This morning in the throes of grief, I apparently tipped myself into panic attack mode. I found myself swapping between three self care modes - I wanted to nap, I felt like I should eat, I should keep moving, but my stomach hurt and I had so much anxiety and yet I was so sleepy.
I have the survivor's instinct. I wrote about it. In so doing I realized how bad it'd gotten. I reached out for help from a local friend. I feel like I'm using up the goodwill of my local friends, but this was definitely a "call in the cavalry" moment. She told me simply: "Take a shower. Right now. Get dressed and message me when you're done."
That worked. Having an external voice got me out of the whirl of miserable not-coping. We had lunch. I cried in a corner a lot. We walked around to a bookshop. I began to feel better.
I don't know what's going on with me anymore. That's the first time I've had adrenaline-drop symptoms after crying, and I hope it's the last. I know numbness isn't necessarily a great coping mechanism, but it's a hell of a lot better than this was.
I took the thermarest I was going to use backpacking this weekend and went to the park with a book and a soda and some cheese. Eventually I took a nap in the sun. I think that helped.
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