During my carpal tunnel surgery,I felt like Jesus on the cross, getting my palms sliced open. I was wide awake and draped so I couldn’t see anything. I practiced deep breathing and concentrated on thinking of Grace to avoid a panic attack. It worked but it was fucking creepy to be awake and feel blood splatter my fingers!
I remembered how my suicidal plan was to cut my wrists with beauty school blades in the bathtub. Someone saved my life that night and it wasn’t my sister. She took me to the ER and told them I had a plan and I needed help. I spent the night in the ER and went to a behavioral unit in Mankato. 72 hour suicide watch. I was in shock when they stripped me of all my belongings, including shoelaces. I spent time in my room at first, isolating, thinking I didn’t belong there. I realized if I wanted to get out I should probably participate, so I did everything they asked me to do. They diagnosed me with severe depression and alcohol addiction. They recommended inpatient rehab. I said no, I want outpatient. They said okay, but if you take one drink you gotta go to inpatient.
That was 3 years ago, and I still haven’t had one drink.
Now I am experiencing panic attacks, and symptoms of post traumatic stress.
So of course I wonder to myself, am I crazy?
Jim assures me I am not, just a grieving mother with a background of serious trauma.
When I’m in the throes of anxiety and panic I feel like I am going to lose my mind.
I feel like I don’t even know who I am without Grace. I am her mother, and I am Jim’s wife, but I feel so….lost.