Yesterday, after lunch, I stopped to pick up the rest of the printed invitations. My vision got gray and fuzzy, my ears rang, and I thought I was going to fall over (and hit my head) and/or faint. I had to grip the wall, my shopping cart, counter, anything in order to finish the transaction and get to my car. I texted loved one almost every step of the way, trying to focus on each next step. I was light-headed, dizzy, and shaky.
There, after I got myself to the car, I asked her to talk me home. I called her and immediately burst into tears. Struggled to keep it together as I couldn’t fall apart that far from home. Drove at a snail’s pace, keeping an eye out for side streets and parking lots where I could pull in if necessary. I kept saying to loved one, “Just talk to me.”
Once I got home, then it was another Mt. Everest to get inside. Change into pajamas. Brush teeth and cuddle in bed (alone). I woke up at 2 AM (this crap has GOT to stop), but it was worth it.
Loved one thinks I had a panic attack. I think it was due to stress. (Could be both, of course.) I’ve never experienced anything like this before. I did look up panic attacks and saw that…guess what, grief and getting married are two potential triggers for panic attacks.
I have one hundred million things that need to get done today, but I can’t do it. It’s going to be a day (or at least part of a day) of cuddling in bed, trying to relax, and doing something that makes me feel good. I bought yarn to crochet a new shawl, and I have crafting supplies for the wedding goody bags (not that I have any idea of the final head count). I like doing arts and crafts as long as it’s simple and doesn’t require artistic talent. Think elementary school art projects. 😀
I am scared that the panic attack, if that’s what it was, will come back. That as I resume the frenetic pace of getting everything done (and dealing with people’s stupidity), my coping mechanisms will be insufficient. I’ve been raw and vulnerable for the past few weeks, ever since coming out and losing my family/pastor.
I’m really tired of being Vulnerable Ana.
I’m grateful for all of the love and support you’ve shown me in this time, but I’d so much rather make smart remarks about wooden spoons and tease loved one about her silly idea that British is best. (<3 ya, loved one).
On the other hand, I think it’s been my vulnerability that has called out such loving, thoughtful, gentle, and supportive responses from all of you. I can’t believe the outpouring of support. Who knew this might happen, back when I started putting a few kinky stories on my blog? Who knew? I’ve found my tribe, the love of my life, and the courage to tell people who I really am.
This is all good. I know it is.
Having loved one is good.
Getting married is a good thing. Grieving my father is a natural and necessary part of life. Grieving my mother and brother has happened far sooner than it should, but it would have happened eventually. It’s just that their loss has been one more stamp in a lifetime passport book of losses.
It will get better.
One teensy step at a time.