#Whole30 #Writing Log: Day 19

Free Fiction Has Come from the Wilds (3)

Thank you all so very, very much for your encouragement and prayers. I know I left things on a bit of a cliffhanger yesterday, so I’ll just pick up from there.

We got the kids from school and fed them an early supper. I tried laying down to see if that helped, but it only made me so damn dizzy to go to the bathroom that I refused to lay down again. I tried eating a little in case I was just lightheaded from not eating–nope. My chest continued to hurt, and my limbs started to feel weird.

Now that, well, that freaked me out.

One look to Bo is all it takes. Short of shoveling food into the kids’ mouths, he gets their coats and says we’re all going NOW. I keep counting my breaths and holding Bo’s hand while we drive. The kids are quiet. Not scared, I don’t think. Probably a little disappointed, actually, considering when I had my first severe panic attack they got to meet firefighters and climb all over the firetruck while the ambulance took me to the hospital. They still recall that as being “a fun day,” the turds.

This time we’re at a clinic, and I’m going to see a doctor. My kids are in the waiting room with their little video games, and Bo has my hand. I’m going to be okay. I’m going to be okay.

And I think because I was there, and knowing I was there to get answers, the panic began to subside.

Figures I calm down just in time to see the doctor.

But it was still a good visit. A professional who knows how hearts and lungs should work is telling me everything’s working as it should. She recommends investing in a wrist FitBit (Pffft, like I have money for that) so I have a visual realization whenever it feels like my heart’s racing, it really isn’t. She does go through various medications, and that I could start taking antidepressants if I so chose.

I squirm a little. Why am I squirming? Didn’t I want an answer like this, a pill that will make everything better?

What IS wrong, Jean? Seriously, what’s wrong?

This month marks 5 years since Dad died, eight years since Bo’s dad died.

You’re in the running for a full-time faculty position at the university.

You got named keynote speaker, so the pressure’s on to stand out during the lit conference.

Your sons got suspended from school again, and now you need to work out their neuro-evals for the sensory integration disorder.

You’re wondering how the hell you’ll write if you do land that full-time gig.

You’re worried about your daughter. Are you pushing her too hard, or not enough? Are you spending enough time with her, or not enough?

Money. Always money issues.

Some other family issues I promised not to write about but have been weighing damn hard on me.

Bo’s finally caring about his health, but is it too late?

And the bloody cherry on top of aaaaaall of this is that my Aunt Flo came this morning. (sorry male readers)

With all that on you and then the monthly hormonal chaos, is it any wonder a panic attack slammed you in the chest again, Jean?

The doctor’s still talking. Not about meds any more, but sensory distractions: essential oils, for instance, working more with music. Drinking a calming tea. Taking a Vitamin D supplement to counter the severe D-deficiency we all experience in these dark winter months.

I take my notes, thank her for her time. The kids are starting to go nuts in the waiting room, but Bo is there. His hand finds mine.

It’s going to be okay.

Maybe I’ll still need those meds, but I’d like to try the tea and the D and the smelly stuff first. No matter what, I’m gonna keep fighting this. Anxiety doesn’t own me. It won’t break me from my family or what I want to do. If I need Zoloft or something to help me fight back, then that’s what I’ll take.

But I will fight this, God. You put me through so damn much to make me stronger. I will not stop fighting, I will not. Stop. Fighting.

Nor should you stop fighting, readers. Never ever.

Keep reading. Sharing. Writing. Shining. Reach out with your hands to those around you. You never know who needs that hand of love to pull them out of the darkness.


30 thoughts on “#Whole30 #Writing Log: Day 19

  1. It must be still tough for you and Bo, thinking about your Dads. That’s an awful lot of pressure in your system. But you are strong and I have faith that you will kick anxiety’s butt. I was given a second hand Fitbit, didn’t find it that accurate – once on a run it was trying to tell me my heart rate was over 300. But as a guide they are useful, certainly it’s an incentive to walk a few more steps everyday. If you look on eBay you can often find them cheap when people go and buy the latest version. There is always a Yorkshire hand in the darkness if you need it.

    Liked by 2 people

    • Oh, that’s a good point about Ebay–didn’t think of that!
      And thank you. We’re both…ok. We know where they are. I guess it’s the kids that make it harder–seeing them laugh, get silly, fight, struggle, without a grandfather.
      Thanks for the hand. You’ve got a hand in Wisconsin farmland if you need it. xxxxx

      Liked by 1 person

  2. I’d like to give that Bo of yours a hug- he’s a good fella. And you too. And all the littles. God bless and keep you and give you peace, Jean. Breathe deep. And if you want essential oil and other “crunchy” advice, I have so, so many people who are hard-core into that stuff that I could definitely sic at you. xxxxxxxx

    Liked by 2 people

    • Ah, thanks, Friend! If you have some recs on the essential oils, I’d be happy to hear them! I found some good leads on anxiety-conquering teas that I’m keen to try. One thing I forgot to mention is that morning I’d drunk more coffee than I had since the whole30 started. I’m sure THAT didn’t help me either. 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

  3. Blimey – no wonder you’re having panic attacks. There is NO slack in your system AT ALL… And because you’re also having a go at this major diet overall, you are also cut off from some of your comfort foods. We call them comfort for a reason. *Biiiig hugs* But, as you say, there are some things you can try – like the tea and vitamin D and the smellies… Sending you a dollop of love and comfortxxx

    Liked by 2 people

    • Thanks so much, my friend. I’m still a bit…cruddy, but gobs better than yesterday. The doc said something that I know I’m guilty of: “You can’t dwell on it. When you dwell on it, it’s all you’re thinking of and your body won’t relax.” Well dammit, it’s hard to NOT think about it when I’m on my own so much, or driving. Driving’s the bad trigger for me, since I’ve had my worst panic attacks on the road with kids in the car. Figures I’m supposed to drive the kids to grandma’s this Friday…sigh…

      Liked by 1 person

  4. Wrapping you in hugs. I would say plates don’t get much fuller than yours. Here’s a tip that might make a little bit of difference. Poor John notices that I get anxious (and crabby) when I’m getting dehydrated. So keep the water coming.

    Liked by 1 person

      • And see, at one point (NOT this month, to be clear) I was drinking two pots a day. Now I can’t fathom how my body functioned with that much caffeine. Right now I’m down to four cups, five if I’m driving, and all before noon. (I’m up at, like, 4:30am, so these cups are pretty spread out.) It’s looking like this is my limit, which is fine.

        Liked by 1 person

  5. FES flowers makes a great anti-anxiety kit that includes St. John’s Wort in an oil, a mixed blend of flowers in a spray called Illuminate, and another mixed blend (of only yellow flowers!) called Be Bright in a roll-on. I bought them for myself as a Christmas present and they are a great rebuff to the dreary winter. I have a hard time this time of year, too, especially since my dad died in January about a million years ago (actually, 1994, but I was thinking the other day how I miss talking to him and wondering if I am losing my memories of him because it’s been so long) after a long battle with cancer. I never fully recovered from that; he was my rock, but on we go. Anyway, it seems the older I get the more I rely on these kinds of natural antidotes to beat back the negatives of life that have piled on like trash in a landfill. Everyone talks about letting go, but what about the things you were forced to let go of that you really didn’t want lose? All this to say the FES flowers make a difference. It’s subtle at first, but if you tune into the energy, it grows. If you want, I will send them to you. Email me if you are interested (you have it). The road can be dark, but it doesn’t have to be lonely. xo

    Liked by 1 person

    • That’s one of my pieces of sadness, too–that Blondie has said she can’t remember Grandpa anymore, the boys never will. Some days I struggle to remember his laugh, and then I want to cry. Damn, I know what you mean.

      But you know, there will always be that odd thing that brings him back. I still find notes of his in the Sherlock Holmes books in our basement. All the problems churning in our church actually make me think of Dad, and what he’d do (and then I usually get sassback for voicing such suggestions because it turns out our church’s pastors knew Dad in college and did NOT like him at all because Dad had, you know, PERSONALITY (our pastors are lame (anyway))). The recent issues with the boys keep making me wonder what Dad would say, and then it hits me–Dad and I actually butted heads quite a bit when the boys were babies…not that Dad was mean or anything, but he just couldn’t wrap his head around the idea that twin babies are NOT the same as just one baby, that colic does NOT have some easy answer, and so on. Basically that everything that worked for him when we were tiny wasn’t going to work on Biff and Bash. That was weird to him, not having the answer. And I can realize now how strange it’s going to be when my kid is going to know how to do something, but I won’t.
      And that’s the kind of thing I wouldn’t mind talking about with him.
      Wow, I’m long-winded, sorry! I love your point that we shouldn’t be told to let go just because “that’s whatcha do.” I *do* think, though, that certain things have to go…lots of the physical stuff, for instance. When Mom donated a bunch of Dad’s clothes, I was okay with that. What good do all those shirts do, hanging in the closet? But she kept a few of his favorite Dr. Who tees and had them made into pillows for each of us. It’s a little something that carries a lot of memory. Not all things carry memory, and *those* are the things we should be cool with letting go.
      But memories? Let’s keep best as we can. Thanks for giving me this chance to talk and talk. I’ve actually got a smile on my face thinking about all this. That’s a good sign to me 🙂 xxxxxxxxxx

      Liked by 1 person

      • Oh yes. I’ve been working on trying to get my mom and one kid together at a time, or have mom just being around the kids more. I know she was nervous having Bash over by himself for a sleepover, but he was marvelous and they had a great time. This Christmas was the first time she got to see them sing in church, and she was so proud–and they knew it. It’s events, doing things together, that Mom really wants with the kids, and I couldn’t agree more, because as we’ve been saying, things can often be let go. Memories of togetherness are a priceless treasure.

        (A line I think I may have to say to my mom as she has all three kids over for a two-night sleepover while Bo and I go out of state for a funeral. This will be a first for them all….hopefully not the last. 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

  6. Pingback: #Whole30 #Writing Log: Day 23 | Jean Lee's World

  7. Pingback: #Whole30 #Writing Log: Day 25 | Jean Lee's World

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s