Because it's messy.

Having it all together. I like to believe that in my day to day life I've "got it together". If someone were to think of Sarah Davis, I would hope that they saw me as someone who has their ducks in a row and knows what they're doing. However, the last few months have been so hard for me. 

It's a journey. Life that is. You have your peaks and your valleys and while life is currently SO good it's also SO hard for me in many ways. 

I should back up and say that while Ryan was in the hospital I was good. Considering the situation, I truly held it all together. That came straight from the good Lord above and from my natural strength that I think I have. I'm a tough cookie. Self-declared. I give myself props for holding it together as well as I did during those incredibly tough days. Even after the hospital stay, the surgery, and having Ryan home I still was doing well. 

A couple months after Ryan was home my world flipped. Suddenly, things didn't feel right with me. 

I began to anticipate the worst. I feared for everything. I was scared. I was nervous. I was paranoid. I was afraid to sleep. Everything affected me in a negative way. This, mind you, was when Ebola was "it" as was the threat of ISIS (see: election time). I vividly remember sitting up at night waiting for something bad to happen. My bed scared me. The dark scared. I feared closing my eyes for what if someone woke up puking in the middle of the night. It was so tough and I was scared to tell anyone for fear of seeming like I had totally lost my mind. Especially Ryan. I was the tough one. I was the one that had it together, kept it together, and should have able to continue to hold it together, but I was failing. And that? That was more crippling to me than the actual "problems" I was facing. 

I began to lose sleep. I became moody and on edge and looking back now I see it. I still see it. At the time I was simply living in a bubble not believing that I had problems when in fact I did.  Then I began to have heart palpitations. They were terrifying because they happened so often. For three days I dealt with them. The longest I went without one was 10 minutes. I became obsessive about anticipating the next one. I sat with my fingers to my throat waiting for the next skipped beat. It was all consuming. Finally, I contact a cardiologist ( the one who was Ryan's) and he told me it was likely stress related and it should stop. When it didn't on that third day he offered to check me out for an ease of mind. I took him up on the offer and had a (normal) EKG as well as wearing a holter monitor for 48 hours. Once I knew I was going to go see him the next day I relaxed some and the skipping began to subside. On the way I began to feel silly because I wasn't having them nearly as much. That made me realize that maybe he was right. Maybe it was stress related. After talking (and shedding tears) it was decided I was most likely suffering from delayed affects from what happened over the summer. It was hard to accept because I honestly felt like that was all behind us and we were good. I guess I was wrong. I was prescribed anxiety meds to deal with the panic attacks I was having. Which if you've never had one they are hard to understand. I could be watching tv and then suddenly think of something and I instantly couldn't breathe. My vision became blurry, I was hot and sweaty, and my hands became clammy. I would have to immediately get up and go do something to get my mind off it, which was usually flossing. Don't ask me why? I guess it was just a focus and activity that had me focusing on doing something else. I wouldn't tell Ryan when I was having one. I simply would remove myself from the situation and come back after I had composure. 

The palpitations stopped completely and I felt like I was getting back to normal. Little by little. 

Then, I found a lump in my right breast. 

That sent me into a panic overload. I obsessively touched it and would try and find others. I would lay on the floor crying, worrying, telling Ryan to feel this or that and what he thought. It was a very difficult time waiting for my doctors appointment. I continued to have panic attacks. I had horrible chest pains that sent me to urgent care one evening where I had another (normal) EKG. I cried over everything. Everything was hard. Everything hurt. Everything reminded me of what we had went through as a family the months before. I was scared. Scared for my life. Scared for my babies. Scared for my husband. 

All in all I just lived in constant fear. 

I prayed and I prayed a lot. 

I asked for prayers on my behalf and on those nights that I publicly declared I was desperate for prayers I felt them and I felt a peace. But, who wants to be that person who asks constantly? I didn't. But then I learned sometimes we go through seasons of our lives where we need it. We need that support. We need people praying for us on a much more constant basis. And well, I'm currently in that season. 

I had my lump checked out and it was another fibroadenoma. I now have two. 

Getting an ultrasound and having the radiologist look at it eased a lot of fears. I could breathe again. It was a long couple of weeks/months but I'm slowly getting my life back. 

The medicine helped, but it was hard taking it. It still is when I needed it which has become very rare. I don't like feeling like I need something to make me feel normal. To make me relax. To make me realize that need to chill out and enjoy the now. 

I slept 7 hours last night. That's the longest I've slept consecutively in over 3 weeks. I've done some major work on my body. I look bad, I feel bad, and I was robbing my children and husband from quality time. 

I've got a plan now, with help of my husband and parents. My next step is therapy. I want my old self back. I want my normalcy. My positive outlook. My vibrancy. I know she's in there. She's hiding behind boulders scared to come out. Slowly the boulders are being chipped away inch by inch. 

Wyatt prays nightly for me. "To make mommy feel better." It's music to my ears that he prays for me because Lord knows I need them and they are being answered in time. 

So there. There's the open book that I always am. The good, the bad, and the very, very, ugly.

I know I haven't been myself and I know that people who have been around me have seen it. After Bunco night a friend mentioned they noticed I was off. This is why. At a girl's night I cried a few times when I certainly should have been excited and jolly. This is why. 

Priorities... Feeling like the old Sarah. I tell myself and others it's like post-traumatic stress disorder. Maybe, maybe not. Either way I know the last 6 months have been grueling in different way. I hope the next 6 are filled with an abundance of smiles, laughs, and love. And prayers. Lots of prayers.  

You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills will burst into song before you, and all the trees of the field will clap their hands.  Isaiah 55:12