I am sitting here today counting the hours until I have someone coming home. Nic will be here in just about 2 and 1/2 hours. I think I can make it. I have made dinner in the crock pot, put dessert in the fridge, taken the dog out numerous times, as well as three walks, paced the floors, done laundry, paced some more, breathed deeply again and again (just trying to take a deep breath is almost impossible), and still found myself curled up on the couch in the fetal position willing myself to hang on. My heart has been praying all day and I still can't take a breath.
I used to think at the beginning of each year, I want to lose weight and get into shape. Now, I think I want to breathe without pain. I want a day without pure and total terror -- panic. I miss my cat. I love my dog, but she doesn't have the same comforting way about her. I used to be able to pull my Cheeto on my lap and could physically feel my blood pressure go down and I could breathe again.
I don't want to freak anyone out -- I'm okay. I'm not going to hurt myself. I don't think I could hurt anymore than I am right now. I will be here today and the next day and the next . . . Pardon me if sometimes that sounds insurmountable.
I love my family. They try so hard to understand and be helpful. I wish I knew what to tell them, you know, how they could help me but I don't know myself. I can't even help myself.
I'll just keep praying and breathing and soon my sweet son and husband will be home. That will help. This blog helps -- writing what I feel, getting some of the poisonous thoughts and feelings out, helps.
Wow, right now I can breathe . . .
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