Some days things just get worse

This weekend was a tough one for me. The six month mark (I'm loathe to call it an anniversary) took a toll on my on Saturday. Then, on Sunday, when I tried to get some work done, I entered into a new world of panic attack that I never before knew. First I became stressed over the work I had to do and all that went along with it. As a relief, or so I thought, I decided to take a walk in Prospect Park.

After a few minutes of sitting on Karen's bench I continued along the path until I got to the baseball fields. There I ran into my brother and nieces who were finishing/starting their games. For a little while my anxieties subsided, but then as I began home a new and intense level of panic began flooding over me. At first I thought I was getting chilled since it was a bit cold as the sun set, but as it increased I realized that the shivering, numbness, and near paranoia that was taking hold of me was something altogether different.

As soon as I got home I took a long, hot shower. Still feeling chilled I put on thermal underwear - top and bottom - and sweatpants and shirt. Capped off with wool socks. Feeling slightly warmer, and a little like a neurotic Michelin Man, I climbed into bed at 8:30 and was asleep almost immediately. It wasn't the most restful night sleep I've had, but I was able to sleep through the night and wake nearly 11 hours later.

I felt better in the morning. Not good, but better. It is all about increments I'm finding. I could write an entire entry about work and my frustrations there, but suffice to say that I made it through yet another day. But what I found in my mailbox when I got home pushed me back to where I was over the weekend.

Junk mail sucks and bills are generally bad enough. Advertisements for baby products and free Similac samples I'd thought were the worst. Nothing, however, compares to getting the proof of Karen's and James' grave marker for final approval. I felt the air literally suck out of my body and but for the kitchen counter to grab hold of I'm not sure my legs could have held me up much longer.

So there I was, standing in the kitchen, the waves of pain from the prior 48 hours, not to mention the prior six months, hitting me square in the face while looking down at the proof. It was difficult to see the plaque on the bench, but this was a magnitude more of despondency. Just as I thought things were difficult with the weekend, work, and my general emotions, this arrives and throws everything down a couple levels.

I think a hot shower, thermals, and sweats might have to happen again tonight and just maybe tomorrow will see an increment back upward for me.