Everything was going great. Better than great. Sure, there had been some adjustments, to my new life down here, but I was learning to believe in happily ever after.
Things started to change, slowly at first. My mind kept drifting to the past, and I realized that this was happening anytime something in the present was making me unhappy or uncomfortable. It wasn’t even big things—just basic needs that I was so used to ignoring. One night, I was drifting because I had a sliver in my foot. Being in survival mode for so long, I had learned to ignore such needs, and plow through, so that my self-awareness was extremely low.
I started paying better attention, and realized that I often drifted off when I was tired, hungry, or thirsty. With this new awareness, I realized that I was quite exhausted, physically and mentally, nearly all the time. I tried working breaks into my day, but they weren’t cutting it.
Then, I started to notice that I was becoming fearful about going to work. I was beginning to make connections to things that had happened in my old job, and this led me to feel threatened. I have a series of questions I ask my self, when I am faced with a potential misperception, so I asked them and proved that my fears were unfounded.
Then, one evening, I found myself jumping to conclusions in the worst way, in a conversation with Rob. Everything he said, would somehow lead to us losing everything and our marriage being ruined. In the morning, I found myself caught in a terrible, negative spiral that I couldn’t pull out of. When I questioned my fears, my mind proved them to be true. I could take deep breaths, calm myself, and stabilize, but that was the extent of what I could do.
It was then that I started looking around, to see what may have triggered this. I noted that I wasn’t feeling the best—my sinuses were bothering me, and I thought I may have allergies. The next day, I woke up, terrified, and certain that I was in the midst of a nervous breakdown. I also noticed that I felt 100% miserable, physically. I barely had any voice, I would have a coughing fit if I wasn’t constantly sipping something warm, and I was beginning to get muscle aches.
I trudged through my workday, and a friend suggested that my mental freakout might just be due to being sick. I considered this, and realized that my fears started at the same time I started feeling tired. So I stopped questioning and dissecting my negative thoughts and fears, and focused on getting through the day.
During fourth period, I noticed that the floor was moving, in a way that resembled Moonraker at anchor. My teaching partner led the lesson, while I stood, wide-eyed and watched the room slant, and felt the floor rocking in the waves.
It was at this time, that my partner suggested that I might be better off spending the rest of the day at home, in bed.
So I spent the next three days in a Benedryl-induced coma, using my few semi-lucid moments to write comments on my friends’ blogs. Happily, I no longer possessed the capacity for worrying, thanks to that fruit-flavored pink liquid. It was a rather blissful time.
Then, unexpectedly, Saturday afternoon, I woke up feeling like a human being again. I no longer felt exhausted, and my brain was all done playing tricks on me. Some residual laryngitis was all that lingered, from my bout with the bubonic plague.
My brain was freaking out, because I was sick. But, did I get sick because I needed to rest? I think it’s very possible, since I tend to plow ahead and ignore the signs from my body, that I need to slow down. I do know that I plan to pay better attention to my body, and my basic needs, so that hopefully, in the future, I can recognize the need to slow down and rest, before I have to be forced to do so.