On self care

I started therapy last night. I'm not afraid to admit it. My insomnia reared its ugly head Saturday night after a happy day of graduating with my masters, followed by over indulgence in dark chocolate, Thai food, and plum wine. Upon laying down that night, it became apparent to me around 1 am that my brain did not want to shut down. Around 3 am, I began to panic. Insomnia has been a huge problem for me in the last few years, so much so that I take a pretty strong medication to quiet my brain (I wanted to type "numb my brain" but it seemed too harsh). I moved to the couch, which typically works as a sleep-inducer. Nothing worked. I found myself shaking and crying in the arms of my husband a few hours later, who suggested I take the dog for a walk. I walked the heck out of the dog and came back to my house an hour later a shaky anxious mess. I tried watching TV, but I could not get comfortable. I felt like I had the flu. My brain was rushing and my heart was pounding and I could barely see straight. I decided to go to the gym to tire my body out, followed by a trip to Walmart where I walked up and down every aisle in a zombie trance. That night, I did sleep, but only with the aid of the medication I tried so hard to come off of. I felt like a failure. I have multiple reasons for wanting to come off this medication, one being my change in life situation from when I had originally being prescribed the drug. I was able to ween myself down to a minuscule 1/16 mg from a 1/2 mg. I felt I had done it slowly enough, but my brain disagreed. I was able to sleep Friday night without it for the first time in over 5 years. This only added to my emotional state upon reinstating the medication Sunday night.

I met my therapist last night for our first session. I spoke to her about my fears relating to my mental illness, and how this will affect me as a mother someday. I told her I felt like my need to take the medication felt selfish, and how I had so much guilt and anger at myself. Her response was pretty mind blowing to me. She compared my experience to flying on a plane. Specifically, when flight attendants cover the steps to handle an emergency situation, they instruct you to put on your own mask first. She explained that in order to be able to care for others, you need to first learn how to care for yourself. 

After losing almost 70 lbs over the past few years, I thought I had my self care abilities solidified and on point. Turns out, I was taking care of my only physical self, all the while neglecting to take care of my mental and emotional needs. I have decided to focus on this as my newest goal, but to me, it feels extremely selfish. I do agree with my therapist and know that there's no way I can care for another person without establishing my ability to care for myself. The other day I saw a quote that really stuck with me, "she believed she could, and so she did." I think this may have become my new mantra while I navigate this whole idea of self care.