Pulling the pieces together
From February 6th, 2021
When I was younger, I would write every event that ever took place in my journals. Through the mundane and the exciting times, I had accounts of it all. Sorry to say, that most of the writing was done when I was in a melodramatic state. The focus generally was on the hard times, but the good times were sprinkled in. I have four different journals, spanning from first grade to the present. In the more recent years, I moved away from writing in my journal. I have a few random memos that I had saved on my computer, but upon reviewing my work, I found that the last thirteen years or so were essentially missing. Trying to fill in the pieces now would be pointless. The dates, the feelings, the people…they are all just distant memories. But wow, how did I let it all go by without reaching for the pen? Writing has always been my therapy, and I turned my back on it. Without realizing, I think this was one of the reasons why I really lost myself. Without the constant internal dialog, I was moving through the moments, but never taking the time to appreciate or process them the way I had done in the past. One of my biggest regrets is to not have real-time accounts of the time leading up to my marriage and the birth of my two children.
I would say that over the last seven years I have been experiencing a significant transition of self. When I was younger, my goal was to be a mom. I thought that was my life’s purpose. Unfortunately, my unrealistic expectations led me to a situation that I am only now starting to understand and work through. Having a child changes the dynamic in anyone’s life but losing the sense of who I was at my core was something I had never anticipated. When my daughter was thirteen months old, I broke. We were all healthy and happy. I was working my dream job, planning to return to school (again), and to any outsider, my life was a dream. The years of abandoning my feelings and needs to meet societal expectations that were only real in my mind, had caught up to me, and the final straw was laid. Now nearly seven years later, I am ready to start the journey to figure out who I am today and how the hell I got here.
My mental illness led me to live in a constant state of derealization. While this symptom persists today, I can cope with it and embrace it as my superpower, rather than avoid it and allow it to spiral out of control. The panic attacks were endless and the anxiety relentless. The first few years that I was “sick” I felt that I had lost all control over myself and my life. I sought help from every angle, trying medication after medication, and therapist after therapist. I even went as far as seeking out medical specialists, who I was certain would find something tangibly wrong with me, something that was not just in my mind. No matter what flavor of the week I tried, I was still stuck. Cognitive behavioral therapy helped me to get back to a more normal existence, but a quick fix was not in the cards. After all the time wasted chasing an explanation, I finally arrived at the conclusion that the answer I was seeking was something I could only find within. Now with reflection and time, I think I am ready to get to work. My soul feels like it is being pulled, and I think this newfound energy has to do with finding the reason why I am here on this Earth.
The following is an excerpt that I wrote describing what took place on the evening of 1/13/2021.
Went up to bed around 10:40. Knocked out pretty quickly and hard. Was awakened by what felt like electrocution. Specifically in my heart. Right before I opened my eyes, I felt like I was in a black hole with a circular laser light of blue that kind of twirled in a spiral, but more erratic looking than in a neat shape. My hand was on my husband’s back and I was trying to say something but felt almost paralyzed. When I finally snapped myself awake, I was in full panic mode. It felt like electric going through my arms. This happens when I have panic attacks so I’m chalking it up to that. I tried to fall back asleep, but my heart kept feeling like it was flying out of my chest. Like an electric vibration. At this time, I picked up my phone and it was 11:38pm. Not sure how much time passed in between. My body was shaking like I had a fever, but of course I checked, and it was totally normal. Panic attacks between sleeping and waking continued on and off until about 3am in the morning when I think I finally fell back to sleep for good. At one point, my chest was on fire and I was sweating only in that area, which is weird for me because I’m not a sweater. I honestly thought this was a heart attack. Even with my breathing exercises I couldn’t get myself back to “normal.” The feelings were deep in my chest and the vibrations were so fast that I couldn’t compare it to anything I had felt before. Felt like a train moving through me. Woke up in the morning thankful to see the day and I did tell my husband what happened to see if he remembered any of the details. He didn’t.
It turns out, a friend of mine who has been key to my spiritual journey, was practicing his dream telepathy and was trying to reach out to me at exactly the same time that I had this experience. Of course, we can chalk this up to another coincidence, but he had almost the same experience with another friend when he tried to reach out to her through a similar technique. While he did explain that he knew “something” had happened, our perspectives of what that something was did not line up. It did appear as if his focused energy opened a portal for me to receive this message. A message that I was not sure how to interpret, so I asked for the help of my spiritual mentor and family friend. [To be continued]