When I'm not sick, I don't take it for granted. I take it lots of deep breaths, enjoy breathing through my nose, enjoy not having a sore throat, or coughing. I savor it. And you may doubt me, and say, "Oh, I never appreciate being well until I'm sick" but not me. Granted, I work in daycare, around dozens of snotty, coughing, booger picking & eating kids. I get puked on, I wipe noses, I wipe asses, I clean up after them. So yeah, I'm exposed to more than the normal amount of germs. Over the past 2 years, I've built up a much better immunity than when I first started (holy hell), but I still get sick more than the average bear.
That's not even what I came here to discuss.
I'm wearing thin. I can feel it. I haven't felt like this in a very long time. Years, even. Back when I used to have take medications to make it through a normal day. Back when I used to have keep pills on hand just in case a panic attack might randomly (or not so randomly) strike. I'm not sure when I decided to stop taking the medicine - I'm sure it had something to do with losing my insurance after the surgery debacle, but I don't really care. At some point, I decided I was going to beat this, and I did. I just... stopped. I stopped being that person. I stopped crying, I stopped worrying, I stopped hyperventilating, I stopped trying to sleep every waking moment away. And finally started living.
Isn't it funny that when I really had nothing in particular going on in my life, I suffered from panic and anxiety in the worst possible way? And then, bam, the unthinkable happens and a botched surgery ruins my life, my credit, our living situation, put me in endless debt, lost my job, my health insurance, my body, on and on and on.... and this was the time I chose to heal mentally. This was the time I chose to stop panicking. (As if I could ever choose this?)
To be honest, I mostly did this by a tried and true method of... blocking everything out. Otherwise known as denial or "ignore it and it goes away". Which I've found isn't entirely true... all the time.
So, this all comes up again because when I finally got around to filing our taxes last week, sitting down eagerly to get it done and get that refund.... I ended up owing. A lot. And I wasn't expecting it anymore than I was expecting the panic attack that sent me flying into an inconsolable and irrational hysteria for almost 2 days straight.
"Oh my god, I owe the IRS. I owe taxes. My life is over. I'm going to die. I'm going to jail. I've ruined our life. We're never going to buy a house. We're going to be homeless. Todd is going to divorce me for making us owe taxes. I am a failure at life. I've failed. I'm 25 and I've become absolutely nothing. I owe taxes and I should die."
This was my mind. That is a panic attack.
So, just a window into what goes through my head sometimes. And these thoughts made me so stressed that I became physically ill. And I couldn't sleep. So I was exhausted. By Friday, I was a walking zombie. All day long it was all I could do just to keep my eyes open. I got home around 1:30pm and slept until almost 8pm. I was done.
We had a fun weekend and I tried to let go of everything and have a good time, and it worked.
Then we lost Todd's phone.
Then we didn't have as much money as I'd like left over until pay day.
Then Monday rolls around and I'm too scared to call the IRS to figure out what I'm supposed to do.
Hello Tuesday. Hello sweet, beautiful, I-called-the-IRS-and-everything-is-going-to-be-okay-Tuesday. And tonight, I filed our taxes. And yes, I still owe money for the first time ever, and it was because of an error on my w4 which is now fixed, but it's all going to be okay. It's going to be okay.
It's going to be okay.
I'm still battling some of these thoughts, but I just keep having to tell myself that someone else has it worse. And it's just money. And it's going to be okay.
And it's past my bedtime.
That's not even what I came here to discuss.
I'm wearing thin. I can feel it. I haven't felt like this in a very long time. Years, even. Back when I used to have take medications to make it through a normal day. Back when I used to have keep pills on hand just in case a panic attack might randomly (or not so randomly) strike. I'm not sure when I decided to stop taking the medicine - I'm sure it had something to do with losing my insurance after the surgery debacle, but I don't really care. At some point, I decided I was going to beat this, and I did. I just... stopped. I stopped being that person. I stopped crying, I stopped worrying, I stopped hyperventilating, I stopped trying to sleep every waking moment away. And finally started living.
Isn't it funny that when I really had nothing in particular going on in my life, I suffered from panic and anxiety in the worst possible way? And then, bam, the unthinkable happens and a botched surgery ruins my life, my credit, our living situation, put me in endless debt, lost my job, my health insurance, my body, on and on and on.... and this was the time I chose to heal mentally. This was the time I chose to stop panicking. (As if I could ever choose this?)
To be honest, I mostly did this by a tried and true method of... blocking everything out. Otherwise known as denial or "ignore it and it goes away". Which I've found isn't entirely true... all the time.
So, this all comes up again because when I finally got around to filing our taxes last week, sitting down eagerly to get it done and get that refund.... I ended up owing. A lot. And I wasn't expecting it anymore than I was expecting the panic attack that sent me flying into an inconsolable and irrational hysteria for almost 2 days straight.
"Oh my god, I owe the IRS. I owe taxes. My life is over. I'm going to die. I'm going to jail. I've ruined our life. We're never going to buy a house. We're going to be homeless. Todd is going to divorce me for making us owe taxes. I am a failure at life. I've failed. I'm 25 and I've become absolutely nothing. I owe taxes and I should die."
This was my mind. That is a panic attack.
So, just a window into what goes through my head sometimes. And these thoughts made me so stressed that I became physically ill. And I couldn't sleep. So I was exhausted. By Friday, I was a walking zombie. All day long it was all I could do just to keep my eyes open. I got home around 1:30pm and slept until almost 8pm. I was done.
We had a fun weekend and I tried to let go of everything and have a good time, and it worked.
Then we lost Todd's phone.
Then we didn't have as much money as I'd like left over until pay day.
Then Monday rolls around and I'm too scared to call the IRS to figure out what I'm supposed to do.
Hello Tuesday. Hello sweet, beautiful, I-called-the-IRS-and-everything-is-going-to-be-okay-Tuesday. And tonight, I filed our taxes. And yes, I still owe money for the first time ever, and it was because of an error on my w4 which is now fixed, but it's all going to be okay. It's going to be okay.
It's going to be okay.
I'm still battling some of these thoughts, but I just keep having to tell myself that someone else has it worse. And it's just money. And it's going to be okay.
And it's past my bedtime.
