What’s the lesson here?

I was freaking out.  Panic attacks.  Worried.  Upset.  Irritable.

I tried to share how I was feeling on a call.  It didn’t help.  All it did was make me feel like more of a jerk. Everyone else was happy and I felt like a nut case.

I went to the town pool.  It was hot.  I got in the pool to cool off and then put on my meditation app.  It didn’t help.  My throat hurt.  I felt like I was choking.  It felt like I couldn’t breathe.

“Save me,” I yelled but inside my head.  “Somebody help me.  I’m suffocating.”

Well, maybe not exactly like that, but it reminded me of my birthing story.  I was born with the chord around my neck.  I literally couldn’t get out myself.  I would have died if the doctor hadn’t used the forceps to pull me out.

I was born blue.  So, it was a close one.

And, sometimes when I have a panic attack it feels like I am incapable of “getting out” on my own.  I need help.  I need to be saved.

I went home (to my mother’s house) and fought with my mom.  A bad, screaming fight.  I felt terrible.  She is 87 and a new widow and I am fighting with her?  How bad of a person am I?  What is wrong with me?  I should be shot.

I laid on my bed and tried to breathe.  I was holding my chest.  I felt like it would probably be better if I just died.  I am a useful, horrible person.

I tried to relax, sleep or anything to release the pressure from my chest.

That night I had to go to a work dinner.  I was taking my daughter.  We got ready and drove to the restaurant.  I ordered a drink.  One of my new agents was there and I started focusing on welcoming her.  I started talking to some other people.  Without even realizing it, the bad feeling disappeared.  I pretty much just forgot about it.

The next day at the gym my work out buddy was there.  I was telling him about my anxiety.

“Well, you obviously aren’t doing very well if you are so worried,” he said.

“But I am.  I am doing great.  I am just worried about hitting my numbers because I get an even bigger bonus.  That’s what I am worried about.”

And we had a great conversation.  He told me that he had never felt the way he felt for me with anyone else.  I don’t know where that came from, but I liked it.  That’s what I’ve been telling him about how I felt.  And even though we aren’t together anymore, I felt better knowing that at least I wasn’t feeling that way alone.

I started getting happy.  I waited for him to come out of the locker rooms.

“Don’t fuck with me if you don’t mean it,” I told him.  “Don’t give me hope if this is just a mood swing.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” he said, looking at me with those eyes.  “There is hope.”

Can I trust him?  I don’t know.  But I know it made me happy.  And I felt good, despite my attempts to move on.   Really good.  And, wary at the same time.

I remembered my coach saying “expect miracles” on the call yesterday.  And hearing that stuff from him was a miracle.  And realizing that I was stressed out about the size of my bonus, and that I am actually doing well, was also miracle.

And then things started turning around at work.  It was amazing.

I couldn’t believe the difference a day made.  We booked 5 appointments and ran a few.  I sold a policy.  My agents were all reporting that they were also booking appointments and enrollments.  After a long dry spell for all of us, that was a miracle.

Sure, there are things I am worried about.  But, I don’t feel like I’m having a heart attack anymore.  And, life looks good again.

So what’s the lesson?  Good question.  I guess that bad feelings are not permanent.  I can know that tomorrow, everything can turn around.  Life can look good again.  And, most importantly, I can remember to expect miracles.

And then, I will actually see them.