The Day I Broke

I didn't think it could ever happen to me. I thought I was unbreakable, invincible almost. I mean, that’s what everyone always told me all of my life. “Cynthia, you’re the strongest person I know!” “Cynthia, I never see you cry!” I hated walking with that burden on my shoulders, but I carried it, until I couldn’t any longer.

It was 9/6/16, the 10th anniversary of my son Kaden’s death, I opened my eyes in the morning, and I felt paralyzed. I had been in a bad place for months, I was barely eating, and sleep was nonexistent. I was the thinnest I had ever been in my life, and it didn’t look good on me. I was also in my third discard phase with my boyfriend at the time. (Who I later discovered was a malignant narcissist–that’s a whole other story for a different time). My daughters had already left for school, and I was home alone. All I could do was sob. My mind was racing, and the thoughts consumed me. I thought about my childhood, being raised by a single mom, never knowing my father, struggling as a teen mom, and being on my own since 17, my failed marriage, the passing of my son from SIDS, all the years I was a single mom raising three girls with no support, and the numerous toxic relationships I had after my marriage ended. The only thing I felt I excelled at, at the time, was my career. Somehow, I always managed to hold that together. Yet still, I felt like a complete failure.

The thoughts continued to race, I felt worthless. I never felt so alone in my life. My chest tightened, my vision was blurred, and I kept sobbing. I felt like I was going to die. I had no clue what was happening to me. Whatever it was, I couldn’t control it. Then it hit me. I was having a panic attack. I had no clue what to do, where to go, who to talk to. The closest relative to me was over 1,000 miles away. I was literally all alone. Hours passed, and I was in the same state. By this time, my daughters arrived home from school and discovered the horrible condition I was in. I was so ashamed and embarrassed. I contacted my sister, who is a nurse, and she urged me to contact a therapist. I gathered myself and began to research local therapists. I made a list and started making phone calls. I was either sent to voicemail or there were no appointments available that day. I was desperate. I needed help THAT day. I went out on a limb and called my primary care physician, and he saw me immediately. He confirmed that what I experienced was a panic attack, and that I was in severe depressive state combined with anxiety. He prescribed me anti-anxiety medication and referred me to a therapist who was able to see me the next day.

I had never been to therapy before. I wasn’t sure how a strange person who knew nothing about me, would be able to help me. The next day, I walked into her office, and it was just like it is in the movies. A very quiet space with a couch and a tissue box placed in the center of the coffee table. I sat down on that couch, and there my therapy journey began. She agreed with my doctor’s diagnosis. She also mentioned that she believed I could be a codependent. She gave me lots of homework and reading to do, and I dived right in. I read every book I could about codependency, anxiety, depression, and narcissist abuse. It wasn’t until therapy that I discovered I was in an extremely emotionally abusive relationship.

Although it would take many months of work, therapy and medication, calling my PCP and walking into that therapist’s office, were two of the best decisions I’ve ever made in my life. During the process, I not only discovered I was being emotionally abused, but also there were so many open wounds I had never addressed. I discovered that although I pretended to be confident, I was neglecting myself. I learned how to love myself unconditionally, how to set boundaries and do mindfulness techniques. I left that abusive relationship a few months later and continued my journey to healing all on my own. It has been two years since that day I broke, and I’ve put myself back together. I am the happiest I’ve ever been. I’ve come to realize that peace and happiness is a decision, a mental state–not just a feeling. Although I am physically alone, I am not alone. There is always help there. There are a lot of things I can’t control, but I understand now that I’m responsible for my own healing.

Cynthia J. Campbell, Program Manager