Ruby Slippers

Dorothy: Oh, will you help me? Can you help me?
Glinda: You don't need to be helped any longer. You've always had the power to go back to Kansas.
Dorothy: I have?
Scarecrow: Then why didn't you tell her before?
Glinda: She wouldn't have believed me. She had to learn it for herself.
Scarecrow: What have you learned, Dorothy?
Dorothy: Well, I—I think that it, that it wasn't enough just to want to see Uncle Henry and Auntie Em — and it's that — if I ever go looking for my heart's desire again, I won't look any further than my own backyard. Because if it isn't there, I never really lost it to begin with! Is that right?
Glinda: That's all it is!
Scarecrow: But that's so easy! I should've thought of it for you -
Tin Man: I should have felt it in my heart -
Glinda: No, she had to find it out for herself. Now those magic slippers will take you home in two seconds!
Dorothy: Oh! Toto too?
Glinda: Toto too.
Dorothy: Now?
Glinda: Whenever you wish.
...
Glinda: Then close your eyes and tap your heels together three times. And think to yourself, 'There's no place like home'.


I woke up again in the middle of the night last night. This time I was in an intense dream and woke up to a few heart palpitations. This in turn set about a physiological response and my anxiety levels rose once again. As I started into panic mode, I remembered the lesson of the ruby slippers. Perhaps, I was still on a kick about childhood memories as The Wizard of Oz had been my favorite movie to watch while growing up. I remember we didn't own a VCR back in those days so my dad would sometimes bring the VCR from his work home as a treat. It would take him a good hour to hook it up to the TV and track down a copy of the Wizard of Oz from our local Blockbuster. When it was finally time to watch and we all gathered onto the couch, I felt giddy with excitement as the opening credits rolled onto the screen. I haven't thought a lot about the movie in recent years but last night I couldn't get the dazzling ruby slippers out of my mind. I remembered Glinda telling Dorothy that she "always had the power." And when it comes to dealing with heart palpitations and anxiety, nothing could be truer. I have the power to decide whether or not I'm going to let it bother me. I have the power to accept what ever comes my way. I can choose whether or not I'm going to have a good day or a bad day. I've always had it in me. I don't need anyone else. I hold the power of the magic ruby slippers. And nobody can help me except for me. I have to believe if for myself.

And as a reminder, I'm thinking I might purchase a little reminder such as this cute one from Etsy: Wizard of Oz tile jewelry pendant

Know Thy Limits or Suffer Thy Consequences

My little girl turned 2 last Sunday, and she is every bit of a toddler. Preparing for her party and then having something to do EVERY evening this past week, wreaked havoc for me last night. I had a panic attack that lasted for hours last night. Yep, you heard me, hours! Usually when I get a panic attack, they last a few minutes but this one was the mother of all panic attacks. For 2 hours, I contemplated going to the hospital. I would breathe well and then forget to breathe and then the panic cycle would start all over again. The reason for all of this panic? Balance. Or lack there of. When I'm feeling well and generally not experiencing heart palpitations, I tend to start taking more things on. I start feeling "normal" again and feel like I can do it all. So I stack up my calendar with one thing after the other, take on more responsibilities, and forget all my important preventative measures (like regular exercise, healthy eating, meditation, etc.). So when I woke up this morning after the horrendous night, I knew what I needed to do to prevent this acute anxiety from returning. Go back to square one. I need to re-examine my life and start finding that much needed balance. I'm off for a walk on this beautiful Fall day in Central Texas. :) And that brings peace to my soul.

A cautionary tale of PVCs in the workplace

Okay, I've been dreading this post. I've wanted to do it for awhile but every time I start to think about it, I hesitate because in some ways I think I'm still traumatized. It's going to be a long post, so if you don't read it all, that's okay. It's more for me. As children start heading off to school this year, a flood of emotions always catch up to me as I relive my first (and only) year of teaching in a public school.

Palpitations have certainly wreaked havoc in my life from time to time, but none more so than 6 years a go when I ventured into a public school classroom and began teaching 2nd grade. Previous to that year, I survived what could only be called a "hellish" student teaching experience. It was not that it was so bad for me, but my good friend who was at the same school as me, was partnered with a horrible mentor. She made her life hell and in turn, I was left shaken by the experience of watching my friend suffer. Trust me, it was bad. But despite warning signs about that school district, I went ahead and signed on as a new teacher in a brand new school. It was in a wealthy neighborhood, and I soon came to find out that most of the mothers' main job was harassing the teachers. Despite constant bombardment from these helicopter moms and a principal who was about the most type A person I've ever met, I muddled through the first semester. 6 months into teaching, I wasn't eating or sleeping well. I remember coming home from school every day and passing out on the couch. I cried every Sunday night. I don't remember seeing my husband that entire first half of the year. But everyone kept telling me that the first year was the hardest and I was doing such a great job. I kept at it. But high levels of stress eventually always catch up and I was about to learn the hard way.

It started when I was driving. I started getting nervous on highways and at red lights. I started having panic attacks on my lunch breaks at school. I weighed in at less than 100 pounds. I remember dreading recess duty because I started having feelings that I might pass out in front of all the children. I attended a teaching conference held in a huge auditorium. I remember having the feeling that I had to get out of the building. I sat there the whole 2 hours in constant fear that I was going to faint if I didn't get out. All of this acute anxiety was new to me. I had some general anxiety before my teaching experience, but never panic attacks. I could feel the world closing in on me. But still I muddled. I began seeing a therapist but looking back I should have been seeing a doctor. I still wonder if I had taken medication if it would have helped.

The real nightmare began in the middle of March. I was teaching math that day and I could feel my heart go whump...whump...whump. Where do you go to take a breather when you are teaching? And as more and more kids needed help with their math assignment, I could feel my anxiety level start to rise. My heart was doing the dance. It was in constant bigeminy. I went next door and got a teacher to look after my class, while I headed down to the nurse's station. At this point, my principal (remember, she's type A) came barging in and wanted to know what the matter was with me. I proceeded to tell her that I've suffered from heart palpitations over the years and it was particularly flared up today. At that point, she FREAKED out! She started telling me about her dad who had heart palpitations and how serious it was. How he almost died. Clearly, not the thing to tell someone when they are experiencing them. Then she starts telling me that she certainly won't let me go back to the classroom and that she was going to call an ambulance. She mumbled something to the effect of "teaching isn't for the faint of heart." Again, I tried to reassure her that I could deal with them and that I was in no danger. But she wouldn't have it. We finally compromised and my husband came and picked me up and took me home. I took a personal leave the following weak.

But when I came back, things hadn't changed. I was just as stressed and anxious and to make matters worse, my principal acted like I had some terrible disease. I remember dropping off some books in the library, and the librarian stopped me and asked me about my panic attacks. How the hell did the librarian know about what had happened to me a couple weeks a go? It seemed like the whole school thought I was some sort of mental freak. I plummeted into a depression. As the heart palpitations became more frequent, I finally had to pull out of school for the rest of the year with just a couple weeks left. My heart broke for my precious 2nd graders who couldn't understand what had happened to their teacher.

I was given a couple weeks to move my stuff out of my classroom. But my principal thought I wasn't acting fast enough and yelled at me on the phone that she was taking charge and moving my stuff out of my classroom herself. I told her she better not touch any of my private stuff. I came up to school with my mom and sister and we started boxing everything up. At one point the vice principal started yelling at my mom that it was a privilege that we were even able to move my stuff out. My mom who has been a teacher for 20+ years, said that she had never been spoken like that in her entire life. He even yelled at her that if she didn't stop arguing with him, he would call the cops. What? Call the cops on a teacher and her mom because we were arguing with them? I was on medical leave and I had every right to get my stuff out of my classroom before the deadline.

What the f*ck? Is that how you treat any human being, especially one diagnosed with MVP, PVCS, panic disorder? If I had had cancer, do you think they would have done the same things to that person? What crime had I committed that they thought they could treat me like that? Up until the time I met my principal in the nurse's office, I had only gotten positive raves. My principal had even watched me do a lesson and said it was one of the best she had ever seen. So where did they get off and treat me like they did? Despite the statistics that one out of five people in a typical office can be expected to suffer from a mental condition, mental illness and the workplace is still considered taboo. Many people fear opening up to their co-workers and supervisors for fear of being stigmatized when they seek help. And in my case and in many others, the fear may be well founded.

How can a workplace combat the myths, lift the stigma and make sure people with mental illness get the treatment they need?

A clear message needs to come from the head of a company and be communicated to every employee. The main point to be made is that the organization has a nondiscriminatory attitude—it sees mental illness as no different from physical illness in terms of how people are treated in the workplace. “A company needs to tell people that, if they ever seek help for mental illness, it won’t be held against them,” says Robert Dinerstein, a law professor at American University in Washington D.C., who focuses on disability issues.

If only I had had that message. :(

They're back, and I'm back

My respite from palpitations a couple months a go has given way to a vengeance of them the last couple of weeks. Last Saturday evening, I had the worst case of them I've had in years. I had just laid down to go to sleep when they started to rear their ugly heads. The end of a day seems to be a common trigger for many of my palpitations. I'm not sure if I'm just not feeling them during the day and then when I go lay down, I start to notice them or if they are just they byproduct of a long stressful day. Usually, I believe it's the latter. A couple whumps later, I can tell my anxiety level starts to rise. I start to practice my deep breathing, but then my mind starts to play little tricks on me like "Uh oh, what if they don't stop? What if I start getting more of them? What if I have to go the hospital?" And as soon as that negative anticipatory anxiety starts, I get more and more of them. Pretty soon, I was in bigeminy or trigeminy where I started getting them every other or every third beat. I would exacerbate the condition when I started putting pressure on myself to "beat these pvcs" after all I'm an expert on them now, right??? I continued to deep breathe and then decided I would try talking to my husband for distraction. I started telling him all the things I had on my plate right now and all the stresses and worries I'm dealing with. That helped a lot and before I knew it, a gentle peace enveloped me and I fell asleep. I remember waking up around 3 a.m. in the morning excited that I had gotten some sleep and that the pvc's were no longer bothering me. Every time I'm successful at accepting and dealing with them, I'm encouraged that I do have the power to make them stop. I don't need a magic pill or a doctor to help me through them. I have me. My mind and attitude is my greatest ally.

But even after that successful night of stopping them, palpitations continued to bother me off and on throughout the week. It was the week before my period was to begin, and I firmly believe (although some male doctors won't admit it) that the fluctuating hormones played a role in the abundance of pvc's that I experienced this week. I also went out of town for a week and although vacation can be relaxing, just the change of routine, most likely contributed to them. I got back late yesterday and instead of relaxing and taking it easy I went over to a friend's party. As I was sitting outside in the hot and humid late afternoon sun she handed me a Mexican martini. I knew I was dehydrated and should have been drinking water, but I started to sip on the alcohol anyway. A couple minutes later, whump...whump...whump. My heart was skipping in a dance. We excused ourselves early. I went home and took a shower. They were still bothering me but when I sat up in a meditative pose and started to breathe in and out fully to counts of 3, 4, 5 and they started to diminish. My husband came in and gave me a back massage and once again, I started talking through all my worries. And guess what? The palpitations disappeared after an hour or so. I was able to go to sleep without any trouble and woke up late the next morning feeling refreshed and energized.

Which Came First, the Fear or the Flutter?

I believe a stressful first year of college along with genetics and the death of my beloved cousin was the catalyst in the beginning of my heart palpitations. I feared them and had a couple panic attacks after experiencing many in a row. So I believe my panic attacks started when I first got the dance in my heart. In fact, most of my panic attacks today still revolve around when anticipating or experiencing a bad round of PVCs. About 5 years a go, I was in the midst of the hardest year of my life--my first year teaching. Up until Christmas of that first year I was just trying to stay afloat. I got up early, taught seven year old children, pacified crazy parents, worked late, and came home only to crash on the couch. I dropped below 100 pounds that year. In the Spring of that year, I was driving to Target on the highway and thought I felt a couple flip flops. My heart started to race and I panicked. I started to hyperventilate and the only thing I could think of was to get off that highway as quickly as possible. As soon as I exited, my heart started to calm down, and I was able to complete my shopping trip taking side streets on the way home. Little did I know that that event would trigger one of my biggest anxieties that I deal with to date. Driving on the highway. I can get around okay for the most part and even a couple years a go, I thought I had it beat because I drove all the way to Austin from San Antonio by myself. But I got pregnant and for whatever reason toting a child and being responsible for her safety made me fear the highway again. I had a big panic attack last Summer while getting on the highway and I haven't been on it since.

So that leads me to the important question: Which came first, the panic or the heart flutters? It seems like if you look at my history, the heart flutters began while I was driving on the highway. Then the panic set in. But I can see it the other way around, too. The stress of driving that day 5 years a go caused the palpitations. And now I associate the highway with palpitations--the two linked with fear and loss of control.

I've come so far at accepting my heart palpitations. And overall I think I'm a highly functioning person. I don't let my fear of highway driving stop me from going out. In fact sometimes I think I even overcompensate by making sure I don't close myself off from the world like Paula Deen did. I'm pretty social and I definitely want my daughter to see me driving around and going places. Currently I'm on a new found quest to start driving on highways again. I'm looking into a trying out a highly recommended source--"The Original Driving Fear Program" at http://www.drivingfear.com/index.php. I'm also working on trying not to feel embarassed or ashamed that I'm not comfortable driving on highways. There are certain people in my life that I would still like to tell and have them offer me support.

Maybe one day I'll be that annoying girl cruising on the highway--windows opened, music blaring, singing loudly, and hair flying.

My New Hero is...

a butter-loving, finger-licking, joke-cracking queen of melt-in-your mouth Southern cuisine...Paula Deen!



I picked up her book It Ain't All About the Cookin' because I heard that at one point in her life she suffered from a debilitating agoraphobia whereby she didn't leave her house for years. Fortunately I've never suffered from full blown agoraphobia but there have been times in my life when I haven't wanted to be in public because I was either experiencing uncomfortable PVCs or afraid I would start to get them outside my comfort zone. Paula Deen suffered from intense anxiety for over 20 years before she finally came to the end of her rope and realized that she had to start living. One morning she got out of bed and like a thunderclap heard the words to the Serenity Prayer--the ones that alcoholics use at Alcoholics Anonymous: God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference. At last she had got it. Deen writes, "Sure, I'm gonna die, I said to myself. My children are gonna die. Everyone I love is gonna die. But today has given me today and I'm gonna go out and live today. I won't die today." She started slowly and got better and better. She went on to start her own catering business, open two hugely successful restaurants, publish numerous cookbooks, have her own cooking show, star in a movie, and appear on Oprah! But through it all, she would still carry a brown paper bag in case she started to hyperventilate. Of course, she seldom needed it. And when life challenges presented themselves and she too began to suffer heart palpitations, she was smart enough to go to the doctor right away and tell him that her nerves were shot. She got on Zoloft and started feeling better. She is a shining example of a strong woman who has experienced intense anxiety and its effects, but has gone on to be successful and happily fulfilled.