Release— I refuse to call it anything else!

Vulnerable post - aka some may call a “journal entry” 

If you’re not into “that” keep scrolling. This post isn’t for you.

I have deleted this post twice now—posted with unknown truth the first time (then reality hit and I shamefully deleted it), posted with vagueness the second time (and deleted today, so I can be honest with myself). Today, I post the truth, even though the truth feels like defeat, fear, and more emotion than I feel I can handle. But as a writer, the words release me.

Monday evening I experienced an - anxiety attack. Have I used these words before - anxiety attack - YES, but this time it manifested physical reactions in my body that scared myself and my family. 

Last week, I woke up at 2 am—sweating, heart racing, afraid, and recognized I was having an “anxiety attack”. I was sound asleep until this happened. I have experienced this a handful of times before and I have become pretty good at calming myself down slowly so I can go back to sleep. I use an “anxiety attack” as I wasn’t sure what label to place on it to describe what I was experiencing to others.

Monday morning I had a hard time concentrating, not only to sit at my computer and work, but my meditations the few days prior had been difficult (occasionally common for me, but not typical). I voiced this to my husband, “I can’t seem to settle down.” Eventually, I did, enough to work but not meditate. If you know me, this is unusual. I meditate daily for 15 min or more. 

Monday evening, my youngest son and I were cleaning out the pantry. I wasn’t frustrated with the pantry, as most of my random cleaning projects start, out of rage that everything feels disorganized. Lol We were simply talking about items in the pantry and it became a game. This is when IT all started and for some privacy (haha, ironic I know), I’m going to spare you and myself the details of what played out the rest of the evening. 

The experience scared me enough to see the doctor on Tuesday - actually, no the massive cold sore I woke up to is what got my feet out the door (Valtrex is that powerful)! Even to this point, I was ashamed. I felt horrible for ruining my family’s night. My husband missed a commitment, a commitment he looks forward to every year. I scared him and my two sons. The self-loathing began seconds after it all began and before I knew it would be labeled as an - anxiety attack. 

Every sign pointed right to it - anxiety attack - and yet when the doctor said it out loud, I cried. I cried for my trauma brain, that has been through the wringer. I felt defeated, shameful, embarrassed (so damn embarrassed), and alone. 

I work hard to meditate, practice yoga, surround myself with healing crystals, and fill my body with healthy foods. I do all of this to keep a healthy brain, a sound mind, a relaxed state, and peace in my home (my inside home and my material home). I have had eyes rolled at me, labels placed on me, I’ve been told “You’ve changed” and so many questions asked as to why I am now “this person” —as I did not do these things a few years back.

But on Monday Anxiety didn’t care how much work I had done. It didn’t care that I had set healthy routines for myself. It didn’t care that I was enjoying a fun evening with my family. The stress (even simple living stress), the trauma, and everything this brain of mine has been trying to process came to a peak and released through my body creating physical symptoms. 

So, how do I feel now? 

Like a walking time bomb! That at any moment this could happen again. Yes, I was experiencing these so-called -anxiety attacks - in the middle of the night, but I am alone at night, I’m not out in the open for people to see. I walk myself and talk myself away from them. This... this was much bigger and more people were a part of it. AND it now has this big, fat, society tainted label that I can’t remove. 

People have reached out to see how I am, to see what the doctor said, and as the words leave my lips I feel sheepish. 

I feel silly. I feel small. My skin doesn’t feel like mine. 

My head is still not “relaxed”. My meditations are difficult. I have parties to attend, gifts to wrap, dance recitals to cheer at, love to give, and light to offer, but now this body feels foreign. 

In a rage, I want to throw everything out the window all the “juju” I have been mocked for using. I want to be angry with my body, with myself, with life! But… I know better. I know the greatest lesson I can have is learning how to find that same stillness and peace I have been fortunate to feel in a state of trauma. That… that is the true test.

My frustration is directed at society as a whole, at us as human beings. When did we put such a stigma behind common diagnosis? When did anxiety, depression, grief, and suicide become so deeply attached to shame? Who put it there? Who decided it’s okay to clean your teeth every six months, but don’t you dare say you check in with a therapist twice a year?

Why am I afraid to post this and share it with all of you, when I KNOW, there are millions who have experienced the same? 

I can tell you this, I am DONE hiding behind vague posts. The truth is, I have been through A LOT in my life and it is actually more UNCOMMON if I wasn’t having symptoms such as an - anxiety attack! 

I’m also no longer calling it this tainted and misunderstood label - to me, it was a - Release. 

release[ ri-lees ] to free from confinement, bondage, obligation, pain, etc.; let go:

A Release of emotion, trauma, toxins, pain, and everything my body needs to rid itself from. A Release that on my own, I can not do, so my body will purge whenever it feels necessary. And NOW, now I have the tools I need to allow it to Release in a positive and fearless way. 

I’m going to do my best to cut the chords of embarrassment- it’s not easy! Our society has done such a great job and making this Release something to feel ashamed of, but I know better than to follow the norm (since when did I start doing that?). 

To all of you who have reached out with loving messages of concern, messages of encouragement, reminders of light, fellow Release masters, thank you! Thank you for seeing me. Thank you for believing in me. Thank you for reminding me that NO label has enough value to make me question who and what I am.