Today I'm sharing a journal entry I wrote last July. I always like to go back and reflect on what I've written. It's incredible how much things can really change over a year, a few months and even days. It is true that all things pass. But it is not just time that allows things to pass, it's what you do in that time. Writing for me helps a lot with this process, it's a place where I can safely unload everything, and it allows a little bit of weight to be lifted off my shoulders. It often doesn't fix anything, but I really do get a small sense of relief after. And looking back at it all makes me appreciate just how far I've come, because it's often hard to recognize that.
This post is about anxiety, something that never really impacted my life until after losing Isabel. I can't say that I don't have anxiety anymore, but I'm having less of it, and I have learned how to manage.
I am sitting here by the window, it looks beautiful, the sun is shining right on me. But I don't feel beautiful inside, I feel empty and anxious. I'm waiting for an appointment to adjust my return to work schedule again, it's just not working. I also need to talk to a professional again, now that things have changed, and I'm finding myself dealing with new issues. I need help organizing all these new thoughts and anxieties.
I feel like every week I come into work I am so emotional and want to cry. It's a feeling that I can't control. I don't know what it is. I'm comfortable enough being there now, but doing the work that is supposed to be really easy for me, is proving to be so hard. It shouldn't be this hard. I can't remember anything anymore and I'm really struggling with finding my rhythm again, I guess this is life after loss. I'm easily confused. I'm having trouble with my memory. And I cannot concentrate.
I've never really felt anxiety like I have these past few weeks, I've felt anxious many times, but nothing like this. It's terrible and I wish it on no one. Sometimes it just gets me, it hits me from behind without me knowing, my heart starts beating faster, and I can't think. I don't know what to do. I know where and when I feel safe, but I don't know how to get that feeling when those options aren't available.
I crave for easy, I crave for how easy it was before. I can't manage my time, my thoughts are so unorganized, and I can't figure out how to get myself back, or at least the parts of me that I need back.