Taxed to the Max

Today was an awful day. It was more than awful; my poor health made it a horror of a day. Both mentally and physically, I was taxed to the max.

 

The clear memory of a terrible nightmare greeted me as my eyes opened to a new day. Nightmares, although they only plague me every now and then, leave me shattered mentally and shaky physically. I rose out of bed and went immediately to my couch, hugging myself in an attempt to eradicate the memories burning in my mind and soothe my aching body. “Fight or flight” mode hit my body however, and “flight” was the winner. Outwardly my skin became cold and clammy while inside my heart began beating irregularly and my breathing came in gasps and gulps.

 

I quickly realized I was experiencing a panic attack but was powerless, absolutely powerless, to do anything about it. Tears began to flow. My mental state took a nosedive and never recovered until late evening.  

 

At one point, I was screaming while I was crying. My mind could think of nothing positive and therefore, all I could dwell on were the negatives in my life: my chronic illness and how it is not getting better but worse, the terrors of not knowing my future but realizing it will likely be so much harder than I ever believed, the fear of continuing to live a life that isn’t really a life, but an illness. Mentally, I was in shock. Physically, I was a mess.

 

Of course, the day went on and I struggled to regain some kind of composure. But fear had wrapped itself around my soul and pain had beaten my body to a pulp.   My mind wandered into dark places every chance it got. My body was continually spasmodic, a sure sign that it had given up the fight to remain tough under pressure.

 

I was taxed to the max, I cannot deny. The late evening eventually came, however, and a relief came with it. Not only was the day almost done but also my tears were drying up and my mind was regaining some of the sanity it had lost.

 

My story does have a point, dear reader. It is nothing brilliant or flashy, but simply this: days like my day today will come, but they will end. They are not forever, only for now. Even with all the struggles, I am now writing this to you, proving that my body has chosen to fight for even a few moments. I am writing this to you, proving that my mind has a little bit of sanity left after the last sixteen hours. Tomorrow may prove an even worse day than today, but the day DOES END. Just as my story ends now.

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