Friday morning as I sat in an armchair my hands were shaking, legs trembling and my breaths coming in rapid succession. I could feel the room closing in, sounds became louder, the lack of oxygen making my heart pound faster, my skin felt too tight and the tears threatened to spill. All this going on whilst I’m attempting to be “happy mummy”, cajoling the children in to thinking everything is okay and that mummy isn’t about to break down.
This is my prelude to a mild panic attack.
They don’t come as often, thank goodness, but this morning was a doozy.
I’ve always been honest about my mental health, which might be why I hopped on Instagram, a problem shared and all…
And whilst many people may not understand those of us who air our ‘dirty laundry’ for all to see, once again I was overwhelmed and full of gratitude for the response I got. The sense that I’m not alone calmed me enough that I was able to send the children off to school with a smile and make my way to my appointment without having a full on breakdown.
Once my difficult morning was over the relief I felt at walking through the front door and being able to close the world away was like a weight being lifted off my shoulders, there are few things worse than a full on breakdown in public, the safety of home is never anything to be taken for granted.
With my heart still pounding and my hands still full of tremors there was little chance of me doing much of anything, however just being home and having a faff about in peace and quiet was exactly what I needed.
As much as I love the world out there, sometimes the only place I need to be, is home.