So yesterday was a little scary.
As anyone who knows me knows, I am a panicky stress case. I’ve had a history of panic attacks and generalized anxiety since I was in high school. It’s gotten worse over the years, but most of the time, I deal with it okay.
My job is very stressful. I’m continually playing beat the clock and do whatever it takes to be indispensable so I don’t lost my job and fuck up not only my life, but my husband’s life as well.
So the anxiety has gotten worse, and along with it comes tightness in the chest. It’s pretty much constant when I’m at work. Yesterday, however, I started getting a weird ache down my left arm. Being the hypochondriac that I am, I googled that shit, and became very afraid that I was having a heart attack. I have histories of high blood pressure, heart attacks and heart disease in my family, so it’s not like this is completely out of the realm of possibility.
So, I head home from work, and tell Eric that I’m afraid I’m having a heart attack. We eventually end up at the ER. Where I remain for 5 hours. The folks there were really nice. I had an EKG done, I got chest x-rays, they took a urine sample and did 2 rounds of blood tests.
Everything came back perfectly fine. I have no blockages, none of my organs are failing. I have an appointment with my regular doctor tomorrow – I made it a few weeks ago since I knew I was taking the day off of work. I have to check in with her every so after because of the blood pressure meds I’m on, and she’s also an OBGYN, so…yeah, Happy Pap Smear to me! WOO! But, I might as well tell her about all that went down.
But, it looks like, most likely, I’m just a big ball of stress (duh), and that I had a doozy of a panic attack. Which is making me think about my work/life balance. Which sucks. And has for a while. Some people said I should tell my boss(es) about this. I haven’t yet. Because how the HELL do you bring this up without sounding weird, whiny and needy, you know? I’ve brought up the fact that the stress at my job has taken a toll on my health. And it helped, for a while. But eventually, more shit just gets piled on me. I’m going to have to start drawing lines.
Today, I got a 1 and a half hour lunch break and actually LEFT the office! I got a pedicure. It was awesome. Then I left work about about 415 and said, “BYE! I’m going to go start my birthday weekend now!”
Yeah, my birthday party, at you know where, is tomorrow night. My actually birthday is this coming Tuesday. It’s kinda freakin’ me out that I had this kinda-sorta-OMG health scare on the brink of my 37th birthday. Only a few people know about this – the hubz, of course. My family, and one friend. That’s it. Like, how the fuck do you bring it up to people…? You don’t, really. It’s not like it comes up in conversation. Otherwise, you just look like you’re fishing for attention and sympathy.
But the truth of the matter is that is scared the every living fuck out of me, and I’m still not feeling 100% relieved. A lot, but not 100%. And part of me feels like a fool for worrying so much. Panic attack, duh. It’s not like I haven’t been having these for 20 years. Stupid hypochondriac idiot.
So, I will do my best to keep all my worries inside, which will probably cause me more anxiety and stress…oh the endless cycle.