Faults and All

I sat in the hospital room once again with one of my children. It was a San Diego winter but non the less, sick season was upon us. Since my son was born it seemed the Emergency Room was our unwelcome second home. With ear infections and the flu becoming us (what felt like weekly). Every time my son got a sniffle I knew this was where we would land for a breathing treatment and a steroid shot, to then be sent on our way. So in some respect it was normal. A unfortunate familiarity. And what I have learned is when I let my guard down is when it’s easier for anxiety to hit me hard and out of nowhere.

I sat. Waiting. With the nebulizer in place it was only a matter of time before we would be discharged. My eyes fluttered in a subconscious attempt to take a micro nap. Something I was desperate for, for years. Relief from being tired. My wish would soon be granted by a flood of adrenaline. My least favorite way. 

With only curtains separating myself from the patient next door privacy was unintentionally breached as his story drifted into my ears. I began to hyperventilate. 

This patient was being placed on a psychiatric hold and his evaluation had just started. He spoke:

“I got home from work and my girlfriend asked to talk. She pulled open her phone and showed me texts between her and a coworker. She was feeling uncomfortable because it started to feel like the start of an emotional affair. I got so angry that I went to the strip club, got drunk and left with an escort. I then scared the escort at the end of the night and she called 9-11 and that’s how I ended up here. I was just trying to get back at my girlfriend for what she did.”

18 months prior my husband was in this same hospital being put on a psychiatric hold. In this exact Emergency Room. My breathing continued in rapid formation as I felt a sprinkling of past encounters with my late husband intermixed with what he just confessed. Flashbacks of this story ran through my head and compassion and fear grew for the girlfriend at home. My heart also broke for the man next to me that felt this was a logical option. His decision to do this affected himself and others who loved him. It all rang too true for my ears. 

In came the nurse with discharge papers. I went to stand up ready to bolt out of there when my vision grew black and I found myself laying in the hospital bed that once housed my son. In the distance and confused I heard the nurse in the hall say “so the son is discharged but the mom might be our next patient.”

I looked down at the wires attached to my fingers in confusion. Just then the nurse walked back in and asked if I was ok. I said through my tear filled eyes that I was just tired and needed to get some sleep. Afraid of the man in the next room hearing me I thanked the nurse and assured him I was ok.

As I merged onto the freeway I thought of the nurse. Regretting the fact that I stayed silent and held back the truth about what was going on. I felt like I did what was done to me which got me to this point of anxiety in the first place. I gaslighted him. Being gaslit myself for decades I recognized the physiological repercussions of it. Even knowing this I never reached back out to the hospital to let them know. 

I have had PTSD and anxiety. I’ve worked hard to address it. I find myself most days happy and productive. I take care of myself and what I am most proud of is that I love myself. Faults and all. But the point of this blog is to show the reader that I can do my best and still be caught off guard. Therapy has taught me coping mechanisms. I’ve learned to tell people around me that if they see me start to hyperventilate or hold my breath, to bring it to my attention. I’ve learned to listen and check in with my mind and body as well. I found more compassion for myself. I hope you can too. 

Most importantly I did nothing to provoke an attack but everything to prevent. Days I feel like I “fall back” in my progress I remember that sometimes when I’ve healed so much it no longer is on the forefront on my mind, or a creeping feeling in th back of my head, that those are the moments my beautiful body is caught off guard and panic consumes me. I choose to look at this as progress. And I choose to do this because I know it is.

Love,

Mariah