I’m in the middle of a breakdown.
Or maybe I had the breakdown and now I’m at the beginning of the recovery. I don’t know.
I do know that it’s really scary to write that word, breakdown, because 1) I am too proud of my ability to handle way too much shit, and 2) twice in my life I had the same person try to destroy my reputation with rumours of a breakdown that I didn’t have. And now that I’m actually breaking (or broken?), it’s really scary to admit it. I don’t want people who know me or work with/for me to think I can’t handle my business or my obligations, because I can. I always have, and I will continue to do so because I can.
But wow. I did not see this coming and I am really not enjoying it. I’ve had too much on my plate for a few years now. None of it is worth exploring in a blog, because despite my tendency to overshare I am still a surprisingly private person when it comes to the stress in my life. I am always the happy face and I always power through and I always (always) put too many other people and situations and obligations ahead of myself. I’m great at acknowledging the importance of mental health…but I kind of suck at it for myself. I public admit to needing help with ADHD, depression, and anxiety but I never let them be excuses or part of my identity. I have those things in my life, but they aren’t me.
A crazy, overbooked, whimsical Gemini? Yes. Those are labels I will give myself. But a depressed and anxious ADHD patient? Nope. No thanks.
So when a friend died tragically last weekend and introduced me to the first real episode of grief in my 36 years on this earth, I didn’t know if I was handling it well. I was a wreck. I was beyond a wreck. I was having flashbacks of an accident I didn’t even witness. I was sobbing nonstop. I was waking up in the middle of the night, sobbing so hard that it woke my kids up. My kids had to step up to comfort me for the entire Thanksgiving weekend because I couldn’t comfort myself. I was wrecked.
And I asked people if this was normal. I mean, she was a friend, but we had drifted in the past year or so. And it wasn’t my grandmother or my husband who had died. But I couldn’t function. I was completely broken. I tried to go to school on Tuesday and I made it through one class before I had to come home. I had to cancel my dance classes that night.
I was wrecked.
I was exhausted. I was nauseous and couldn’t eat. I wanted to at least drink wine and maybe fall asleep, but wine made me feel worse. I went to Walmart to buy Epsom salts and bubble bath, and I wandered the aisles like a zombie. Four days in, and I was still so wrecked.
I knew I had to let my brain and my heart and my body grieve. I know enough about mental health that I knew that I had to let these processes happen. I knew to go outside and get fresh air at 3am. I knew to force food into my body even though it tasted like cardboard pulp. I knew that I had to cry when the tears came. I knew to take Ativan, even though it felt like it wasn’t helping. I knew I could do this even though it hurt so much.
And then on the morning of Day 5, I found out that one of my dance moms passed away. We knew she had terminal metastatic breast cancer, but I thought she had more time. We all thought she had time.
And that’s when I really broke.
I was trying to drive to school that morning to see a crisis counsellor but instead I ended up on the couch in my parent’s house with my dad helping me breathe while I cried so hard. I thought my bones were going to break from the pain I was feeling. And I knew at that point that it wasn’t just two deaths in five days. It was that I had actually reached a point in my stress where I could. not. take. any. more.
I broke.
So my dad made me call my family doctor. And I found out that we have an Employee/Family Assistance Program (EFAP) through my husband’s work benefits. I found out how to log on, and was able to have a one-hour chat counselling with a counsellor. My dad took me for lunch and I ate a small bowl of soup. I emailed my professors at school to let them know where I was and what was going on, and also let them know that I had support and was safe.
I did go to school for one class on Thursday to write my French midterm, and I cried on the paper because we were analyzing my favourite excerpt from Le Petit Prince where he meets the fox and talks about being tamed. It was too much. And I emailed my prof after to apologize, but he was more than understanding. But it felt good to use my brain.
After my exam, I saw my doctor. And I told her I’d broke. And she understood, because she knew the immense stress I was already under before I was met with two deaths in five days.
Side note: did you know that the only other personal death in my life was my Gramma Joan in 2002? But she was sick and we knew it was coming, and it hurt but I was young. I remember sadness and tears…but not grief. It was just sadness and acceptance. It was part of life. I also had our “best family” lose their daughter in 2003, a few years after she was in a bad accident. It sucked a lot. It still sucks. So I’ve known death in my life, but I’ve never had to actually confront death.
So my incredible doctor walked me through a plan. She wrote notes for my professors. She wrote prescriptions for sleeping pills and Valium, because Ativan wasn’t cutting it. She doubled my antidepressant dose so that when the acute stress was over, I would have the chemical support for my brain to keep healing. She explained the physiology of grief in the brain because she knows I am a bit of a medical geek, and how the process of grief protects the brain. She told me to sleep, and to make sure I eat two meals a day no matter what. And then she taught me about needs. She told me that for two weeks, I am only allowed to focus on my immediate needs for the coming 24 hours. Not wants. Not obligations. Just needs. And no further in the future than the next day.
This is hard. I like to distract myself. I like to feel in control of my future, and this week took that control away from me. But I’m trying. I’m really trying. I cancelled my dance classes on Thursday. I asked my sister to cut my hair instead, so that I could feel some control over my life. I didn’t go to school on Friday, but I did get out of the house. I had lunch with Leith and I took Chelsea to ballet.
I’m focusing on needs. I asked Leith to take Chelsea to ballet today. When he woke up sick this morning, I was overwhelmed with anxiety about taking Chelsea to ballet. But I followed my prescribed orders. I emailed the ballet school and said that I was too sick to bring Chelsea to class today. Chelsea agreed to practice in her home studio instead.
I read through a thread of arrangements for my friend’s funeral. I kept up to date, but I haven’t offered anything yet because I don’t know if I can. And right now, helping with the event is a want and not a need.
Teaching our Disneyland parade choreography tomorrow? That’s a need. So I will find a way to do that. It’s only two hours. And I’ll do the solo choreography afterwards if I can, because it will feel good.
Today?
Crying at the idea of having two funerals next Saturday? That’s a need. I need to cry about that. That is going to be a really, really, really hard day. But I need to go to both because my heart will break harder if I don’t. I need to hug Bonnie’s girls and give them lots of love while they say goodbye to their mom because dance family is real family. I need to go to Stef’s funeral to have closure and see my friends and mourn her death with them.
Today I need a Valium, especially after writing all of this. I need to have a shower and wash my hair because I forgot that bangs don’t like to go two days between shampoos. I did have breakfast, so that’s one meal down. I need to nap more and cry more. I need to get outside and feel the cold air on my face. Maybe drive to town and get some running shoes because I feel an overwhelming need to run even though I haven’t ran in two years.
And I needed to write this.
I needed to step up and say that I am not okay right now. I needed to be honest and open about how I am coping with everything. I needed to let people know that it’s okay to not be okay.
I’m not okay right now.
But I’m safe. I am supported. I am cared for.
And I will be okay. I had a better day yesterday. Today, not so much. But I will be okay.
And that’s okay.