Panic attack

 I’m trying to document real time so I can remember my symptoms. Facial and hand numbness, difficult to get a full deep breath, tremors, panic. I just took .5 of the last Ativan that I have left. 

I hope I’m not having a stroke. 

I’m hesitant to go to the ER because it’s like basically I KNOW it’s anxiety, but I hate this. It feels like such a setback in an otherwise “right track” progression. 

I am starting to feel “normal” - interested in nature, my children, etc. As sad as that is, it’s progress and I was so happy. 

Nathan thinks it’s because I had 2 cups of coffee on an empty stomach. This is probably true. 

But if I am telling myself these things and I do truly believe them, then why is my body reacting physically like it is. Absolute panic. It’s awful. 

How can I function like this?

All we did was go to Hobby Lobby and I had a breakdown. Like immediately had to leave. 

The kids were amazing, Nathan was good, it’s a beautiful day… who knows. 

Prayers needed. 

Antidepressants

 It’s been 2 weeks since my increase in Zoloft and I’m feeling more like myself. I’m not nearly where I was, but it’ll take time. 

I’m still praying and asking God what I am supposed to do. I know it’s such a broad question. But He knows!

I feel kind of lost. I don’t know what I want to do as a nurse. Or do I even want to be a nurse? I do… I think. I truly enjoy that feeling of making someone’s day. 

I’m really interested in psychology, more like therapy. I’d love to get involved in that somehow. I feel like I can be really therapeutic when I’m in my element! Haha. 

I’m just going to keep praying and asking for guidance.

Tension Headaches

 … I’m awake again in the middle of the night, after only going to bed 3 hours ago. I’m a mess.

I’m trying to fast again. It’s difficult to start when I’ve been eating like trash to cope with my issues. I’m ready to not eat when I’m emotionally needing something subconsciously.

I’m getting closer to the idea of going back to work. We will see. 

My head is killing me. Tension headaches. If I could NOT clench my teeth every 5 seconds that would be great. 

Anyway, I don’t have much to say. My sleep schedule is thrown so I’m out of touch with a lot. 

36

I am 36.

I spent my 36th birthday coming back from Jekyll Island from a wedding weekend. Nathan’s cousin got married at a 1 million dollar swanky event, so we had to go! After much work and bribing, we got Shaun and Bonnie to watch the boys for the weekend so we could enjoy it!

I can say that I did truly enjoy myself. I wasn’t comparing myself to other women, I got to dance with my husband, meet a ton of his family, eat good food, stay at a beachfront hotel, and walked along the beach one morning. It was a packed weekend because of all the wedding festivities and I’m exhausted but it was so fun.

This Thursday will be 2 weeks since increasing my meds and I think they’re working. I haven’t returned to work yet. My therapist wants me to stay out until October, but I don’t know if we can fiscally swing that. I have already had to ask my grandma for money which is incredibly humbling and simultaneously also humiliating. I’ve never had to ask for help financially since starting my career as a nurse. I’m prideful of that. 

This whole mental breakdown and reflection has been a lesson in humility, the kindness of others, and my faith in God. It’s hard. It’s hard to give up control when you’ve had to run a household and also 24 patients’ overall care. I’ve always had a “if you want it done right, you do it yourself” attitude - so it’s hard for me to sit and let God guide me. It’s very hard. 

As someone who doesn’t necessarily like to be alone with their thoughts for the most part (because it causes rumination and anxiety) sitting and waiting can be a nightmare. I pray and pray for help or an answer - and I’ve learned to also pray for patience. 

Not my strong suit. If I want something done, I want it done as fast as possible. This doesn’t happen most of the time with God’s timing. His timeline ain’t like ours (or so I’m told) so that’s where the faith and the patience comes in. 

I’m working on it. It’s a work in progress for sure. 

Nathan and I talked the whole way home, about 6 hours, about family, childhood, trauma, counseling, understanding each other and family better, and what we want for our family legacy. It was incredible. We hardly ever get to really have uninterrupted conversation anymore, and we learned a lot about each other I think. 

I am still struggling sleep-wise. 

I seem to get a nap of 2-3 hours in and then my body wants to wake up. Clearly some unresolved issues there. But I haven’t been taking my Atarax, as I am only trying to take the Zoloft. But I do know that if I need it, I need it. 

I was thinking about going down to see mom for a couple of days, but I don’t want to go alone. With children in school, it’s impossible to get anyone to watch them, which is totally understandable. That’s a lot. 

Kenny can’t go because his dog Luna just got bit by a copperhead and the vet bill ran him $2100. So he’s got to stay home and watch her and pick up extra shifts to pay off that, I’m sure. 

I don’t have any friends that I would be comfortable going on a soul searching trip with. 

I’d love to go to Jekyll again, but I don’t want to travel that far alone. I need the sun and the beach. It was very peaceful down there. 

Nathan and I were talking about how as we are getting older, we like the heat more, and could see ourselves really moving somewhere closer to the beach. Who knows. Life is too crazy right now to even think about it.

I’m going to try and maybe journal at night and see if it helps dump my brain before I sleep and maybe then I will be able to get a full night’s sleep and stop having these random naps. 

Work is looming over my head. Although I say that and I don’t physically feel any stress response - BUT - I know that my brain is smarter than me telling myself that I have to go back. I don’t know that I will have that panicked physiological response until I actually am scheduled to go back. I don’t know that I will be perfectly fine? I hope so. 

I do know that I will stay PRN when I return just to test the waters and probably nights at first because it’s SO much less busy at night. Plus it’s more money and I’m up all night basically right now anyway. 

Anyway. That’s my brain dump.

Insomnia

Well, the melatonin trick lasted approximately 2 whole nights. I went to bed around midnight, woke up around 4:30. 

At least I’m journaling.

And watching Hallmark movies.

I really wish I could sleep through the night.

But mentally, I feel better and better everyday. 

Yesterday we got out to Pike as a family so Nathan could get a bush. Surprisingly, the kids were really good for the most part. 

I have a wedding this weekend. 

I’m worried about it because Nathan looks so handsome and I have gained entirely too much weight. But I refuse to let those thoughts steal my joy.

I have 2 days without the kiddos and just my husband. I am praying for a wonderful weekend.

Working on Me

 It’s my second intentional journaling day. 

I woke up feeling surprisingly “good” - which I know is a relative term - but “good” for me feels like this:

- I can get out of bed and brush my teeth

- I can leave the house with my family for a short period of time before my nerves and the kids start to act up

- I can be patient with the kids

Not a crazy list right?

But let’s talk about depression and what that looks like for me. Most people think depression is sitting in a dark room alone. This isn’t true for most people with depression. We are out among you, faking our way through the day. 

This is what my depression looks like, on a “good” day like today:

- I got out of bed and brushed my teeth, but I didn’t change my clothes that I went to bed in, and I didn’t shower, and I didn’t make my bed.

- I left the house for a quick plant shopping run with the family, but I count down until bedtime so I can be alone. I struggle with this one a lot. My love for my children, but my need for solitude to collect my thoughts. It’s crushing.

- I can be patient with the kids, but when it gets too much, I have to isolate before I blow. See above.

- I binge eat a lot. Snacking is my go-to stress reliever. If I’m panic-attack level stressed, then I don’t eat at all. It swings both ways, but I’ve been in the binge eating stage lately and ballooned in weight. I’m being kind to myself despite this.

- My sleep cycle is so out of wack. I sleep basically in 3-4 hour increments. I experimented by adding melatonin at night, and it seemed to help a lot. Hoping it will get me more regular.

- I become a hypochondriac. Everything hurts, and could only be the worst possible diagnosis. As a nurse, I KNOW that this is irrational, but my body’s response is that of sheer panic.

- I start to get really self-conscious about my worth

- Everything can feel hazy, a little bit “not real”, like nothing really matters

- I will clarify that I have luckily and very thankfully never been suicidal or ever had a plan. (But if you do, please seek help. Your life is worth even more than you know)

Just being real. I have lost who I am as a person. Just over time. There was never really a huge shift, it just happened. 

I’m trying to find her again.

But today, being a “good” day depression-wise, things looked a lot less hazy, and a lot more clear. I actually giggled and felt a flash of a second of excitement and said “I feel good today!” - Nathan was happy.

But I’m a flash the excitement was gone, and back to the baseline. But I didn’t feel as fatigued while out, and I had more patience with the kids, which is telling me my new meds are helping. 

Depression is debilitating. Anxiety is debilitating. Both together is a war.

It is so easy to stay in bed.

It’s easy to have someone bring you food, so you never have to leave your room.

It’s easy to sleep all day.

It’s easy to isolate.

It’s easy to find a temporary release in food, sex, or another vice.

It’s H A R D to get up a put on a happy face and function.

It’s a struggle to cook food. I am still struggling with this. The motivation isn’t there.

It’s hard to maintain a normal sleep schedule so you can function with your family and society.

It takes EVERYTHING in my body to be around a group of people. I get so drained from interacting all day. It doesn’t mean I hate it, but I can’t do it all the time.

It is soul-crushingly hard to resist your vices when you are struggling and depressed. When depressed it feels like you’re in a constant need for your vices to feel SOMETHING. It can lead down a very unhealthy path, physical and emotionally. 

But I fail. I fail daily at functioning like a human who is emotionally and mentally whole.

My Grandmother told me that when she was about 30, she asked the Lord to enter her heart, and she said ever since then she had no anxiety or worry. And she’s truly right. I have never seen my Grandmother worry, even when my Dad passed. She trusted God. She still does.

I am jealous of people who can wake up and start their day and just function. Just be able to wake up refreshed and be out the door before noon. 

I am a a Christian, and I believe in Jesus as my Lord and Savior, but maybe I’m doing it wrong?

I am trying to attend church more, and get more involved. But right now recovering from burnout, I’m afraid.

I’m afraid to even take on something new right now.

I am afraid of judgement, which I know is so silly at 35. But I am. 

Just a random rambling.

I hope to meet with my counselor this week and hopefully have an update.

Times, they are a’changin’

 It’s been a long time since I have journaled. 

To be honest, the only reason that I am back is because I had a nervous breakdown and my therapist says one of my goals is to journal. 

I don’t know why I quit.

Actually I DO. Life. 

Life update: 

Russia invaded Ukraine, China is talking about invading Taiwan, and the US is at a 40 year inflation high. COVID 19 wrecked havoc on the US healthcare system causing millions to die and contributed to tons of burnout (mine included). Also during this time Ethan flooded the house that we just moved into causing 30k in water damage and 6 weeks rental hopping with 3 children. I transferred from med-surg to cath lab, back to med-surg, to an educator, back to med-surg as a manager, and recently stepped down to take a prn position.  It’s a great time to be alive, folks… (so much sarcasm)

Nathan is a fully stay at home dad, which is amazing for us, but also hard on me being the sole financial provider. But it is still the life we want! 

The kids started school last week: Benjamin in 2nd and Ethan started kindergarten. So now we just have Charlie home during the day, which is a nice adjustment.

I stepped down from a short lived manager position. I realized very quickly that the higher you climb the ladder, the more drama comes with it. Which leads me into the nervous breakdown.

I asked for help for months (read: BEGGED) from work and gave ideas and suggestions about how to lighten the workload. I was met with silence. I resigned and went prn in an emotional breakdown moment. About 2 weeks after that, I broke out in hives, requiring a visit to the urgent care. I received epinephrine (once IM and once IV!!!! Even though I questioned this as a nurse, the physician assured me it was okay - I learned later it is NOT okay.) which then bought me a trip to the ER and overnight observation. I developed PTSD and compounded with work stress, I had 3 panic attacks that resulted in ED visits. I have been working with my PCP who is amazing, on some meds and therapy. 

We don’t really know what caused the hives, but aside from a random mini breakdown a week later, I have been hive-free. So we all think it’s related to stress.

Hence the journaling. 

Life got too busy I guess. I also think I fell so hard into depression due to work burnout that I didn’t know where to find joy in my life. 

Journaling and writing helps. Walking helps. 

I’m still trying to find what brings me joy. 

At 35 (soon to be 36!) as a wife, mother to 3 beautiful boys, and nurse, I have lost who I am as an individual. I just feel so routine right now and that I’m just here to make money and provide. Which is fine, I am here to do that, but I have lost the individual and the joy in my role. So I am trying to find that. 

I can happily say that after 2 weeks of an increased dose of some antidepressants, I feel a little bit more like myself. A little bit. I can’t focus on anything worth a damn. That’s my biggest complaint right now. 

Mental health is so important, y’all. 

I preach it to everyone, literally, but I didn’t do it for MYSELF. 

I am someone who considers themselves mentally “strong”. I am suspicious, knowledgeable, not-gullible, and have been through a lot. I never ever thought in my entire life that I would be the one to have a nervous breakdown of sorts. But I did. 

I’m in it. Right now. Not breaking down, but rebuilding. Hopefully coming out of the other side stronger than before. 

I have always been burdened with anxiety, and I’ve always thought that I’ve “coped” well. I internalize. I don’t let people know when I’m stressed. When a patient codes, and we are trying to get them back, my heart is beating through my chest, but you wouldn’t know it by my face. You have to keep a level head, always. 

I have had panic attacks before, few and far between and have always been able to fix the situation. Either crying my eyes out in the shower for a minute, or just talking myself down in my head and taking deep breaths. Normal right? (It’s not)

But when I came home from the hospital, my heart rate was consistently over 120s, heading into the 170’s. I called EMS. I begged for a fluid bolus, and my heart rate went down. I couldn’t talk myself out of this panic. I was working myself up MORE. This was opposite of everything I’ve ever felt. I was so hyper aware. I could feel my heart beating fast, and was that chest pain? My jaw is hurting… that’s a sign of a heart attack in women… I’m dying. 

I did leave out the traumatic part of the urgent care story.

Long story short, when the nurse pushed the IV epinephrine under supervision of the physician, my heart rate jumped to over 200, I couldn’t breathe, and when I looked down, my feet were so pale. I knew I wasn’t perfusing. I took deep breaths and prayed to God that this isn’t how I go. They looked like corpse feet. Lifeless.

I felt deep pains in my chest, and prayed and tried to take deep, slow breaths. I luckily had the presence of mind to tell the nurse to STOP pushing it. Luckily it quickly resolved, but my heart rate stayed in the 120’s - 150’s secondary to the epinephrine use. The paramedics, the charge nurse in the ED, the nurses in the ED, the nurses that took care of me in my room, the physicians: all of them stated that they should NOT have pushed epinephrine IV. 

So, I’m struggling. As a healthcare provider, I know the risks. They literally could have killed me. Almost did. When I questioned the physician and said that the only time that I’ve ever administered epinephrine IV was during ACLS (ie: reviving a DEAD person), he said you can do it.

No.

Evidence based practice, which is what we all function off of as healthcare providers, states that you give IM or IV drip with titration. Which means that it is highly regulated and precise within a pump. IV pushes when mixed with saline are essentially bolus amounts. You don’t know how much is where, and where is is concentrated, or if it is evenly distributed throughout the vial.

I know this is boring.

But knowing this as a healthcare provider, and seeing how the system (the same system I work for) failed me multiple times, just makes me sick.

I see my PCP today for a 2 week checkup.

I got my hair done yesterday for the first time in over a year. My therapist told me that is “maintenance” and I shouldn’t feel guilty about it. I will admit, I feel like a new human with my hair fixed. It really is the little things, and I’m trying to embrace that. 

I have off work until October… I will see if I can take off that much time financially, but my therapist suggests that I take the entire time to heal. 

She said, and I agree, that “You can’t take care of other people when you haven’t taken care of yourself. There’s nothing left to give to others! It’s drained, gone.”

So, self-care. 

I’m trying to balance Mom-me and Me-me. But also dodge the ever-grasping arms of depression that want me to just stay in bed all day. It’s hard. It’s a battle literally. But it’s getting easier. Slowly. I feel like I can breathe again. 

But I am searching for joy. Praying for it.

Anyway, all this to say, mental health is important, especially with the world being in such a bad place right now. Take time to make sure you and your friends are okay.