So...what actually happend? Part Three.

This post, as well as most of my mental health posts can be triggering.

I have spoken to a plethora of mental health and medical professionals since all of this went down in September. Each time I tell my story, the professional I am sharing it with is fascinated by the details. The part that fascinates them the most? The notes I took. I don’t recall the writing and the typing, but it’s there, clear as day. What I find to be the most interesting about this is that I did not censor what I was writing to myself, which I have done for my entire life.

Excerpts from my mental minute notes, which I lovingly refer to as my psychotic ramblings:

What’s the difference between a mental breakdown, a mental time out, funk or true depression? How do you come out of it? Each day for a few weeks, I have woken up hopeful that I won’t feel the dread that lies on top of my body and tries to suffocate me and yet...every day, there it is. Waiting for me to try to be human. Waiting for me to parent, get up and get ready for yoga or work – creeping up my body like a chill. Settling into my chest and torso and taking over every single thought – like a scaly, bony hand creeping up my spine and curving over my skull, holding my brain in its palm. Filling my head with only doubt, regret, sadness, anger, and the deepest self-loathing I have ever experienced.

Why is this happening now? Why am I battling the battle of real and not real right now? Why can’t I brush my teeth or take a shower? Why can’t I make one simple decision? Where is my strength? I am the strongest person that I know. I pride myself on being strong – things rattle me for sure, but not like this. I have had depressive episodes but not like this. I can feel this in every muscle, every fiber of my being. I have cancelled every commitment I've had this week, including work, parenting, and yoga. I cancelled all my classes and took the week off work. I don’t know what to do. I’m scared.

To heal from the chaotic stress of burnout I lived before my mental minute, I had to accept that the mental minute happened in the first place. I had to accept that something significant happened outside of my control because of my attempt to gain control. My therapist helped me accept this by comparing my dissociative episode to a heart attack. Chest discomfort could precede a heart attack and go unrecognized until the next thing you remember is waking up in the hospital attached to monitors. The warning signs of burnout were all present but I thought I had it all under control, until I didn’t.

When my bloodwork came back normal, my therapist said what I knew was coming but had been dreading… “it would benefit your mental health greatly if you took a leave from work”.

My notes clearly indicate that I was perseverating about work. I took incredibly pride in the excellent job that I did do while there and having that not be accessible felt like a part of me was no longer within reach.

The time had come when I needed to tell my boss (the Chief of Police) what was happening; I could not get through the phone call. I needed help in every aspect of my life. Every time I opened my mouth, unintelligible words and tears came flooding out. I had zero ability to censor or hide my emotions. I do remember in talking with the Chief about needing a leave of absence, feeling the grief of my parents’ death, the reality of Max’s health, the massive amount of responsibility I was carrying alone, all sitting on top of my chest…so…much…pressure. I felt every ounce of it. In a moment when I needed grace, safety, understanding and love, he provided all of it. He encouraged me to take my time and made it very clear that he was available for anything I might need.

My leave from work was extended and extended again, unpaid as it goes when you are on FMLA leave from a municipality.  After multiple, grueling conversations with my family and therapist, I made the decision to leave the police department.

Walking away from dispatching would mean leaving a culture I understood, a home I built and the people within it behind. Work friends are not always life friends, and I feared what life without them would look like on the other side. Who would I be if I was no longer a police dispatcher?

Just as a heart attack survivor would make drastic life changes after survival, I knew that I would never be able to appropriately heal my trauma while being exposed to life and death situations every day. I met with the Chief and told him that I would not be returning after my leave. I told him that my last day would be the anniversary of my hire date. He was incredibly supportive.

Could I continue to perform the duties required of me? Absolutely. However, I was being given the opportunity to live like I’ve never lived before. I was gifted with a second chance and that in and of itself is a miracle. I have new eyes, new ears and the most space in my heart. I finally received the invitation to participate in my own life. My calling is to support people in a different way. My calling is to be able to provide guidance, love, and comfort to a fellow human being, rather than be a temporary place holder for catastrophe.

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So, what now? Part Four

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So... what actually, happened? Part Two.