I planned to be productive today. I have a lot to accomplish and had true intentions of checking everything off my list by the end of the day. Within an hour of sitting at my desk it didn’t look like that was going to happen.
This past weekend was a bit rough. I encountered a trigger on Saturday night. Over the past six months or so I’ve gotten better with seeing babies and young families. However there still are times when I struggle quite a bit during an actual encounter and that night I think I saw a couple kids too many. I ended up crying myself to sleep. Then yesterday I had a bad swim and managed to get only four hours of sleep last night.
This morning I had a hard time focusing. Instead I found myself tired and thinking about tomorrow, the first anniversary of Noah’s passing. In a matter of minutes, I began recounting events leading up to his death. I have vivid images of his last day back in my head. Everything was so traumatic. I wouldn’t be surprised if I have post-traumatic stress disorder from being in the CICU. Tears began to well up, and I started crying. I decided I need to get my mind elsewhwere. I immediately thought of doing something physical. I originally planned to train later in the day but at that moment I didn’t think twice about switching my schedule around. (Besides I threw my schedule out the window already anyway.) So in almost a robotic fashion, I stood up, grabbled my bag and walked to the gym.
Working out today didn’t put me in a good mood but it helped me get through a low point for now.