Overload.

So excited that this worked out! 

So. March.

We sold Sergio's house and bought our new house.

I took three trips to California -- two for work (Mountain View and LA) and one for vacation (long weekend in Palm Springs).

We packed S's house and started packing mine. It looked like a bomb went off.

We ran two 5Ks. And I am sticking with my training plan -- running plus strength training with my trainer.

We are gearing up for two weeks in Mexico (we leave Saturday morning).

And, to make it all complete, I am still weaning myself off of the nasty medication (Effexor) -- at a snail's pace, unfortunately. And I just went down in dosage on Saturday night, so I'm feeling it as I write this.

This is overload.

It hurts me so much because I used to be able to manage all of this. That is what I tell myself in the dark moments, the moments when I question and judge myself. And I mourn. Because, really, that is what that is about -- I can't do what I used to do because the toll is too high.

When I am managing things well -- when I have more agency over more schedule, when the waves don't come in at the same cadence -- I am happy and centered. But the comparison creeps back into my head in times like these.

This is the same grief or confusion that family or friends might deal with -- this sense that I will get better and be like I was. It is a long, slow process of healing, but I am finally accepting that this really might be the new normal.

The low point for me was Thursday morning when I woke up in an uncomfortable hotel bed in LA. I had an hour to throw my things into my suitcase and get downstairs to catch a cab to the office, and beyond that several hours of being "on" with my teammates. I stood in the shower and cried, letting the water wash over me. I wanted to run -- I wanted to get on a plane and go home and crawl into my bed. At the same time, I really really wanted to try to get through the day. I kept reminding myself that I was so much stronger than before, that I could do it, that I had allies in the room with me.

In My Age of Anxiety, Scott Stossel writes, "My current therapist, Dr. W., says there is always the possibility that revealing my anxiety will lift the burden of shame and reduce the isolation of solitary suffering. When I get skittish about airing my psychiatric issues, Dr. W. says, 'You've been keeping your anxiety a secret for years, right? How's that working out for you?'"

That is the crux of it -- when I am having a bad day or am lost in an anxiety spiral, I have to be brave and reach out. I did -- to two different folks that morning. And you know what? Immediately things were better -- immediately I didn't feel alone and I was reminded that I am surrounded by advocates.

A big part of dealing with my anxiety is the fear of disappointing others. I haven't had a party at the house in awhile (obviously because it is a mess). I haven't had time to do as much with my work friends (obviously because I'm trying to wrap up things before two weeks out). I haven't finished packing my house (obviously because I am working full-time+ and spend part of that time on the road). I haven't been blogging like I really really want to (obviously because all of the above).

But I am back to blogging because I have to reach out. I have to be brave. I have to ask for your thoughts and prayers and your support. You can send them to me from your heart or with your words or with a smile or a hug. It's that connection that will help me get through these periods of overload and will remind me that you like me for who I am right now, not who I was.

That's how any of us get by in the world -- with the helping hand of someone else. It is a hand I'll extend to you if you need it too -- you can count on me for that.

xo,
Sarah

P.S. It does feel good to blog again. I have draft posts about our Palm Springs trip, our new house, and my March reading picks. I'll start polishing them and get them out as I come out of this crazy overload.

P.P.S. This guy -- don't know that I could do this without him. Love you papi.

Moorten Botanical Garden in Palm Springs, CA