In June this past year, I didn’t know how I’d work at my job past the end of the month. I had hit rock bottom.
Every single cell in my body, as well as mind and soul, was screaming “STOP!”
I had work-related nightmares, was exhausted, bitter and angry, had tension headaches and chest (and eventually shoulder) pain from being diagnosed with tietze syndrome earlier in May, dishes would pile up for days before I had energy to wash them, and I’d need a nap after a shower.
Let’s not even talk about laundry or the three flights of stairs.
I was depressed and having suicidal thoughts every day, sometimes so bad I had to leave the office and work the rest of the day at home (when my mind was really screaming at me). A couple of times, they got so bad that I couldn’t get out of bed.
That said, the other cognitive issues were the worst part.
I’d read and re-read the same sentence, my eyes seeing words but my mind not catching any meaning from them. I’d forget why I stood up or went into a room and I’d lose my train of thought in the middle of a sentence. That’s when I knew I had really hit rock bottom.
I’d literally be speaking with someone and then just stop and have to say, “sorry, I have no idea what I was saying.” My mind had just gone blank mid-sentence. I couldn’t think of everyday words and I had to write everything down because there was no way I’d remember that thing just two minutes later.
I was also easily overstimulated. Too many people around me – in the office, on a ferry, on the subway, etc. – made my heart race and I felt like I needed to escape – NOW. Being around kids was the worst because they’re so high energy, loud, invade your space without realizing it, and are just walking chaos. I also couldn’t listen to someone speaking to me while the sound of the TV was on – too many inputs.
I genuinely thought I might have chronic fatigue syndrome because no amount of rest helped. I finally went on medical leave in September.
Nothing else mattered. Being able to rest reminded me of the week or two I spent at my dad’s the summer after 9th grade and basically slept 12-18hrs a day because I was utterly spent. Only this time, I couldn’t bounce back.
After moving to my new apartment, I went on nature walks, started swimming once or twice a week, and sometimes went on calm bike rides. I still needed to sleep once I got home, but that was the beautiful thing: I could. There was nothing and no one stopping me from resting and recovering.
When I had more energy, I sometimes went into the city to take a ferry ride or go on a walk. When it started to get colder and I had regained a bit of energy, I made a big batch of my grandma’s vegetable soup. My work-related nightmares started to go away and I started feeling human again.
Everything I was experiencing – everything others had thought me a hypochondriac for – was now validated. It wasn’t just all in my head. I can’t tell you how amazing it felt to be seen and heard by my doctor. She didn’t just tell me I needed a week to rest and that diet and exercise would make everything better. She saw that I was completely and utterly spent and that the very structure of me was broken.
It really sucks when people don’t believe you or think you’re just complaining, but now no one could tell me that I needed to suck it up, double down, work harder, smarter or longer. I am not a machine.
I’ve come to realize it is not the norm here to have a doctor who is entirely supportive of you and respectful of your limits. My doctor is.
She has not rushed me to get back to work right away, part or full time, and she could see I had hit rock bottom. In fact, I am the one setting the dates for returning to work (at 25%, 50, 75% or 100%, as they do here) in conversation with my doctor instead of a top-down approach of her telling me what I can and can’t do. I feel fully supported by her in this process, and that’s incredible.
Living in safety mode, or what psychologists call having a balanced “safety system,” was a foreign concept to me until this past fall. All my seemingly endless lists of tasks or goals or should-do’s just fell away (unless they were a grocery list or something important I didn’t want to forget). In what feels like the first time in 15+ years, my mind isn’t focused on survival.
And you know what that means?
It means I’ve started dreaming about and visualizing my future.
I’m a visual person so Pinterest has helped a great deal with this. Healing after having hit rock bottom has meant that my mind is at ease enough to start to dream about the kind of life I want and might make me happy. That in turn means I have hope that my future doesn’t have to look like my past – that there’s more to my life than past trauma. I’m not all that positive about the state of the world, but I’m actually daring to hope that I can live a balanced, happy life. That’s groundbreaking.
I haven’t been my first priority pretty much my whole teenage years and 20s. There has always been someone else to save or support: family member, situationshipper, boyfriend, friend, roommate – you name it, I was there. I was always the one you could count on when shit hit the fan. But this time, I could physically not operate as a functional human being and I was both scared and relieved.
I now had the opportunity to focus entirely on me. Walks in the sun, face mask at home, audiobook before bed – all things that, taken together, have helped to revive me. When a family member asked for help in starting and managing an Instagram account, I said no, even though I was the most qualified person in the family to do so. I just couldn’t take it on. I had to say no, and it hurt to say no to family, but I just. couldn’t. do it.
Is it going to cost me peace/deplete my energy? Automatic no.
The added upside to all this? Once you’ve hit rock bottom, the only other direction is up.
This is going to sound incredibly dramatic, but I am slowly recovering from approximately 20 years of living in fight or flight mode.
I had no idea what it meant to live in rest mode until September. I honestly didn’t think it was possible to live that way unless you’re very wealthy. Every day is still a balancing act between recovery and challenging myself to be active in some way, but I’m no longer willing to sacrifice my mental, spiritual or physical health for work. That means setting – and sticking to – boundaries that keep me in this lane when I’m tempted to “go the extra mile” or be a perfectionist so I don’t hit rock bottom again.
I’m picking my battles from here on out, and I promise myself this:
I will choose myself each and every time.
With all that said, I’m not trying to tell you to be grateful for your pain and trauma and that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.
I am, however, grateful that I had an obvious reason for stopping everything and focusing 100% on my health. I know that’s a luxury and privilege, but focusing on your health doesn’t need to mean hitting the gym every day (it certainly didn’t for me) or going on medical leave. Focus instead on what brings you peace and try to integrate those things into your weeks.
That can mean nature walks, sitting in a sauna if that’s part of your gym membership, sitting in a dark room lit by candles, etc. Do something that is easier to integrate into your life and also take stock of what you might be able to offload. We are so hyperaroused all day, which means calming and regulating our nervous system is incredibly important.
I’ll be adding tips and tools to the Toolkit that will help you to not hit rock bottom like I did. Stay tuned!
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