We’re All Just One Mental Breakdown Away
How a former judgemental bitch joined the fight against the stigma of anxiety.
I just gave up.
I’m embarrassed, ashamed, and afraid that I’ve let my kids and family down.
I’ve been staying in a hotel room waiting for my Airbnb apartment to become available, and I was due to start my first travel X-ray tech assignment this morning. I emailed my recruiter at 2 am — with whom I’d been in contact and preparing for this assignment for the past month — and told her I couldn’t do it.
I’m going back home.
I was supposed to work for three months at the local hospital in a small town in Indiana — almost 1000 miles away from my home in Ft. Lauderdale. I haven’t worked full-time in quite a while and needed the money to catch up on bills and pay my mother’s rent. One assignment would have been enough for me to cover her for six months. It appeared to be a great gig.
At 1 am, unable to calm my mind from the fear of going back to work in a hospital and the uncertainty of my skills after so long, I began to hear the familiar thump of my heart inside my chest. My sight went dark as I lay in bed struggling to regain control of my equilibrium, and the world began to fade.
