A Breakdown Felt Like *the End*, but Was Really the Beginning
Ending is another word for new beginning
Sometimes our life journeys feel hazy and unclear. A few years ago, I drove under a highway bridge and looked up. The sun was shining, strong and glorious through a crack above. There was just enough light to remind me that sometimes, often really, the big picture of our lives is not illuminated for us. Would you have the courage to take the small steps each day if you knew what was coming around the corner? The good and the bad? Marriage, divorce, births, miscarriages, new jobs, lost jobs, health, sickness, death, and more. We would probably wander the earth in a constant state of helpless overwhelm.
We’re given just what we can handle, even when it feels to be too much. Mid-2019 through mid-2020 was a year in my life when the light dimmed, I became worried, and numb, and my mind began wandering with helpless overwhelm. In hindsight, I’d pushed myself too hard, ignored my physical and emotional feelings, and avoided some difficult choices.
In a type of swirling vortex, my avoidance began to push itself outward, saying, “Stop! Pay attention. You can’t keep doing this.” I pushed back and back, in resistance. I willed everything to be just fine.
July 4, 2019
I chose to work a half day at my garden job. It was quiet, hot, and uncrowded. I wore hot pink shorts and sneakers. Our garden needed some major cutting back, so I wandered around cutting back plant matter. It was serene.
Then, I felt something by my foot. I looked down and saw the beautiful patterning of a copperhead snake. My adrenaline shot up as I backed away, reached for my phone, and texted a supervisor to confirm the id. Yes, it was a copperhead.
It hadn’t struck. In fact, the few times I’d brushed into copperheads they’d been very docile. Still, I knew it was venomous and I felt exposed. It was scary. I drove to a family 4th of July celebration, choosing back roads to get there as I had anxiety highway driving. My adrenaline kept pumping.
Sitting with family, I had a beer, and talked. Then, a relative told a story about work that was very disturbing. The OCD intrusive thoughts started running circles in my head. I couldn’t unthink the story. I’d decided to go home that evening while my family camped out there. I drove home, shaky. I felt unsafe. I felt my family was unsafe. I felt unsafe. I knew it wasn’t logical. I didn’t know I had OCD. I thought it was just my old pattern of anxious thinking. As I begin writing about my past, I realize I’ve had this OCD pattern for the bulk of my life.
A few weeks later in July, I had to deal with cleaning up a nose bleed at work. It was messy and I wasn’t sure the safest way to deal with it. I was alone in my area. Again, I felt unsafe. This incident triggered contamination OCD in a way that almost had me not leaving my home. Although, I’d had contamination fears for much of my life, I would often stuff them down, and keep going forward. This time was different. I felt terrified and frozen — I was afraid of everybody’s germs and I was afraid of contaminating everybody with my germs.
I was afraid of the germs on my skin. I was afraid to sneeze. I was afraid when other people sneezed. I was afraid other people weren’t taking things seriously. I’d perceive some germs got on my legs and in the kitchen at home I’d grab Clorox wipes and start wiping my skin. My husband was beside himself. He knew I needed help and he didn’t know what to do. I knew I wasn’t being logical. When you have a compulsion, knowing it’s not logical doesn’t magically make you stop.
I begrudgingly called my psychiatrist to discuss what was going on. She diagnosed me with clinical OCD for the first time in my life. I was 41. It was a shock and it wasn’t. My therapist was surprised. Why hadn’t I told her about this? I’d told her so many other things over the nine years I’d seen her. Many of my family and friends had no idea.
I didn’t yet have the words to talk about it. I was learning to accept I live with clinical OCD. I didn’t know how others would react. Was it something I should keep secret? The medication I was prescribed made things worse. I quit taking it. My psychiatrist didn’t like that. I decided to find a different psychiatrist. But, I didn’t actively seek one out until things got worse.
Thanksgiving 2019
Thanksgiving is a pretty big, social deal in our family. It moves around from year to year, but it’s family focused. I was spinning out of control. My thoughts were trapped and circling. My paranoia was growing. I’d lost my ability to fake being well. Anyone who was in the same room with me knew there was something wrong.
I didn’t want to go to Thanksgiving. I was on my period and felt like a biohazard — part of the OCD. I was afraid to sit down. I was disassociating a bit. We were with my husband’s large family. They said “Happy Thanksgiving” and I mumbled something back. We are huggers, but I stood stiff, daring anyone to try to hug me. As the day went on, I found corners in which to awkwardly stand, waiting for the day to be over. When it was time to go home, I was relieved. We got home, I went straight to our bed, and sobbed.
I was having health problems. I was sore all the time. My stomach was hurting. My stomach was hurting a lot. After getting through Thanksgiving, I had no desire to celebrate Christmas. I lay in bed, eating nachos and candy, watching Netflix on my phone and sleeping, except for when I had to go to work. I was acting weird at work, too. I was trying to keep myself from having a complete breakdown. I didn’t grasp the extent of what was going on. My husband was getting more and more bewildered. I was short with the kids.
The Blur — Late 2019-Early 2020
I spent day after day in a darkened room alternating sleep with sobbing in bed. Day after day alternating work with sleep with junk food, and sobbing, cordoned off, away from everyone. Day after day, being lost in the paranoia of my mind. Day after day wondering why I was even in my family. Day after day wondering if I should stick around. One day, realizing I was having suicidal ideation. I told my husband. He knew I couldn’t be left alone. Day after day after day after day. Physical pain. Mental anguish.
I felt my heart breaking into pieces, like shrapnel, and stabbing despair into my bones.
Feeling helpless, I went to work, choking back tears, afraid to sit on the toilet. Day after day.
Christmas happened. New Year’s happened. Somewhere in there, we lost our hot water for a week. It sent me further over the edge. It was arranged for my mom to come take care of me for a week. My husband needed to drive the kids to his mom’s house so they could have a break from my breakdown. I went for the ride because we were afraid to leave me alone. I was excruciatingly embarrassed.
My mother in law came out to the car, teary eyed, and said kind words, encouraging me to take care of myself and get better. I was relieved by her kindness. And, embarrassed to be seen falling apart.
When my mom arrived, she advocated for me, cared for me, took me to doctor’s visits, and got me to put on clothes and take walks. She was firm and kind and she was convinced from all the pain, good would come. And, she was right. She is the reason I didn’t have to be checked into a mental hospital in January. For this, I am eternally thankful. That’s how my 2020 started.
January, 2020
New medication, confirmed OCD diagnosis with new psychiatrist, batches of health tests. Quit my job, which I’d grown very attached to in the prior two and a half years. Felt like my coworker/friends might desert me. Spoiler — they didn’t. Not at all. In this time, I learned the kindness of people.
Health tests came back — Full of shit, literally. Small hiatal hernia. Acid reflux. Gastrititis. Had to have my first colonoscopy and endoscopy to find most of that out. Was terrified. Got through it. Saw a rheumatologist. All the tests looked normal. My PCP thought I presented like someone with fibromyalgia and polyarthralgia but I never got an official diagnosis. The new medication helped with my pain, depression, anxiety, and OCD. We had to mess with dosage a bit, but found the sweet spot pretty quickly.
My therapist had retired at the end of December. I began seeing someone new in January, though by April I turned to healing and spiritual guides, with the ability to reach out to counselors, handily in my toolbox.
I took January, February, and March to heal. Finances were tight without my income. We were grateful extended family helped a bit with finances. Lurking in my mind was the pressure for me to return to work by the end of March. I wasn’t sure how I’d do it. I wasn’t sure how bad my OCD would be when I returned. What if I found a band-aid on the floor? What if sharing equipment freaked me out? What if, what if, what if.
I worked on updating my resume, taking advantage of our public library’s service for free resume help. I worked on my memoir. I updated my Linkedin. I created a writing portfolio on my clippings.me account and wrote a little article about it.
Writing my memoir was freeing. I was drawn to the page day after day after day after day. The more I wrote of the memoir, the more I felt a release of pain.
March, 2020
Mid-March — After naively shaking my head at my psychiatrist’s office when asked a series of Covid-related questions earlier in March and having not heard of the virus until that very day, Covid19 came to Tulsa in a visceral way. March 13th marked the beginning of our month’s long interaction with pandemic times. The kids’ spring break was extended by the district while decisions were made. They ended up finishing school out virtually.
Life slowed way, way down. I’m not complaining.
April, 2020
I started feeling better. I began eating healthier foods, after processing the stages of guilt with the major cuts of treats I love — dairy, gluten, red meat, fat, carbonated beverages, sugar, caffeine, acidic food, spicy food. At first, I was devastated. Slowly, I learned a new way of eating. It’s not perfect, but it’s better.
I enrolled in online Earth Divinity School, joined a virtual writer’s group, and began writing on Medium. The more I healed, the more opportunities came into my life. It felt like things were looking up. Because of Covid, the pressure to find a job by the end of March was lifted. Instead, I focused on growing my writing presence publicly.
April-November, 2020
This is where I will take the opportunity to shout from the imaginary rooftop the successes for which I’m most proud this year.
Number 1 — Surviving and staying strong, for my family, and then for myself.
In the world of writing, I took a chance and began writing on Medium, got jobs on Upwork, edited Bingz Huang’s book of poetry, From the Womb of Gentleness. I started the Age of Empathy publication in July. I finished writing my memoir. In November, I realized my memoir wasn’t finished and went back to writing my memoir.
I guested on a podcast, read a poem for a podcast, and was interviewed by Bingz Huang for her Gentleness Ambassadors publication. I got to chat with Michael Burg, MD about setting up his publication. I got to edit for MuddyUm and Genius in a Bottle. I got a lot of writing and networking experience. And, I got to help support other writers in their endeavors.
I made friends all over the world. Special shout-out to Melissa Bee and Shanna Loga. I feel like we could sit together and talk for hours. There are many more people who I’ve met who I feel this way about. That’s one thing I love about our virtually connected world.
I learned some SEO and that I find it tedious and boring and took on a couple copywriting jobs for the first time.
We added a puppy to our family.
Goodbye and hello
What felt like a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad end to 2019 and beginning to 2020 turned out to be a blessing of a year. I gingerly picked the shrapnel of my heart from my bones, with the support of family and friends.
There’s beauty and strength in something broken and mended. I feel that deep within myself. I walked through the pain and found love.
I walked through the pain and found words. I walked through the pain and found courage. I walked through the pain and found my calling to share my voice and lead.
The last two years have been profoundly life-changing for me. I am proud of living through and surviving 2020. I am proud of my family and friends. I’m proud of all of us for doing our best day to day. The end of the year doesn’t feel so much like an end as it does a beginning.
The ray of sunlight I felt was a sign of hope a few years ago has begun shining more brightly. I feel ready to open the gate to 2021 and find more of my life’s purposes illuminated. It’s only in bits and pieces that I’m meant to see the puzzle of my life and I’ve come to be at peace with this.
2020 has been a pivotal year, a meaningful year, a year for which I am thankful. To 2021, I will be rested and ready, standing at the gate, ready for what comes, to let in another small piece of the big picture, with a confident, “Hello.”
