***Potential Trigger Warning***
I previously shared the experience I had with being more open about my mental illness at work. You can read more about that here.
In February 2020, I was extremely grateful that I made that decision. I had created the connections that allowed me to be more open about how I was feeling, and it was life-saving.
Note: Keep in mind that throughout a lot of this, I was completely dissociated. I am writing this to the best of my memory with the help of others involved. If things seem choppy at times, it is due to that.
I decided it would be best to take a mental health day off of work and try to get back to feeling like myself. I figured it was just carry over from the weekend and after a few days I would start feeling better. That’s how it tends to work. What I didn’t realize at the time was that one day wasn’t going to be enough. I needed to slow way down, but I didn’t do that.
I was crying for no reason (that I could think of) and was feeling trapped, hopeless, and panicky. When I took my lunch break, I decided to go to the park and sit for a while to try to clear my head and shake the feeling of being trapped. That didn’t work. I knew something was off but was still maintaining that I would feel better.
I remember wanting to go home, wanting the storm in my mind to quiet, and wanting some restful sleep. I was starting to get desperate. I figured I would take some Xanax that night to help me sleep, but instead, I found myself Googling how much Xanax it would take to overdose. My brain kept throwing different ways at me that I could end it. It was terrifying.
February 12th was when it all came crashing down rather quickly. It was obvious that my mental illness was trying to take me down. All rationality in my brain was absolutely gone. I was just along for the ride.
At around 8 in the morning, the walls fell in. Anxiety decided to join the party and add to the chaos in my mind. On top of being upset about how I was feeling, I was now in a panic about how I was feeling as well.
By 09:30, I was making statements about taking me to the hospital just so I could sleep. I was starting to fall apart. I asked my dad for help approaching the topic with my boss. He told me to come over to his office, and I did. I was in tears as soon as I walked in. I couldn’t keep myself together.
He called our HR manager and asked her to come upstairs. After she got there, the door closed, and decisions were being made as I continued to cry inconsolably and in desperation for what I was feeling to stop. I fought on going to the hospital because as reasonable as it sounded at the time for me to get rest, I was afraid of what the consequences would be.
Phone calls and decisions were also made. I was going to the hospital. They packed my things up, and off we went.
I just wanted to go home and lay down. I kept crying, and couldn’t seem to get it under control. I was told going home and being by myself wasn’t an option. At the time, I didn’t agree with that, but now I believe it was a good decision.
The ride to the hospital, I remember crying the entire trip and begging not to go. I didn’t want to go, I felt an obligation to my job, I felt an obligation to my pup that was at home, and an obligation to pretty much everything in my life. Everything except taking care of myself.
When we arrived in the emergency room parking lot, I was doing everything in my power to avoid getting out. I was still begging and pleading to be able to just go home. After much coaxing, I went inside very reluctantly.
Episode Two has been posted!