New Beginnings

I rarely go out for NYE anymore, but it’s still one of my favorite holidays. I love words and symbolism, so the idea of having a clean slate is such a beautiful thing filled with possibilities. This is my favorite idiom on January 1st, and I take resolutions pretty seriously.

The past few years I’ve been choosing a “word of the year” that I try to keep as the foundation of the decisions I make. 2016 was “perseverance.” It was the year of the deployment and involved a whole lot of patience, sleepless nights, and pushing through the really hard parts. Something I remember so well about this year was running away from my thoughts at the gym. I often rode the recumbent bike and pushed harder and harder to try to escape from the difficult parts of life. As I’ve grown up I’ve found my coping mechanisms for hardship involve either working out, or doing my hair and makeup for no reason other than to feel like I have control over something when I can’t do anything about certain things life throws my way. I have a hard time dealing when people do things that hurt me, and I begin to feel claustrophobic when I know there’s nothing I can do about the way others behave or the fact that my health is declining despite working hard to feel good. Finding things I can control when it feels like things are spiraling has been so helpful to my heart.

I skipped 2017 because I felt too busy and excited for Robert’s homecoming. I wrote all about trying to get Tom Brady to come greet him at the airport, then about what our reunion was actually like. It happened to be perfect, even without the greatest quarterback there with us. We started a normal life together this year, and I focused on being in the present a lot. This past year was supposed to be “Fearless,” but as I’ve said a few times before I failed miserably at this word for 2018. I didn’t leave my comfort zone enough, and I gave up on a lot of my writing because I felt scared of sharing my intimate thoughts with the Internet. One of the reasons Single in The Suburbs really took off in the beginning was because I was able to candidly talk about my life without much of a filter or fear of being judged. I loved being open about the dating world with everyone because I realized that my dating life was just as uncomfortable, frustrating, and fun as every other twenty-somethings. I embraced the awkwardness, shared my weirdest stories, and ultimately tried to help other people realize they weren’t alone in anything. We all were having a hard time trying to find love and meeting someone who really understood our heart.

My problem now is that I don’t always feel as relatable anymore. I feel like nobody understands the pain that I have (Even though I know they do, and so many have been through so much more), I am more guarded and protective of my relationships, and I am afraid of the shadows of strangers that lurk on the Internet. Instead of feeling like I have a nice space where I can share without being judged, I feel like there are so many people who are cruel to others for having a different opinion, and “different” is a word that seems to define me. I can’t always relate to normal twenty-something’s lives, but I rarely find myself feeling insecure about being different. I was raised to love and be kind to everyone — whether or not they are similar to me — and I don’t understand the culture that accepts being cruel as a way to show disagreement. The Internet is plagued with trolls and people who get a kick out of tearing others down, which makes sharing any sort of opinion frightening.

This year I asked my Instagram friends to help me choose a word. We were either going to focus on “Joy,” or try “Fearless” one last time. The vote fluctuated from leaning heavily on “fearless,” to giving “joy” the lead later in the day. They switched back and forth a few times, and I liked that people seemed interested in both words, but ultimately I landed on FEARLESS for my word of 2019. I chose it for a few different reasons. First, I think it’s more difficult for me. Joy is something that comes more naturally with my personality, and although it’s been more of a struggle through times of hardship, I am always going to try to be joyful — regardless of the circumstances in life I cannot control. It doesn’t matter whether it’s 2019 or a decade later, I don’t see that changing about me. I like a challenge and being fearless this year certainly is going to be just that. I don’t want to lose the part of my heart that makes me kind, but I need to get my edge back that makes me more resilient to other humans.

Finally, I got some words of wisdom from a friend that if I live fearlessly, joy will come along with that. This was exactly what I needed to hear to pull the trigger and choose 2019 as the year of living fearlessly. I want this to impact several parts of my life. I am going to start writing on here more about things that matter to me — even in the areas where I feel like I’m different than the majority. I am going to face my fear of rejection in more than one area of my life, and I am going to pace myself for the dreams I want to chase. Finally, I’m going to teach myself that I am more valuable than what my body can and can’t do. One of my biggest fears since getting sick with POTS has been whether or not I could still be a valuable part of the world, even when I feel like I’m at my worst. Exploring what makes me special is a surprisingly scary thing because what I used to really value and love about myself was different before I got sick. I had very different goals and things I wanted to do in my life, but my trajectory drastically changed five summers ago. This is going to be a year where I take care of myself and learn how to be brave, even when it’s hard. 2019, get ready to be fearless. 

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Photo Credit: Katie Nesbitt Photography

Scary Statistics

My interest in blogging so much happened a year or two after I got sick with POTS. I’ve always loved to write and have had several different blogs or online journals throughout the years, but this is the first one that is really here to stay.

Despite today being Halloween, it is also the last day of Dysautonomia Awareness month, which is something I haven’t been able to touch on a ton since I was gone for much of October. Instead of writing about my own viewpoint, I am going to post some fun facts from the Dysautonomia International Facebook page — along with a few little comments about some of them. Also, Dysautonomia is an umbrella term for autonomic nervous system disorders, and POTS is my specific disorder.

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All photos credit of DysautonomiaInternational.org. Check it out!

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Brain fog is perhaps one of the most frustrating symptoms of Dysautonomia because not only do you feel like you’ve lost a working body, but your brain gets riled up and confused. I am able to manage this one pretty well these days, but can always think better when I am laying down on the couch and have a normal amount of blood pumping to my brain.

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It took me about a week and a half to get a proper POTS diagnosis, mainly because it just took time to get into the doctor who is now my cardiologist. The first doctor who saw me speculated I that had POTS since he could see the drastic changes in heart rate and blood pressure when I changed positions, but we did more extensive testing when I went to a second doctor who is an expert in Dysautonomia. Which leads me to this little fact:

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No wonder every single person I meet in this area goes to the same doctors office and knows about the little red leather chairs. It’s crazy to me that something as widespread as POTS still has so few people who are considered experts in it. I think this will be changing drastically in the next few years.

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My biggest issue these days is pain. It fluctuates greatly from day to day or month to month, but the coat hanger pain and arm pain is the worst. It is difficult to sit at a computer and just type as long as I want to because my arms, shoulders, and pecs have lots of trigger points. I am still going to physical therapy, and hope to work my way up to using a computer for a normal amount of time.

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This makes me FUME. Anyone who tells a person that their chronic illness is in their head clearly has no empathy and has likely been blessed with good health for their entire life. Like, come to any doctor with me and they’ll tell you something is off with my autonomic nervous system. Come to my cardiologist and he’ll tell you every single thing that is going on, and why my body behaves the way it does. I may not always understand why I am having certain symptoms, but there is a logical explanation behind each and every one of them. 

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POTS is not a rare illness, it’s just rarely diagnosed or talked about. I happen to have a more severe case of POTS, however I guarantee if you are friends with a couple hundred people on Facebook that at least a few of them have been effected by it in one way or another. Since the number guesstimating how many people have it is so high (about 1 in 100 people), I speculate many of these POTSies have infrequent fainting spells, some unexplained vertigo, or a little handful of symptoms they are able to tolerate enough that they don’t go searching for answers. As the graphic mentioned earlier, it is only about 25% of people with POTS who are disabled from it.

Whether or not this is something close to your heart (no pun intended!), please take a minute to check out the foundation and educate yourself a little more about Dysautonomia. It will definitely be something you will notice at some point in the future, whether it’s with a friend or an acquaintance. POTS is a very easy thing to test for, as long as a doctor knows what to look for — which can be the hardest part of any chronic illness. Hopefully we will have a cure soon!

Break Up With Him

I stayed in a relationship that wasn’t meant to be far too long. Deep down I think I somehow knew it wasn’t going to end well — or rather, if we did end up together that we would have a long, rough road ahead of us.

After the smoke cleared I realized that although any relationship will have trials, every single decision doesn’t have to be difficult. Now I am with someone who thinks I’m worth making sacrifices for, and someone who is really excited about having a future with me. I have learned that there are people in this world who are beautifully selfless and know how to love someone with a chronic illness. There are people who are as fiercely loyal as I am, and who won’t give up on a relationship just because things get tough.

Here are a few behaviors that are major red flags in a relationship:

  1. Your significant other puts you down for things you can’t control. In my case this was my illness and the fact that I couldn’t physically work. I was a recent college graduate when I first got sick and had dreams of being an entertainment journalist. I had always been incredibly hard-working, but although I wanted more than anything to work, I physically could not have a normal job with my new chronic health condition. I was constantly told about how it “wasn’t my fault,” but that POTS was the thing keeping us in a rut. If I hadn’t gotten sick, we would be in a much happier place because there wouldn’t have to work through such a new, heavy road block.
  2. Your concerns are always your problem. When someone treats you like you’re crazy because of seemingly normal concerns, it is called “gaslighting.” It’s funny how I never knew what this term was until a few months ago, but if your significant other acts like you wanting some of his time every week is your problem and that you are being needy, this is not normal. Your puppet master will surely turn any conflict in the relationship back on your own insecurities until you really begin questioning whether what you are asking for really is too much (Take note: if what you want seems like a very basic need in a relationship, such as quality time together, it absolutely normal. You are not crazy, and you should get out as fast as you can so that you can find someone who understands the basic fundamentals of a healthy relationship).

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  3. Your well-being is completely your own responsibility. This is a tricky one. Although I do believe people need to be happy by themselves before they can add someone else into the picture, I also believe a significant other should want to take care of you, as you would do the same for them. I’ve always been very independent and balanced my boyfriend/friend time well, but my one of my exes thought that his actions shouldn’t affect the way I felt. He didn’t understand why drunk texting me then disappearing for the night made me upset, and said that the anxiety I felt was entirely on me.
  4. He is not a man of his word. No, it is not okay to leave you hanging for hours on end, and it is not okay to constantly break plans you have together. Yes, things sometimes come up in life that you cannot control, but if you feel like you cannot get excited about future plans with someone because they are unreliable, it’s time to find a person who will remember what they tell you and follow through in their actions.
  5. You no longer recognize yourself when you’re with him. My ex made me anxious, pessimistic, depressed, and short-tempered. None of these are typical “Krista qualities,” and I didn’t like the person I was when we were together. The first 75% of our relationship I was myself. When he decided to change the course of his life drastically,though, and leave our relationship in the background of his life, I became a complete mess. I hadn’t realized how dependent on him I had become and quickly fell apart.

Today’s lesson: Now I am with someone who is kind, patient, and wants to take care of my heart. My boyfriend wants to spend time with me, take me out, give me little gifts “just because,” and remind me that I’m special. If you let go of what is hurting you in life, you make room for new things that are better. It’s really, really scary to let go of something that is familiar and comfortable, but if you are brave enough to, you might just learn how strong you really are.

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b l a c k o u t.

Vrrrroosh.

My pulse is racing and I feel the floor beneath my bare feet become colder, harder.


Have you ever fainted before? It’s scary.

I’ve become kind of a pro at passing out, mainly because I have had a lot of close calls, rather than eating the floor on a regular basis. Ever since I got sick with POTS three-and-a-half years ago I’ve learned what it’s like to faint.


My heart can’t stop. It keeps speeding up and feels like I’m going downhill in a car and my brakes just failed. Instead of being able to pull an emergency brake or slow the car’s roll, it speeds up at a terrifyingly alarming speed.

Thudthudthudthud.

Shit. I crouch to the ground as soon as my brain catches up to the rest of my body and realizes that I am going down, whether I want to or not.

This is what I’ve trained for.

My body has been trained for fainting. I have done it so many times that I know how to respond. Everything always happens so fast. Racing. Dizzy. Blackout. Nausea. Sweating. Falling. Ground — always in that order.

Ground.

As soon as I am down on the ground I feel the cold tile behind me. I’m cold and wet, but don’t really notice until my hand slips. The bath was a bad idea. It helps with the pain, but my heart can’t handle the heat. I feel around behind me, blind, just to be sure my head won’t hit the hard floor when I lie down in my postural position. I close my eyes and brace myself. There’s no change in my vision yet, but I hope it comes back soon, as my spatial awareness isn’t so great. This can pose for a dangerous problem when I’m on hard ground. Usually I black out on the plush carpet when I get out of bed too fast, but sometimes it happens in places that are a lot scarier than that.

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This is what blacking out looks like. It starts off looking like a crackly television, then turns to this.

My hands slide slowly behind my body as I sit on the floor and ease the rest of myself to the ground. I close my eyes, praying I won’t vomit and reminding myself to take deep breaths until it’s all over. I don’t know if one ever really throws up when they’re about to faint, as it’s never happened to me, but it always feels like I will.

Ten seconds go by. Twenty. An hour?

It feels like my time on the ground before my vision finally starts turning slightly colorful and blurry again is lasting a lifetime, though I know it couldn’t be more than thirty seconds. First it’s as if I’m wearing high prescription glasses that my 20/20 vision isn’t used to. Then everything gradually comes in to focus. I can finally see again and the blood rushes back to my brain.

Stupid, stupid, I think to myself as I realize what I had done. The water in the bathtub was too warm for a POTS patient, and I stood up way too quickly when I made my move to get a razor. I had hurt myself on accident by taking a high risk for a minimal reward. I hate not being able to shave my legs in the shower (because of the postural change that occurs when I do), and all I wanted was to have a smooth finish after my bath. I should have known better than to stand up quickly from a warm bath, but I want so badly to be normal again and not to think about every little move I make and how it’s going to affect me for the rest of the week.


Sleep.

Any time I have a close call with my heart acting up it makes me incredibly tired.

As soon as I gather the right amount of energy to safely stand up, I shut my eyes tightly and push lightly with my hands to lift the rest of my body up. I throw on a robe — not bothering to dry off — and walk with a blank mind and body into my bedroom and ease into my warm, soft bed.

Soon I am out again, but this time the darkness isn’t scary — it’s peaceful. My brain feels like it can’t function again because it needs rest, but that’s okay. I’m finally safe; I’m in the least likely place for my body to attack itself again.

 

The Past Isn’t Greener

This is a letter I want to “send” to the couple of exes who still aren’t over us, but I want anyone who can’t get over an ex to let this resonate with you too. Everyone deserves a fair chance to find love, and thinking about your past isn’t going to help you move towards the beautiful future you want.


Dear Ex ,

You’ve always wanted what you can’t have. Happiness was always just one short leap away — until you took the plunge and missed.

The grass is always greener on the other side. You tried so hard to get me to date you, and when you finally had my heart being with me wasn’t what you had pictured. I’m not perfect, and that’s okay, but perfection is what you often strive for.

Now that we’re not together anymore you feel like you made a mistake breaking up with me. I wanted to write you this letter to let you know that you didn’t. Even though I wanted nothing more than to keep you at the time, deep down I think I always knew you weren’t really mine. To all the guys who have ever dumped me and regretted it — I would have eventually gotten the courage to leave. We weren’t right for each other. You are smarter than you think.

I really hope this letter gives you closure and helps you move on. Just because we weren’t a good fit doesn’t mean you don’t deserve someone who will love you the same way — or even better than I did. There are so many amazing, kind, thoughtful, and genuine girls in the world that you will surely find others who will steal your heart. When you find “the one” girl you hope to keep, treat her well. Don’t expect perfection and laugh at her flaws instead of criticizing them. Embrace your differences and take them as an opportunity to learn from each other and grow. Don’t compare her to me. Comparing people really is comparing apples to oranges. You have a tendency to idealize our relationship and only look at the beautiful parts we left behind — don’t forget that we were deeply flawed. Don’t forget that I am a human being, which means the perfection you remember is very skewed.

Finally, don’t be afraid to give away your heart again. Just because I broke it doesn’t mean every girl will. I’m not powerful enough to shatter your heart permanently; it will surely heal, and one day you’re going to meet someone who fits with you so perfectly that your heart will finally feel like it’s home. I was just a small story in your journey to find love.

Even though you aren’t in my life anymore I still care about you, want the best for you, and even pray for you when you cross my mind. I still don’t want to be friends — we both have enough of those already — but I want you to know that you can, and will, be happy with someone else. I know it hurts sometimes to see me with someone new. This is actually amazing, though, because I was always the one in our relationship who felt too much. If my heart can heal from something I thought would destroy me, yours surely will too.

Wishing you nothing but the best,
Your Ex Girlfriend

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Today’s lesson: `Don’t be afraid to fall in love again. Some girls may break your heart, but one day someone amazing is going to just stick. Keep trying until you find her. She is your forever — not me — so don’t waste your time wondering about us anymore. We have some great memories together, but imagine having someone to make memories with who will be by your side for always. That’s who your heart will beat fast for.

Winning The Breakup

You know when you first break up with someone the feeling that you want to “win” the breakup? You tell your new ex that they’re going to regret their decision a lot longer than you will and you hope you’re right, even though you don’t really believe a heart can hurt as much as yours does at that very minute.

I am not proud to admit that’s how I felt when one of my exes and I broke up. He and I saw our breakup for what it was — the right thing to do for both of us. That didn’t make it easy or fun, though. I think when you deal with something as difficult as losing a loved one you don’t like going through it alone. Knowing someone feels the exact same way as you do and misses the exact same memories deep down in the pit of his stomach the way you do brings a little bit of comfort, even if it is superficial and fleeting.

The more I have dealt with losing people and the more my heart has healed and become secure, the more I realize how ridiculous this sentiment is.

I’ve seen exes again who clearly are still not over our relationship and it breaks my heart. Just because these people aren’t in my life anymore doesn’t mean they’re not still living, breathing human beings with feelings of their own. Lately I’ve found myself praying for a few of these gentleman and you know what is absolutely crazy? One of the last prayers I said I started to pour out my heart to God and asked Him to find a great girl who is a better fit for the man who hurt me the most. None of this is because I am a decent human being; this has been 100% Jesus Christ working to change my heart. I never would have been able to get to this place on my own, and frankly I can’t believe how absolutely genuine my desire is.

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I wrote a letter to all of my exes that I’ll be sharing later this week. I really do hope they are all doing well, and I hope each and every one of them can find a way to move on from our relationship if they haven’t already. My hopes in writing the letter is not only to give them a sense of closure, (If any of them still read my blog, that is!) but I also hope anyone else who is having a hard time getting over a relationship can read it and connect to the words I wrote and find a way to move on.

My Second Love

People always make a big deal about how your first love will always have a special place in your heart. While I believe this is true and that you learn a lot from your first love, I’d like to focus more on my second. I have some special memories with my first boyfriend I’ll treasure forever, but hot damn, my second blew that first one out of the water.

My second love is the one who taught me that although the first person I thought would be my forever didn’t work out that there are, in fact, people who are an even better fit for me and that my heart can learn to love again. He made me feel like I hadn’t even known what love and passion looked like before, and I often found myself telling him that I didn’t realize men could be the attentive and caring person he was toward me in a relationship.

Falling in love a second time was twice as scary, but twice as beautiful as the first.

The second time I fully knew what a terrible heartbreak looked like. I was wary and cautious and didn’t want another boyfriend, but quickly realized I was powerless when it came to him. He was the exception to my rule, and there was no stopping me from falling for him — hard. Now, several months in, I couldn’t be happier that I let my guard down, took a risk, and let myself fall in love all over again.

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Today’s lesson: Have you ever met someone and wondered what in the world you did to deserve such a great human in your life? I think when you get to have that person as your significant other you should hold on to them as tightly as you possibly can. Love is one of the most beautiful things this world has to offer, so when your heart finds itself ready to love again, let it — even though it’s one of the scariest things you could possibly do.

My Story Part 2

The next morning I woke and went to grab breakfast with my mom. I had been excited the night before, as we were scheduled to go paddleboarding. I felt slightly nauseous, but dismissed it as nerves for the anticipation of learning something new.

I gnawed on a donut with one hand as I slipped on my swimsuit with the other.

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By the time we got to the paddleboarding hut I was feeling pretty ill (And regretted giving in to the temptation of Duck Donuts). I wondered why I was so nervous about something that was on still water. I am a good swimmer and wasn’t afraid of falling in; it made no sense. I sat outside and tried to focus on how good the sun warming my newly freckled skin felt until we were called to go to the dock.

We all took turns hopping onto our boards in the calm bay and pushed off the dock.

Thirty seconds in I felt the seasickness setting in. How is this happening so quickly? I wondered to myself. I always get nauseous on boats, but it usually takes a little bit of time for everything to set in.

“Am I supposed to feel dizzy?” I asked the instructor as my vision blurred slightly.

“Uh, I don’t think anyone’s ever mentioned that before,” he casually replied with a minor look of concern splashed across his face. “Keep me posted on how you’re doing.”

I nodded. I hated more than anything being high maintenance so I wasn’t about to make everyone turn around for me, but I didn’t remember feeling that sick in a very long time. I tried to make the most of things as I paddled close behind the instructor. My brother and I giggled about the showoff who had left the group and gotten stuck in the marsh, but I felt like I couldn’t focus on anything. The fogginess in my head made this almost feel like a dream.

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Realizing I was close to actually getting sick, I told the group I was going to turn around and went to sit on the dock. My head spun, but I figured I would acquire my land legs again soon enough.


Later that night I felt a little better, so we went out for dinner to a local homestyle BBQ joint. I was excited; I love ribs and couldn’t wait for our meal. Once we got our meal nausea set in — hard.

“I think I’m sick,” I announced to my family. My head was spinning and I didn’t laugh at any of the jokes that everyone had been telling. I rested my head on the table as we waited for the check. Great, it’s just my luck that the one time I get the flu we are at the beach, I thought to myself. I had gotten sick a lot living in New York City the spring before, but other than that I was a pretty healthy person; I couldn’t remember the last time I had the flu.

We went home and I rested on the couch. I asked my brother to get a 32 ounce Gatorade from the fridge and sipped on it as I gazed past the television while The Office played in the background.

I reached for my drink and was startled to find that it was empty. My mouth felt dry and I couldn’t swallow. Why wasn’t there any spit?

I chose another Gatorade from the fridge and drank it reluctantly. I didn’t want to puke yellow Gatorade all over the couch, but I also felt like I needed more to drink. Two Gatorades down, still no spit. My body began to panic as I realized I was disturbingly dehydrated. I took a deep breath and drank a solo cup filled with water. Then another, and another. In total I had 14 different drinks and noticed absolutely no change in my hydration. Tears welled up in my eyes and I wondered why my body was letting me to expel water from my eyes, but keeping it from my mouth. Something wasn’t right. In fact, something was very, very wrong.

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A few hours later I lay in bed and still felt my heart racing. It was getting worse. I had noticed a rapid heart beat a few weeks ago, but pinned it on feeling restless about the problems my boyfriend and I were having. This time was different, though. It wasn’t just a short spurt; my heart was racing and wouldn’t stop. I was nauseous. The room was spinning around me. My limbs felt heavy and numb.

This is the end, I thought. It may seem hilariously dramatic to everyone reading this, but before I knew what was wrong with me — a very sudden onset of postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome — it really felt like my body was quickly shutting down on me.

My life flashed before my eyes, but it wasn’t the way it does in the movies.

Instead I just felt a sense of regret. God, if I live through tonight I promise I’ll make something of myself and try to honor You, I bartered. I’ll get to know You better. Please don’t let me die. I don’t want to find out what happens when I die yet.

I hadn’t taken enough time to focus on my faith and prepare for what would happen when it was my time to leave the earth. I wanted to feel more comfortable with my ending; I hated how unsettled I felt with the fact that this might be my last night here.

I wasn’t sure about much, but I was certain that something was very wrong with my heart. A 22-year-old shouldn’t be having a heart attack, but that was the only explanation I had for the sensation I was feeling. I called for my mom. She rushed downstairs and came into my room. I told her how I was feeling and she crawled into bed next to me. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t want to go to the emergency room so far away from home. I felt like I was on my death bed, but I also didn’t feel like anything was adding up. I was healthy. I took care of myself. Logic told me it couldn’t be anything serious, but I felt otherwise.

That was the longest night of my life. I turned on the television in an attempt to drown out the sound of my heart racing against the pillow. I tried to ignore everything that felt wrong; I didn’t want to rush around a foreign town to find a doctor at 2 in the morning. If I lost consciousness surely my mom would notice and take care of getting me the help I needed. I just wanted to make it through the night to go home the next day to my familiar doctor.

The room shook. I looked around, startled, and noticed it was just me. I was suddenly freezing. I wrapped the fleece blanket and fluffy white comforter around myself and began to cry. There were so many new sensations I had never felt in my life and something was definitely wrong. I thought of my family, and I thought of the little girls I babysat. I hoped people would miss me if I wasn’t around anymore, but I also wanted them to be okay. I began thinking more about my own mortality and shook harder. My relationship with God wasn’t near where I wanted it to be. Now that I felt so delicate I wanted to be certain of what was going to happen to my soul. I prayed to God, asking for another chance at life. I was scared and I certainly didn’t feel ready.

The nightmare continued until the next morning.

I drifted off a few times until my heart beat or the uncontrollable shaking would wake me. I focused on my breathing, expecting it to stop at any second, but prayed it wouldn’t.

The next day we piled into the car and I tiredly leaned against the front window. My body was weak, but had made it through the night. Despite being exhausted and sick, I was very thankful that it was finally morning.

I noticed the rapid thudding in my chest and wondered whether I had some sort of new superpower in which I could recognize every single thing that was working in my body. Is it weird I’ve never noticed my heart beat before? I wondered to myself. I knew it shouldn’t constantly feel like I was running a marathon as I was sitting in the passenger seat, but I also knew I wasn’t dreaming and that terrible life-changing things just did not happen to me. My life was good. My life was normal. The biggest struggle I had going into college was actually coming up with a hardship to share in one of my school applications.


I didn’t know it then, but I wasn’t just sick with the flu or something that would go away after a week or two of bed rest. My life is forever changed, and I will share my experiences running from doctor to doctor and how I learned to cope with this new lifechanging news on Tuesday.