Crazy how just making an appointment can make your shoulders feel lighter.
I found out through an unfortunate episode of panic that led me to the ER last week that I have stage two hypertension…because of course I do 🙄. It’s not like my body’s been in a heightened state of stress for at least the past several years, if not longer.
So, my still up there anxiety calmed enough this morning for me to call and set up an appointment for managing it. But to hear my preferred facility doesn’t take my insurance anymore and my backup primary care center doesn’t have any openings until December burst my little bubble of “dammit, I’m trying to do the right thing here”.
Option three…my gosh, was the receptionist a sweetheart. So soft spoken and compassionate in her delivery and she got me in this week, which made me want to hug her over the phone. Such a big win for this little engine that could but keeps encountering obstacles on the tracks.
I’m trying everything in my power to make the most of what I feel is a second chance at this thing called Life.
No more putting the difficult stuff off simply because it’ll upset my rhythm too much. No more denying anything’s wrong because my ticked off body and mind clearly won’t let me, which is fine. No more living my life according to my dad’s philosophy of “nothing is wrong with you until you go to the doctor”, not when living by it took him out at 63 when he had so much more life to live. No more repeating the pattern that sets me up for living a life of fear and avoidance mixed with unhealthy coping mechanisms that I so badly want to break free from.
I have to rewrite the story because it’s mine to write and I owe it to my dad to not let his journey that was cut too short infect mine just because it’s what was familiar to me. And maybe, just maybe the avoidance will stop here, in turn influencing the stories of those beautiful three little branches that spurred from my own on the family tree. Maybe the confidence and self-love will be that powerful. …maybe.
So, my still up there anxiety calmed enough this morning for me to call and set up an appointment for managing it. But to hear my preferred facility doesn’t take my insurance anymore and my backup primary care center doesn’t have any openings until December burst my little bubble of “dammit, I’m trying to do the right thing here”.
Option three…my gosh, was the receptionist a sweetheart. So soft spoken and compassionate in her delivery and she got me in this week, which made me want to hug her over the phone. Such a big win for this little engine that could but keeps encountering obstacles on the tracks.
I’m trying everything in my power to make the most of what I feel is a second chance at this thing called Life.
No more putting the difficult stuff off simply because it’ll upset my rhythm too much. No more denying anything’s wrong because my ticked off body and mind clearly won’t let me, which is fine. No more living my life according to my dad’s philosophy of “nothing is wrong with you until you go to the doctor”, not when living by it took him out at 63 when he had so much more life to live. No more repeating the pattern that sets me up for living a life of fear and avoidance mixed with unhealthy coping mechanisms that I so badly want to break free from.
I have to rewrite the story because it’s mine to write and I owe it to my dad to not let his journey that was cut too short infect mine just because it’s what was familiar to me. And maybe, just maybe the avoidance will stop here, in turn influencing the stories of those beautiful three little branches that spurred from my own on the family tree. Maybe the confidence and self-love will be that powerful. …maybe.
46-50, F
