I mentioned in an earlier post that I have self-diagnosed myself with Seasonal Affective Disorder. I have been really please this season because I have worked really hard not to give in to the sadness and withdrawal that typically overtakes me in the dark winter months.
In fact, just two days ago, I was telling a friend "all you gotta do is keep busy and maintain your focus outside of yourself. THAT's the key."
Oh, how wrong I was.
See, I'm a crier. I am a firm believer in the healing properties of a good cry. Don't get me wrong, I'm not running around my office crying every time I can't have my way; didn't say I was a "cry baby", just a crier. I release my stress, anxiety, sadness, anger, frustration, joy, love, whatever emotion, you name it, I typically express it through my tears.
I can't remember the last time I cried. When we were going through the stress at the school, I was mad as hell, but no tears. When struggles came up in my love life, I threw tantrums and cajoled or ignored, but no tears. A co-worker or two have been gently cussed out, but no tears. My mother did her best to ruin our Christmas, I assertively told her to put satan behind her, but no tears.
Monday, I received a call that a close friend, an elderly gentleman in my church passed away Sunday. He wasn't blood family, but he was the sweetest, most genuine person I have met in a long time. I admired his dignity in coping with his illness, his faith in God. I admired the love and dedication he shared with his wife, who was perhaps 20 years his junior. My son also adored him. Anyway, he died at home Sunday afternoon, just the way he wanted.
My response? No tears.
As I type, I can think of multiple other stressors that have emerged over the past 4 or 5 months. Nothing major, but when they accumulate, and here's the key, WITHOUT release, eventually your mind and body will call HALT!
Monday night, mine did.
I woke up about midnite in the middle of an anxiety attack. For those of you who have not experienced this, it was the most frightening thing ever. I've never had one before. I have worked with people who have them, I have read and studied them, but never had the unique *ahem* pleasure myself.
I thought I was having a heart attack. I couldn't catch my breath, I felt a weight pressing down on my chest, my hands were trembling. At one point my left arm was hurting and, well, I started crying then, because I was convinced that I was about to die and that my son would have to find me in the morning and I knew he would not know what to do or how to cope.
I was a mess.
Anyway, at some point I realized that this was anxiety; tried meditation and deep breathing. All the stuff I teach my clients to do in this case. None of it worked. I finally fell into a shallow sleep after taking a Benadryl and a Mojito. (I hope none of my clients ever read this).
I spoke to one of my colleagues when I got to work Tuesday morning and was prescribed (temporarily) something to take the edge off and then was ordered home to do nothing but cry.
I took the meds, but unfortunately, didn't go home or take the time for the cry. Which is how I got myself into this mess to begin with. But I didn't want to scare my son with the kind of crying I needed to do. But he will be away from home for awhile today, so I'll start my *therapy* then.
The funeral is Saturday and we'll go and say our goodbyes. And then I think we're going to take a road trip. The beach may be calling us this weekend. Keep us in your prayers.
4 weeks ago