According to my new toy, the Fitbit Surge, my heart beats per minute were at 154 last night simply from anxiety.  My average, normal rate is about 70. 

 I have developed a keen interest in paying closer attention to my heart rate because Atrial Fibrilitation runs very strongly in our family as well as heart disease issues on both sides.  Yes, along with renal issues, diabetes, weight problems, alcoholism, depression, PTSD, blood pressure issues, COPD….reason 73 I don’t want to birth children out of this body.  The gene juju is very bad.    

Ever since developing anxiety I have been able to really feel palpitations and know when they don’t feel normal.  I now know what happens is some kind of tachycardia.  I even wound up in the hospital ER and kept for observation in the very early days of my PTSD.  They couldn’t find anything clinical but they definitely saw the blips I was feeling and they concluded it must be anxiety.  


But the physical aspects of anxiety do wear on the body so it’s something I think I need to pay attention to.  I had to take an anxiety pill last night.  I haven’t done that since flying and before that, it had been a few months.  That’s really good.

Now that I have one day back from vacation under my belt, I have a clearer sense of where this 154 bpm came from.  It’s not that I have a bad job.  I needed to clean up a bunch of emails, pay people and present at a meeting I wasn’t prepared for that I thought others took care of as they didn’t share 3 weeks ago that they too had conflicts.  That’s actually a perfectly usual and good day.  

I am waiting on some news which could be really good or really bad.  I have no control over it.  Just need to wait.  I have been waiting for news for the past 5 years now.  This is not a new conundrum.  It’s sewn into the pattern of my life quilt.  I am always on edge waiting for a phone call, email or text….especially when one email my mom sent to work years ago just said “accident” in the memo field.  I couldn’t immediately get to the part in the body where everyone was fine and they still got to the Bruins game because I was in meetings.  Or the time she called me 8 times one day and didn’t leave a message.  That usually means death.  On that day, it meant she wanted me to buy an ice cream cake for my brother.  I can’t win.

Got back to the gym tonight.  Killed it as usual so that’s done.  The dog slept all day on the couch so he’s fine.  I didn’t even look at the eclipse which I was worried about just because I am a clumsy person and unintentionally start zeroing in on anything I am told not to do.  It’s not like I am just trying to prove something.  I just think my wiring is inside out.

So what did my little heart get her panties in a wad about?  Me.  I love who I am when I am on vacation.  The clouds part, I see everything I need to see like every day is a perfect beach day.  I am learning.  I am relaxing.  I am challenging my body.  I enjoy my beer every day and make no apologies for it.  I am even open to relationship stuff I find harder to focus on when I am in my daily routine.  Meaning, I enjoy the idea of kicking back at a bar and talking for hours with no “routine” biting me in the ass, keeping me half focused and in a panic about what time it is or what texts I may be missing.  

I worry about me and how I might lose all that when returning from vacation – my inability to discipline myself to make lasting changes so that those vacation moments stay front of mind and become prioritized as they blend into my regimen.  If I don’t stay on top of it, the regimen takes over.  The heart hardens and becomes overly critical of anyone wanting more than an hour of my time.  It takes me months to finish a book so I can’t justify the hours I want to spend diving into a bookstore.  

It’s me I am afraid of.  And I am trying to get sugar back out of my system so that makes me much crankier.  The regimen is stronger than me and I am trying to fight it without sugar wafers.