Today I Survived.

I think Portland is a prime place to live because of it’s geographic location.

We are an hour and a half from the spectacular Oregon coast with it’s sprawling beaches, jagged cliffs and primordial mossy forests. We are also just an hour and a half from the peak of our massive volcano, with it’s snowy hood and glacial formations that are accessible year round.

Today, we had a trip to the snow planned. Our church is full of somewhat adventurous people and outdoor activities are a regular part of the calendar. This annual event is planned that any family can join and we all meet at a specified location at the specified date and time for as long as it works for each individual family. Hubby had to work today, but I was determined not to let that stop us from fulfilling the White Christmas wishes of all my beloved children. 

Who knows what it was that triggered the beginning yesterday.

As I was putting the youngest to bed I felt that telltale tingle in my eye. A sharp tapping that signifies something is irritating my oh-so-sensitive system. As the swelling began, as it always does, my anxiety inflated as well. The cycling thoughts of “how bad this one might get” and “what could I have done to stop it” washed over me and sleep was pushed off to that dreamland place that it just beyond your reach and you cant quite grasp it. 

I got out of bed this morning when the littlest had come in to snuggle with me and we heard the whimpers of our Christmas puppy telling us she needed to be let out. My eye was still red and puffy but I wanted to be braver than my fears. I wanted to be stronger than my ailments. (Read more about that here) So I pressed on. We were still going to go to the snow, come hell or high water. As we were beginning to pack up my Dad called for his Christmas check in. After an hours video tour of our house and his we were finally in the car, a late start on our adventure. Tummies were feeling wonky, and the puppy had to potty, and the TRAFFIC! Attitudes were all still positive though and though the going was slow, we forged on. We won the battle of the tire chains through skill daring and resourcefulness and we made it, an hour after our friends were due to leave, to the parking lot of the snow park.

A delightful 45 minutes later the cold was seeping in to the crevices and it was time to begin our journey home. One family of friends had stayed beyond the allotted time with us and offered their advice on the journey back. They would be traveling the long way around the mountain, as the traffic was typically better so they would actually be MOVING while they were in the car. I considered it briefly but decided to give the straight shot a go. After a few minutes delay in the parking lot as chains met their match with the snow and a beefy suburban with a toe rope came to the rescue we joined the throngs of families headed back down the mountain. 

I felt it first in my chest. A heavy pressure that said “hey- pay attention to me”

And my heart began thumping. And sweat was beading up on my forehead. The shaking in my hands increasing so that holding on to the steering wheel became challenging. PANIC. 

I raged against myself forcing myself to hold it together. There was a guttural scream building inside me as every thought in my head became a terrible “what if” and my fingers itched to dial 9-1-1 on my phone. I needed help. NOW. I prayed my texts would get to their destination as I sent out flares for prayers. 

Then it happened.

The van in front of me turned around. It appeared that they had decided the long way round looked more appealing than sitting in a cue of cars with the map directing you home increasing in time instead of counting down. I had to go too. I had to do something other than what I was currently doing. So, in the dark, on a mountain covered in ice, in the middle of a panic attack I turned on to a road I had never been on before. Knowing full well it could have been a recipe for disaster I decided to go. As my children’s confused questions began breaking through I chose a new path for us. Instead of sullying this adventure with lights and sirens, I would ask for help. I told them what was happening inside of me. I told them I was working though it, but I needed help. 

As I drove through the night I had them talk to me.

Tell me stories and retell movies and engage my mind in something other than anxiety. Valiantly they prattled on and encouraged me, and allowed me to breathe. We fought the other end of the tire chain battle and tossed them carelessly in the trunk of the car when they finally gave up their hold on the tires. We raced through the dark with that monkey clinging to my back but my warriors surrounding me. The youngest had fallen asleep so her worries were not compiled on top of mine as her questions often do. We slowly saw the lights of the first city twinkle into view and it seemed that hope was there on the horizon. As we entered the town I checked my GPS for the hospital. When I am in panic mode, that is the place that feels safest as I don’t know what my body is going to do. 

I navigated the car along those unfamiliar roads until the bright red beacon hit my eyes. “Emergency entrance” it read. I took a breath, and drove right past. I was going to try. I was going to fight, because I had helpers already. Instead I found a place for us to sit, the kids to eat and me to calm my racing heart. 

Once we were all seated, warm enough for the moment, with food on the table in front of us, the kids began to dig in. My eldest stopped. He took a breath of his own, and started praying. Spilling out the gratitude for our protection and the thankfulness for being together. Praying for me to continue being stronger than my fear. I grabbed his arm and squeezed him in my own overflow of gratitude. WE were going to make it.

The rest of the trip was tough, but we managed it. We got over the hump together and we fought back the deamons at our heals. Crawling out of the car into our warm home felt like a triumphant victory. 

Hard days come, friends. But they also GO. I cant control my anxiety, but today, I didn’t let it control ME.