Anniversaries

Anniversaries. Often a joyful experience. A celebration of Love. Of Life.

But there are two sides to every story.

On the other end of the spectrum, if the anniversary is one of loss, it can be a heart wrenchingly painful time. And it sucks. Losing someone is an obvious reason for the negative to overwhelm a person. That person was tangible. You could touch them. Talk to them. Be with them. And suddenly, or not, they are no longer there. It’s a physical yearning for something or someone that can, quite literally, cause a heart to break. I used to think this was a myth. Until I met a lady in cardiac rehab who had recently lost her husband of 40+ years. The physical pain it caused her led to a cardiac infarction. A heart attack. Her heart literally broke from the pain of losing the love of her life.

Hormones play a huge part in a person’s response to a situation or experience. Take the celebratory anniversaries. The central nervous system releases happy hormones, such as dopamine and oxytocin. Achievement, physical contact, laughter are just a few of the activities that can cause the hormones to release. By extension happy memories also do the same, which is why Anniversaries can be a happy celebration and make a person feel good. The happy hormones are essential in managing stress hormones, the body’s response to a negative event.

Take my cardiac storm. It was a highly stressful time at work. A restructure, therefore job insecurity, during the run up to financial year end was seriously bad planning on the organisations part. Losing colleagues to stress-related sick leave and some to early retirement led to unmanageable workloads, whilst trying to prove our value and capabilities in light of job interviews. It was a recipe for a catastrophic event. For the icing on my cake, I was studying towards my ACCA qualification. A few cardiologists have questioned the suitability of my chosen field of work. To which I’ve countered that the achievement that comes with being able to help find money to fund essential community needs (it doesn’t grow on trees), and being able to help pull together information to quantify how well a project is working (or not), makes my brain and my heart do happy dances. The cherry on top of my exploding-cake was being at Elizabeth’s funeral, one of the most generous members of our close-knit family. All of these negative events, unbeknownst to me at the time, were causing massive surges of adrenaline and cortisol. I was in constant fight or flight mode with little-to-no time to stop and relax to allow the happy hormones to balance the stress hormones. So my heart did a different kind of dance to the rhythm of a speedcore track, and I came close to death.

Just like with happy memories causing surges in the happy hormones, negative memories do the same for stress hormones. Full circle back to my original point, some Anniversaries suck.

Today is a bitter sweet day. The first anniversary of the day I faced down death, and the nightmares are back with such force I wake with the wind knocked out of me. Let alone the flashbacks that freeze me to the spot & make me break out in a cold sweat. The cold sweat is the worst part of them. It feels like the rain from that day and it feels like it’s about to happen all over again.

This is not as simple as a choice. This is my now. This is my memory. It’s not as simple as “choosing” to see this as a positive event and “tricking” my mind into thinking it is a cause for celebration. “The day I survived”. Yes, I am alive. Yes, I am grateful. But it’s impossible to forget dancing with death. Seeing white, even for a split second. 16 times over. To forget the pain. To not taste blood in my mouth. To not hear the sound of the mechanical thud as the now integral bionic part of me tries to shock me back into a safe rhythm. To not only feel but to hear that thud in every part of my body.

But it’s the Anniversary of that tango. And there have been so many things that remind me of it every day for the last 12 months. Every. Damn. Day. I can’t stay up too late or I pay for it for a week of tiredness (aside from the fact that I don’t sleep much anyway. Because, night terrors). I can’t drink much caffeine or alcohol. I can’t exercise anything like as much or as hard as I used to. My body doesn’t let me stretch like it used to. I can’t be too near speakers with a heavy base because it sets off the arrhythmia. I cannot cope with too much stress or pressure.

The last one’s been an-almost-literal-killer for me. I used to thrive under pressure. Leaving University assignments to the last minute often produced my best results. Tight work deadlines led to such a huge sense of achievement. Until about 6 weeks ago when I was sat, doing nothing, and suddenly my heart rate reached 207BPM and did so periodically for the next 50 minutes. Apparently the work stress was too much even on a Sunday afternoon. Thankfully I stayed in rhythm while it peaked, but it was a massive reminder that my body still needs time.

I am very aware that I one of the lucky ones. I have been able to build a huge range of coping mechanisms, with self-care as the main focus. Being in isolation because I’m on the higher end of the high risk category was not an easy pill to swallow, but in all it has, for me, been a wonderful thing. I miss being able to pop to the shops, and even to go into the office. But it has given me time. Time to build a new routine. Time to stop, meditate and practice aromatherapy. Time to do that face mask or paint my nails. Time to knit and bake. Time to do some yoga, some exercise…even if I can’t manage those 20 full push ups. Yet. Time to reflect. Time to relearn gratitude for what I do have, can do and how much I have improved. This one has been key. When my mind starts to become too loud with the memory, I am learning to stop it. To flip it. Sometimes it takes longer to pull myself round. Sometimes I can’t do it without a flood of tears running down my face. But I can wash my face and his T-shirt. It helps the cleansing process.

But there is one thing I am struggling with most today. Not being able to hug my Mum. She was there from the last shock to being released from hospital (whilst also looking after Grandma and Martyn) and everything after and in between. Video calling is calling is awesome, but it’s no substitute for a Mothers embrace. I know I am lucky to still have her and so many more people in my life. I know others are not so lucky even pre the CV19-shit-fan. I just hope we all get through this sooner rather than later so that I can get back to visiting my home-hub and hug them all a little bit tighter. Grateful that I will be able to. Because, fuck it. My head is in a good space today.

Today is the Anniversary of the day I Survived the Storm.