Two mornings ago I had a panic attack. While I was able to get myself out of the panic mode — through meditation, isometric exercises, and writing time — I was unable to bring myself to a semblance of health. I continued to suffer from high levels of stress, which kept my body tense and in pain. Plus, while I accomplished some at work, I was much less focused and reflective as I usually am.
I couldn’t have called in sick; I was already at work. I should have just gone home, called it a day.
The lesson from two days ago, as I’ve pointed out in a previous post, some days you don’t win and conceding is alright.
We all have days of poor health. Caught the cold; feeling sick to the stomach; or deep in the grips of Anxiety that won’t let go no matter what calming efforts you try to work yourself through.
The lesson, which I need to keep reminding myself of, is that while I’ve won the Depression battle with my current mix of meds, Anxiety is still a presence, just at a level that is much more acceptable than It once was.
I don’t want to rehash the Anxiety of old, just to say It was a near constant presence a couple of years ago, before my change in meds and advice for action from my therapist.
Now, I experience Anxiety in small measure each morning just before my meds have a chance to kick in. If stressors of the day ahead hit me, sometimes the Anxiety sticks, and I try to work tricks to bring my brain back to a healthy place — which I am often successful at (e.g. writing, exercise, self-therapy talk, (recently) meditation, etc.)
But sometimes I can’t win. Calling it a day or accepting that the day is just going to be less than I hoped for needs to be okay.