking then, “I’ll wake up with a migraine tomorrow.” I did get to meet the Fonz that night which was just too cool. It would have been cooler if he’d held my hand like he did Petra. Just sayin’. And sure enough, I woke up with a migraine.
I had an appointment Saturday morning that I wasn’t going to let a migraine stop. It was something I didn’t want to do, but I could come up with no good reason not to do it, and God didn’t close that door. We had agreed on 45 min. I thought that would be too long, but we talked for like 3 hours. I don’t think I have ever felt that comfortable being that open and sharing with someone I barely knew. We both agreed that it was a God thing. To top it off, though I hadn’t yet taken anything for my migraine because I didn’t want to be half stoned out while there, there was no pain that whole time. I had trouble with speaking words, but that’s not unusual. After I left though? My head nearly exploded on me. Especially when I stopped at Food Lion. Another God thing.
And yesterday morning, I stood in the shower and broke down. I had that huge ugly cry that I needed last week after talking to my mom. I wondered at the time even as the sobs wracked through my body why I have such a hard time surrendering to grief and sorrow to this day. Why can’t I let go and be vulnerable around other people and especially my close friends and family? I mean, I know why. But why do I hang onto it after it had long since stopped being useful? I know the answer to that too. It’s frustrating.