Atlas

Looks heavy right? I imagine it sucks being a Greek God carrying the world on your shoulders. And not even having a pair of pants. :)

I've had a difficult week. The panic hit on Wednesday. And it hasn't gone away. Four days in I finally decide to take an Ativan. I let it go too long this time though and it's not even working. 

I saw my therapist yesterday. I was cranky. Not only have I been having constant panic attacks, I haven't been sleeping. I was late for work because I was throwing up at home, a delightful by-product of the most awful panic attacks, had a lunch meeting and then had to leave early to make this appointment. 

Him: You're pissed you have to be here. 

Me: I have work to do. 

Him: What's wrong Margaux?

Truth is, nothing's wrong. Work is great. I'm actually taking on some new projects and responsibilities that I'm excited about, working more closely in Communications which I'm passionate about. I'm dating a nice guy. My secret life friend is back in town and that just makes my little group of friends that much more special. 

Him: I'm not sure if it's a good idea for you to work more. And why can't you just take a pill?  And...what's wrong?

Hmmmm. I hate taking pills - it makes me feel like I'm not strong enough to handle this stuff on my own. Sullivan's are renowned for their pride issues. 

What's wrong? Well there has been some worry this past couple of months about my siblings and what each of them have been going through. I'm trying to help. 

Him: Why does it have to be you who does that?

Seriously? Mom off in Panama, Dad in PEI and even if they were in town, this would still be my responsibility. I feel like it always has been. I love my parents, but mom wasn't very um...maternal. Dad wasn't really around. And since we've been in Toronto I just feel like my siblings have always felt that I'm where they go for "home". 

Problem is, that's where the line ends. 

Also, I'm doing this big event at work where I tell my story to raise awareness for Mental Health week. 

Him: You don't have to do that either. 

He doesn't understand. I do. That's why I write this blog. That's why I did an interview with a big magazine. I need to help people. Especially people like me. 

Him: I'll tell you something that someone told me once when I was in therapy. I wanted to be a therapist and they said that I would be no good to anyone else if I didn't take care of myself first. 

It feels selfish right? But it makes sense. That's why if the plane is going to crash you're supposed to put on your own oxygen mask before helping someone else get theirs on. If you're passed out, you can't help them. 

I don't know where the constant pressure has always come from to take care of everyone else around me. Probably started with the family, got worse the longer I stayed JW. I just know it's always been there and if I try to ignore it, if I try to say no, it yells at me, loudly, until I listen to it. 

Him: Who takes care of you? Where do you go to feel safe?

There is no answer to that question. All I know is I've tried carrying the weight of the world, but I only have two hands. What I really want to focus on now is my career, my writing, my personal peace of mind. And I can't do that with all the panic, the insomnia, the anxiety. 

I guess I'll have to make some hard choices. In the meantime, I'll go to yoga.