I've oft likened my journey over the past 18 months unto that of a roller coaster. For several weeks in a row I felt like I was coasting on an endless low point. I was having almost the same amount of panic attacks as I did on the mission. (Fun fact: I deal with them much quicker and more effectively than I did then.) But I was in a constant schlump, punctuated by despair and panic. Not the ish. Not at all.
Something had to give.
It became apparent that I needed to make a change. As far as I could tell, there were two choices:
1. Get back on psych meds
2. Start working out consistently again
I was not jazzed. Don't get me wrong, for some humans, their "small and simple thing that makes great things come to pass" is a bottle of pills prescribed by someone who knows their ish. But I went that route for 8 months and all I got was horrible side effects that made my life harder.
So Mr. T and I decided that I should try to improve my self-care first and see if that made a difference.
DID IT EVER.
After only a week and a half of exercising for 30 minutes a day to the point of sweating (that part is crucial) 5 times a week, I went from several panic attacks a day to a few a week.
HUZZAH!!!
Now whether or not this change can be attributed to the physiological effects of exercise or the effects of making and keeping a commitment to myself, I'm not sure. Probably a combination of both.
Change is a funny thing. It comes fast, slow, suddenly, over time...but it always comes.
That used to terrify me.
Now it gives me hope.
