I often like to portray that my life is very organized and under control. Most of the time I think I pull it off... balancing my home zoo and work zoo and wedding plans...
But not this week.
For those who don't know, I have a problem with anxiety. (*WARNING - GRAPHIC ICKINESS FOLLOWING*) My anxiety attacks manifest by convincing my body to empty itself through every portal possible.
As a child, when a boy I had a crush on sat down next to me I rushed off to the bathroom and threw up. This continued in high-school, and it's hard to convince your boyfriend that he doesn't gross you out when you puke after every make-out session.
After a tragic breakup, I was unable to eat for about 5 days ( I tried, but it would just come back up) and the doctor finally told me I had to at least keep down a milkshake or she was going to admit me.
I started medication around this time for depression and anxiety, I don't remember what the first one was, but one of them was Paxil. I've also been on Welbutrin before settling on Lexapro.
About 5 years ago I had a major run in with the demon. A good friend had recently passed away at a very young age and I took it upon myself to try and take care of the family she left behind (husband and two kids) and the rest of our social group that was grieving. One Friday night I started throwing up and having diarrhea and it didn't stop. My mom came to rescue me and took me to her house. We turned off my cell phone and I spent the next four days going back and forth from her bed to her bathroom floor. I couldn't take any anti-diarrhea or anti-nausea meds because nothing would stay in either end. I was convinced I was going to die. I went to the ER and they gave me some fluids, and the next day I sat down with a counselor and started working on letting the stress go.
I had to learn to not try and be "the strong one" and learn to accept help from my friends and loved ones instead of being the one giving all the help. It took me quite a while to get a handle on that.
Fortunately, those that love me love me regardless of the fact that sometimes I am a puke and poop fountain. They know that I can get overwhelmed and need to take care of myself.
The last week or so I have not slept well and starting on Thursday afternoon had some "bowel issues" that left me dehydrated and wiped out. When we got home from fetching Stinkerbell from the vet yesterday I was already struggling. As she came out of anesthesia it became clear that she was going to need constant supervision or sedation to keep her from licking and digging at her incision. I got the ok from the vet to give her a quarter of a Benadryl and then left her in Scott's care while I attempted to go to bed.
When he came to bed I woke up and knew instantly that I was not ok. This was around 2am. He and the Stinker went to bed so he could make sure she was sleeping, and I took up residence on the bathroom floor.
After a couple of phone calls and prayers from my mom and another friend, I went out to the back yard and just paced and tried to breathe. I sent out about 20 text messages asking for prayer and have had an overwhelming response from right after I sent them to this afternoon - everyone assuring me that they are praying hard for me and checking to see if I am ok.
Once I came inside I took a Benadryl myself and tried to sleep, finally getting about 20 minutes at a time until around 9am this morning, when I took another half Benadryl and relaxed enough to REALLY sleep.
I am so thankful that God holds my life and plans. I don't need to worry about the details.
Stress, you have not beaten me yet.