I named my drive from Florida to New England “Redemption Ride 2023.” It was the first “big thing” I did solo since my accident. It was also my first time going back “home” since moving south in 2021.
I stayed with friends and family along the way, which was lovely. A few days in a hotel near my old NH farm allowed me to see old friends and visit one of the horses we rehomed. He got a smooch and scratch on the withers. Then, a good friend and I drove home together, stopped to see her daughter in Washington, DC, and scoped out areas in the Carolinas for future house shopping.
Revisiting my past triggered me to compare life in New Hampshire to life in Florida. The contrast was stark. The losses experienced in our new Florida home made the NH farm life we had to leave seem idyllic.
It had been a month and a day since returning home, and I was gravely out of sorts. I was beginning to distrust the calendar. How could it already be that long since I had returned?
Still reeling from it all, I had not returned to the comfort of a routine. Knowing the upcoming months were splattered with trips, and my routine would be challenged again, my ambition sank. I neglected daily habits that kept me grounded: exercise, stretching, reading, journaling, and praying. These had proven critical by their absence on my trip.
I expected to feel relief and joy after returning from my trip. However, I was distracted and disinterested. I felt WAY off course. Not only did I not feel at “home,” I didn’t want to be there at all. I missed my solo hotel room.
I slacked in everything. There was no motivation to work out on my rebounder, which I loved. I ate crap food, not caring how it made me feel. I didn’t engage with my dogs. Then, I felt guilty for not engaging with my dogs, for eating crap food, and neglecting my rebounder. News stories cited panic. I grumbled about having no alone time. Showers were daunting. I was NOT myself.
Then, meteorologists forecasted Hurricane Ian.
The day before Ian was to land, our generator wouldn’t start. I asked my husband to test it days before, which he hadn’t done. Now, it wasn’t running. He enlisted help from friends once again at the last minute. On top of that, we had a horse, Dusty, that we needed to find shelter for ASAP, with little to no options.
This all set me off. I was embarrassed, frustrated, and now scared. Visions of summer Florida temperatures without a/c or electricity and water pouring into our garage played in my head. I pictured poor Dusty in a driving storm, alone, wet, and shaking. I was on a shrinking island alone with no one to help keep me safe as a storm encroached.
I was in a bad way.
On the day of Ian, I woke up lightheaded and bodily shaky. I’d heard low blood sugar could do that, but mine was fine (I keep a test kit at home because of my inconsistent blood sugar). As the day unfolded, the feeling that I had to get out of the house grew. Too impatient to wait for life-saving friends to get the generator going and tired of calling to find Dusty proper housing, I thought I might explode.
My heart pounded out of my chest into my head. I didn’t like how “effed up” I felt. Deciding to go to the grocery store for a few “hurricane” things we needed, I wanted to “get the hell out of dodge” before I blew a gasket in front of people.
With the volume cranked high, typically a saving grace for me, I exited our Florida community. Once on the two-lane, I was suddenly aware of the space around and in my head. It was dizzying. I couldn’t breathe—or couldn’t breathe normally. Something as natural as taking in air felt utterly unnatural.
It was like a dark spirit got inside me. It took hold without my awareness. Things were distorted. I was freezing up and shutting down. Subconscious fear and panic took over my internal systems. Dread threatened every mental crevice.
It was terrifying.
“I remember this.” The thought washed over me like cold water.
I battled panic attacks years prior. Remembering their debilitation threatened more panic. It took everything I had to keep breathing in and out.
I wanted to scream but was afraid if I let it go, I’d lose control. I saw myself in a violent breakdown on the side of the road. Visions of ambulances and men in white coats coming to take me away almost made me laugh. I had hit a wall.
It’s times like these that I think of my mom. We had our differences and drove each other crazy, but I realize now our deep, accepting, and understanding love surpassed all, eclipsing any difficulties between us—something I miss deeply.
I grabbed my phone and called my sisters, something I had done more recently in times of desperation, which seemed plentiful. Truthfully, there was no one else to call.
They talked me off the ledge. When I got to the grocery store, I was breathing more normally. Sitting in my car, with my finger on the phone camera for the heart rate app, I read the result. My heart rate was 155.
“I’m going to have a heart attack,” I thought. Right then and there! My dad had a few mild heart attacks in his forties. My super-in-shape brother had one at fifty-three. Surely, this was my fate.
Breathing exercises and reciting scripture lowered the rate to 74. My head began to feel normal again. I ventured into the store, shortlist in hand, meandering around the produce section. The longer I shopped, the more I felt like my old self.
It occurred to me that I had been isolating in the house since returning from my adventure. I thought I was content staying inside, looking at a screen as though searching for an answer, while the issues I ignored caused anxieties to swirl and billow deep inside.
Back at home, I opened up to my husband about what happened- the disorientation, physical effects, overwhelming fear. We had a raw conversation about my anxieties, fears, and mental state. My primary doctor set an appointment and offered resources for additional support. Sharing my struggles was both humbling and freeing, humiliating and encouraging.
For the next few days, we rode out the hurricane, put the house back together, moved Dusty, and considered the busy fall season and our future in general. If we prepared for another major life shift, big things could happen. The thought of another monumental change was daunting but necessary. Florida had not been good for us.
I returned to reading scripture daily, watching inspirational sermons, reading, studying, and journaling frequently. I did all I could to put the stones of my faith foundation back together. They had been shaken out of place pretty hard. And as the ground beneath my feet began resurfacing, I got out of the house and back into the world. I was patting and playing with my dogs and feeling closer to "normal" once again. Hope returned.
Anxiety, depression, and mental health issues are scary and should always be taken seriously. Seeing my heart rate spike the way it did and how disoriented I became that day was a wake-up call. It was clear that the losses, injuries, and upheavals of the past few years had taken a toll on me.
Managing our environment is crucial to a healthy state of mind. I am a huge proponent of therapy and was lucky to have a fantastic mental health practitioner. I utilized her extensively over the next few months. I immersed myself in things that fed my faith. I ate better and moved my body daily. All those things, in concert, got me back on my feet.
Redemption Ride 2023 and the two months following taught me many important things. They showed me what I do and don’t need, made me see boundaries I had to keep and ones to push, and showed me who I needed to surround myself with and distance myself from.
In that chapter of life, as I searched for another new place to put down roots and carve out a new, fulfilling lifestyle, the most important thing I did was to be honest with myself. Recognizing I was sputtering forced me to prioritize self-care. It was a great, albeit scary, lesson that led to securing the tools I need to repair and rebuild part of the bridge back to my true self.
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