Wonder Woman Had a Panic Attack

I had a panic attack today...

and on social media I am posting pictures about dogs.

There is a disconnect here. A disconnect that I even commented on via text with my husband. My husband always sees the real me. Not the me I put on, like a mask or a party dress, when I am in the "real world," or post on social media. He sees the tears, the fury, the frustration, the self pity. He also sees the musical numbers, the silly voices, and the corny jokes. He sees it all. From Beauty to the Beast, they are all there, the whole spectrum, all a part of me, what makes Jenny, Jenny.

So, why the disconnect?

Ego? Probably.

So, here I am, telling the truth about my day now. Calling myself out on my bullsh*t. Taking off the mask and the party dress...

I had a panic attack today.

This morning, I had my first physical therapy appointment. This is something I have been putting off for three months. I told myself (the lies of) I have the kids home for the summer, when am I going to find time? I am already hurting so much, why would I want to hurt more? All excuses. I heard once, from a very wise mentor, "The moment you begin to use excuses is the exact moment you begin to lie to yourself." I believe that is the truth. Excuses are just as much of a lie as the glossed over, perfect image I found myself perpetuating on social media.

So, today, I threw away the excuses and went to my first PT appointment.

Nothing particularly exciting happened. Some stretches, a tour, mostly evaluation. Then it was over. My physical therapist, Meg, ushered me over to the scheduling desk, and I got out my calendar to schedule the next couple of weeks. My orders are for six weeks, three times a week, to include aqua therapy and massage, then another evaluation. Fine. It wasn't particularly pleasant, but not unpleasant. It just kinda was.

As the day progressed, and I finished the rest of my to dos (including my first mammogram... unpleasant) I noticed my back was pretty sore. It was driving home that it happened.

I started thinking about my back pain, and how it was worse today than it was yesterday.
I started thinking about how difficult it was going to be to fit in three PTs a week for the foreseeable future.
I started wondering how I was going to keep up with that, and still do all my other day to days.
I started wondering if I was going to be able to keep up with my day to days, and still keep up with the rest of my responsibilities.
All the while, my phone is making constant noise with texts, emails, and notifications for my volunteer work.

My breathing became shallow.
My face got hot.
My chest felt tight.
My hands started to sweat.
I was fighting back tears.

I had a panic attack today.

When I got home, I set in the car in the garage and cried. I texted my husband who sees all Jennys (or would it be Jennies?). I saw myself apologizing for my weakness. He of course stopped me in my tracks and told me basically never to apologize for that again. He validated my feelings, helped me to see that it is perfectly reasonable to feel overwhelmed. He told me how much he loved me, and how he wished he could take some of this for me. He's good like that. I am so grateful for him.

That's when it hit me, just how hard on myself I am. Yes, I was overwhelmed with the scheduling, the situation as a whole. But, if I am being real, it is also the realization that with this comes the very real possibility that something is going to give, one of the plates that I am perpetually spinning, might just... gasp... fall.

I cannot keep trying to be Wonder Woman. That position is already filled. I can only be Jenny. I can only stay in today. I can only do what is in front of me. That's it. Sometimes, I will fail. Sometimes, I will fall. Sometimes I will not be able to handle it all. Sometimes I will be scared, or weak, or stressed, or angry... and that is okay.

So, here I am... getting honest. I am throwing away my excuses. In trying to process what happened today, I am also trying to let go. Granted, I will probably keep sending my resume to fill the role of Wonder Woman, but maybe, MAYBE I will be able to be okay with Jenny too... or better yet, maybe someday I will also be okay with YOU seeing more than the Jenny I put out for social media. Not just sparkly, happy, together Jenny, but the Jenny who's crying in her car, or forgets that deadline, or serves leftovers for dinner (again), or hasn't vacuumed in a month. Maybe we can all let go of our manufactured "Social Media Selves." Maybe THAT can be the real Wonder Woman? Maybe in getting real we can see we are not alone. We can see that we all lose it, cry, get scared, have weakness... and when we show this, and see it in each other, that can be what gives us strength to be our real superhero selves. Yeah, I like that.

Well, world... Wonder Woman had a panic attack.
She cried.
She was scared.
She was weak.
And in that weakness, she found strength.