I had a super low mileage week last week. Around 30 miles. This was after two weeks of somehow keeping it together and hitting 40 miles two weeks in a row. My goal has been to keep around 40 miles as a base for now.
By somehow keeping it together, what I mean is. I was feeling crazy, out of it and not myself for three weeks. Hormones are a messed up thing. I couldn’t focus, I was getting hot flashes, headaches and I had myself convinced something bigger was wrong with me.I was trying so hard to not let my mind go to the scary place of what ifs, but I was way off and started to let the demons enter my mind. Living in fear. You can’t truly live if you’re constantly fearful. I would try to convince myself that even if something was terribly wrong with me (think terminal illness, because that’s where my mind was going), that I could be ok. You have to keep living and why waste your time living in constant panic and fear.
So I tried to fake it. I showed up when I needed to show up and acted like I felt normal. Confiding in someone when I felt like I needed to say something. You know when you feel off and you think everyone else can tell you feel off but in reality they have no idea? Yeah, that. It’s also a little tough for me, because I’m naturally an extrovert and so when I’m not all extroverty, I feel like people think I’m not friendly. So then at the time, faking it becomes extra important in my mind.
Two panic attacks and three weeks later, I am feeling myself again. Thank God, because that was not fun. Also, thankfully I’m still married, because I’m sure it wasn’t fun for Glenn either. Although he’s not the most sensitive person. Definitely not one to baby me and damn it sometimes you want to be babied. There are three other times in my life I can remember feeling this crazy. When I went off birth control, when I was pregnant before Marshall (miscarriage number 2) and then midway through my pregnancy with Marshall.
Conclusion: Hormones make bitches crazy. (me being said bitch)
And what nobody knows from the internet, is the truth. Of course I’m not going to post a picture of myself curled up on the couch feeling crazy. I’m going to post a picture of me with Marshall all smiles and everything. All looks great here- and yes it is ok right in that moment. I’m grateful I have these boys to keep me in line, because when I feel out of sorts I have to at least pull it together a little bit for them.
But just an hour before I was laying on the floor in my parents living room spilling it to my mom and sister- desperately hoping they would say something that would make me feel better.
So, there’s that. I came out of it sometime around Thursday last week. I was having my annual exam at the Doctor and just flat out broke down to her (like she has time for those shenanigans). She suggested some Cognitive Behavioral Therapy for when panic attacks or seasons of fear hit. I also have a prescription for depression/anxiety, but I have decided for now I’m going to forgo that part since I am feeling back to normal. If I was still feeling off though, you better believe I would have no shame in taking it.
What I know from experience is that trying to keep the normal routine for the most part is helpful to me when dealing with these bouts. At the same time, giving myself freedom to shut things down a little and take a few steps back is incredibly important. Not completely shut it down, because that would be a disaster. While running truly wasn’t making me feel better during this time- actually worse sometimes, I knew that if I completely walked away from my normalcy I would lose it.
When these spells hit, it makes me realize how serious this stuff really is. Every new mom is posting pictures of the perfect new world they have, talking about how in love with their little baby they are. But I bet, even if it looks perfect, most of them have gone through something similar. Sure, I don’t have to make it public knowledge and most people probably just want to keep it personal, but if I would have read this post when I was feeling so bad and scared, it would have given me a little hope that it will get better.