On the previous Friday, just as the school day ended, I wrapped up work at 3 pm. Amidst the rush of the school run, I found a moment to pause, only to be engulfed by an overwhelming sense of exhaustion and mental fog. It was as if a heavy blanket had been draped over me, suffocating my thoughts and leaving me utterly drained. Every movement felt like an immense effort; even lifting my arm seemed impossible. The exhaustion permeated through my bones, my mind, and my heart, weighing me down with an unbearable heaviness.
As I reluctantly packed up my belongings and headed towards my car, a wave of panic washed over me. I realized I had planned to attend both a workplace end-of-week gathering and a birthday celebration with friends at a local wine bar, but the mere thought of socializing felt daunting. How could I summon the energy when I couldn't muster a single coherent thought? Concerns about my ability to drive only added to my anxiety.
Summoning every ounce of strength, I made my way to the bakery and then to the pub for the work event, finding a brief respite with my husband before the festivities began. Normally the life of the party, I struggled to engage in conversation, feeling increasingly numb with each passing moment. The realization hit me that I couldn't possibly make it to my anticipated birthday drinks with friends. It was a stark departure from my usual resilience; canceling plans was never my style.
The following morning, despite plans for a beach outing—a favorite pastime—I found myself overwhelmed with an uncharacteristic desire to retreat into solitude. The fog in my mind had thickened, accompanied by a racing heart and a sense of being trapped by life's decisions. When my family sought answers and direction for our outing, my frustration erupted into anger—I couldn't bear the weight of decision-making any longer. In my rage I screamed “why do I always have to have all the answers?”
I got in the car and as we travelled, I felt both anxious and empty all at the same time. I kept having visions of a bird trapped in a cage. I felt so trapped. I felt like i was losing my mind. Over the next 2 days while with family, i grew increasingly absent and withdrew even more. I was doing an internal audit.. “Was this a depression bout? Was this burnout?, Was it hormones?” Then I remembered, for now, it doesn’t matter about the analytics, I needed to focus of the symptoms and feelings, as this was not a state I wanted to spend time in for too long.
Thankfully I still had a level of cognitive thought, and I was thankful for all of my wellbeing tools. I started engaging in breathwork, affirmations, and most importantly permission, so I cancelled the next birthday gathering I was hosting at my house with extended family, and I cancelled most of my next week and booked in a couple of wellbeing appointments. I rested and slowed and gave myself so much love with all the ways I fill my own cup.
It was a challenging time, unlike anything I had experienced before. But amidst the struggle, I realized the importance of recognizing my limits and prioritizing self-care, even if it meant deviating from my usual patterns of resilience and perseverance.
I ended up with a UTI and some kidney inflammation and thankfully some medication - a combination of chinese herbs and western medicine. Who knows what came first, the exhaustion or the bacteria that sent me a little batty. I feel there was many layers contributing. I also believe in the philosophy that every situation has a teachable moment. My first was “wowzers, is this the state that some people live in regularly?”
My heart expanded and again I am gifted a deeper level of compassion for those that have mental health clouds over their life. I recognize and am accountable for dropping the ball on my own health. I am grateful for the interest i have taken in myself and my own needs so i can help myself out of a state of dis-ease.
I feel like I’m back now and fighting fit. But this horse occasionally needs a saddle to bring in her exuberance.
Takeaway - sometimes determination is detrimental. Find your balance.
