Its finally happened - I have reached my breaking point. My allergist and my general physician who replaced my brilliant long time general physician (he retired) both misdiagnosed me with asthma and prescribed inhalers, capsules, nose sprays, eye drops in increasing dosage as I did not seem to get better. Five months of taking strong medicines that you do not really need, has taken a toll on my body. Add to it, the building up stress from a long commute and a stressful job - I am talking about nine hours of being in back to back to back meetings all day every week; I cannot remember the last time I actually ate lunch in peace, it is mostly always with someone talking to me, or me being on a conference call or in an actual meeting or sometimes standing in someone's cube while eating my soup. Add to it the normal stress that comes with raising two young girls, running your own household with no support system and trying to make time for your relationship. And then why don't we also lather on a healthy dose of in law discontent and complaints.
I felt it coming, I reached out to everyone. I told my best friends, my husband, whoever would listen. I am tired, I am breaking. As luck would have it, one bff completely broke off communication - we are all in the same boat busy with work, home and kids and she has a very demanding job but she did not speak to me for weeks. Did not pick up my phone, did not call me back, did not want to talk. I lost a part of my familiar support structure.
Soon I did not want to talk anymore. Coming home and going to bed became a pattern and the guilt built up. Guilt of P having to parent on his own. Guilt of not having the patience to play with the girls or even read to them.
I am broken. It is very scary, this place that I have reached. I feel every emotion magnified, every sad thing hurts a thousand times more than it should, every worry causes hundredfold distress than it should. And the guilt is always there and overwhelming. And the tears are always there, ready to roll down. The girls watch TV all morning, I am filled with guilt but I also do not have the patience to sit down and play; I would rather finish some other chore out. And then it turns into fatigue and I want to go lay down, feeling failure at not being a good parent.
I went to India for a week and was surrounded, engulfed, tightly held in this warm, safe embrace of love. London Bff and India Bff, my parents, my cousins, my grandfather all held me and showered generous compliments, assurances and memories of the positive smiling strong person they always knew. I met my London bff after years and he hugged me tight every time we met, and every time I healed a bit. I am tired.
But I still do have a faint recollection of the person I was, I am and need to get back to. So I am slowly taking baby steps - finding an experienced general physician who was the first one to say that I might be depressed. He has ordered a plethora of blood work on me and I am waiting for next steps. I asked for three days work from home to relieve myself of the commute stress. I turned my back on a promotion and the prospect of a huge team and accepted a lateral move, with no direct reports promising better work life balance and calm. I cannot be this person I have become. I need to return.
As I start my journey of healing myself, I also need to forgive. Forgive friends for not being there. Forgive myself for not being there. Forgive in laws for harsh words said. And move on....Slowly but surely I need to return.
I felt it coming, I reached out to everyone. I told my best friends, my husband, whoever would listen. I am tired, I am breaking. As luck would have it, one bff completely broke off communication - we are all in the same boat busy with work, home and kids and she has a very demanding job but she did not speak to me for weeks. Did not pick up my phone, did not call me back, did not want to talk. I lost a part of my familiar support structure.
Soon I did not want to talk anymore. Coming home and going to bed became a pattern and the guilt built up. Guilt of P having to parent on his own. Guilt of not having the patience to play with the girls or even read to them.
I am broken. It is very scary, this place that I have reached. I feel every emotion magnified, every sad thing hurts a thousand times more than it should, every worry causes hundredfold distress than it should. And the guilt is always there and overwhelming. And the tears are always there, ready to roll down. The girls watch TV all morning, I am filled with guilt but I also do not have the patience to sit down and play; I would rather finish some other chore out. And then it turns into fatigue and I want to go lay down, feeling failure at not being a good parent.
I went to India for a week and was surrounded, engulfed, tightly held in this warm, safe embrace of love. London Bff and India Bff, my parents, my cousins, my grandfather all held me and showered generous compliments, assurances and memories of the positive smiling strong person they always knew. I met my London bff after years and he hugged me tight every time we met, and every time I healed a bit. I am tired.
But I still do have a faint recollection of the person I was, I am and need to get back to. So I am slowly taking baby steps - finding an experienced general physician who was the first one to say that I might be depressed. He has ordered a plethora of blood work on me and I am waiting for next steps. I asked for three days work from home to relieve myself of the commute stress. I turned my back on a promotion and the prospect of a huge team and accepted a lateral move, with no direct reports promising better work life balance and calm. I cannot be this person I have become. I need to return.
As I start my journey of healing myself, I also need to forgive. Forgive friends for not being there. Forgive myself for not being there. Forgive in laws for harsh words said. And move on....Slowly but surely I need to return.
