Throw Me a Rope

Dear John,

 

It was a hard afternoon at work and tomorrow will be much worse. On Fridays we always have both lanes of the drive-up open, but tomorrow I'll be on my own. The computer for the second window is down and we're short two people, anyway.

 

I can only do what I can do. I know that. I'll need to stay focused and not hurry myself into making mistakes. It would be a hard day even without the anxiety I'm dealing with right now. I need your prayers, and those of anybody you can round up. And it will be my eleven-hour day, too.

 

I'm trying to stay in the present and not worry about tomorrow. Again, that would be difficult even without the anxiety. I had no idea how brutal anxiety is. It feels like my sympathetic nervous system is stuck on high. I'm shaking, I'm throwing up and having diarrhea, I can't sleep or even relax. The good news is that I can't eat either, and I'm losing weight. I have another week before I see Joe. After that, most drugs take a few weeks before they start to work. My goal is to keep functioning, stay out of the emergency room, and not get fired.

 

I've never felt quite this overwhelmed by anything, even grief. I really do believe that this is the hardest thing I've ever gone through. I can't separate it from my grief for you, of course, because being alone is a big part of this, and you're not here to help and make me feel better. I always miss you so much when I'm sick, and this is like that except that it's something that people blame you for having. And even though Cymbalta is a prescription drug, when you say "withdrawal" people judge you for it. I miss your acceptance and understanding.

 

Please, please pray for me, especially tonight and tomorrow. I feel like I'm drowning. So throw me a rope!

 

Love you, need you,

Joan.