Hope

I think my body must've known it'd been three years, even though my brain didn't know until a memory popped up on Facebook. 

The anxiety I've felt all weekend has been pretty severe---chest pains, numbing, considering giving up on everything I've worked for. 

I couldn't figure out why I felt that way. Was it a money issue? A friend issue? A parenting issue? A divorce issue? 

I still don't quite know. 

But what I do know is that yesterday marked three years since my deepest heartbreak as a single mom. 

So maybe that played a part. 

When I realized this, I thought back on the past three years and all of the changes and healing that have taken place. 

I lost support. 

I left the church. 

I cut a lot of ties. 

I made new, genuine friendships. 

I came back to church. 

And I realized just how seldom I think about that day anymore. 

A portion of the past three years was spent being kicked down, building myself back up, only to be kicked down again. 

But I've learned how to better dodge those kicks. 

You guys, the remarkable thing is that I'm grateful for everything I've been taught in the past three years. I'm grateful for my time away from my church and the time I've spent back there. I'm grateful for a God who very promptly put healing tools in place when I felt like suicide was the only way to break free from my heartache. I'm grateful for the atonement of Jesus Christ and the ability He gave me to forgive myself for "hindsight" and also the ability He gave me to forgive others for the pain they caused. 

I don't know if that is why my body is feeling so much anxiety right now and I hate that. I hate how anxiety since the court trial has become hard to identify. It comes and goes fiercely, often times without explanation or warning. 

But I know it won't always be this way. I know the effects of the court trial won't last forever, just as the pain and anxiety of three years ago eventually dissipated. 

So at least there is hope. 

Anxiety and Hating Change

This has been a hard week---probably my hardest since the week of trial.

I didn't refill my prescription in time and went three days without my anxiety medication. In the past, this never really did anything to my body. It used to take longer for me to notice the reaction of going off of meds.

But not this time. 

This time it took 24 hours before my first major panic attack. Sobbing, shaking, screaming, needing my friends to take over the situation and let me walk away for a while.

And in counseling, the question I HATE came up again. 

"Are you going to hurt yourself?"

Because it's an awkward question. And I hate giving either answer.

There's this part of me that wants to say yes but not because the correct answer is yes. Sometimes I want to say yes so that somehow it will reflect the turmoil my anxiety gives me.

But I always say no because that is the truth. 

My thoughts turned to suicide during almost every small conflict I endured while being off medication but they were never plans. There's a difference. At least, I'm learning there is a difference.

The good news is that each time those thoughts came to my mind, they startled me and I immediately knew they were irrational.

But I guess that's why I get so frustrated with my brain. Because if I want to live and thrive, why would my brain EVER consider the possibility of death as a means to an end for my anxiety?

Death is permanent. I don't want that. So why did I keep going there?

**************

I wrote all of that a week ago and never finished it.

I have been faithful with my medication and I'm handling my anxiety a little better.

But last night, I felt all of it crash down. I promised myself I wasn't going to go early to my daughter's dance practice since it's Peter's night with her and I don't teach until later on Wednesday evenings. As I was leaving work, I had a strong impression that I needed to go to the studio just in case she needed me.

And I'm so glad I listened to that impression.

I got to the dance studio and my baby girl was crying on and off in her class. I pulled her out and asked what was wrong and she told me she forgot her dance bag and her dad wouldn't drive back to the studio and bring it to her.

I was floored.

You guys, he lives three miles from her studio.

He also didn't send her any food and she dances for four hours on Wednesdays.

After feeding her some of my dinner and calming her down, she went back in to class and I broke down in front of all the other moms.

This Wednesday thing has been awful. I hate it. I know it's only one day of the week but the kids do not like going to Peter's house on school days. Our son cries every Wednesday morning and begs me to pick him up from school instead of his dad.

It breaks my heart that I have to send them somewhere they don't want to go.

I am so glad I get to take my kids out of town for Spring Break and have them for 9 days straight. We all need a break from this new custody schedule. It's been two months and the kids are still not used to it.

Luckily, our dance studio family is amazing and they cleaned out a drawer just for my girl so she can put extra dance clothes and snacks in there if she ever needs them.

But it is so hard to watch your kids hurting and not be able to protect them. That absolutely drives my anxiety over the edge.

All I wanna do is protect my babies.