Not okay

I am not okay.

I do not write this statement to alarm you.

Really just to inform you. And to bring your attention to something extraordinarily important.

I’d like to give a shoutout to my man. He is the most important person in my life and I don’t know what I would do without him.

I do not say that to hurt anyone’s feelings. I have a lot of very important people in my life, but they can not compare to my man. Here’s why:

I am not okay.

And Dino Gabriel Moncecchi has to deal with that.

If you ask him, I don’t think he would use the term “deal with that”. He’s a wonderful man who takes every single moment with me in stride. Nothing throws him off balance, nothing inconveniences him, nothing bothers him. He’s accepted his role as my significant other and that’s all there is to say about that.

Anyway… I am not okay.

Last night, at 11:53, I slid off the bed and crouched up tight in the small space between the bed and the wall. I fumbled around in the dark looking for my Moon Lamp (everyone needs one, get it here) so that I could have some light without waking the exhausted, hard working man, snoring heavily and deep in slumber. I felt the all too familiar feeling rising in my chest and I was desperate to stop it from coming. I played with the different lights on the lamp and found the one that often keeps the anxiety at bay.

It didn’t take me long for me to realize that my lamp would not be enough this time.

I fumbled around some more for the pills. Ahh the pills. The ones that I try very hard not to take because I don’t want to be that girl. 

At this point, I’m bawling. The tears have ran past my face and are now settling on my chest and even down to my legs. But I stay silent; I don’t want to disturb my dude. “He’s tired from working all day and I know he is getting up early to workout tomorrow. Don’t be selfish, Jasmine. Let him sleep.”

I can’t swallow the pill. I nearly choke and vomit on the first attempt. My chest is tight, I can’t breathe and I’m sweating.

I then stand up and make my way to the door. I know that if I don’t get out of the room, I’m going to wake up the sleeping angel in my bed, and I don’t want to bother him with such nonsense.

I walk to the bathroom, still silently crying, and take a look in the mirror. I love the color of my eyes once I’ve been crying, and the moment of vanity brings a split second of peace to my soul. I take a seat on the floor and the feeling begins to creep back up into my chest. I rock back and forth. I take deep breaths. I begin crying harder. I begin to feel nauseous. 

​It is at this point that I realize and accept that I am not going to be able to do this on my own.

At 12:00 am I walk back into the room and wake up my man. It takes him all of 2 seconds to realize that I am not okay and immediately he springs to action. Like a dog, having gentle constant pressure helps my anxiety, so he hugs me and continues to tell me that “it’s okay”. He reminds me that “he’s got me” and as simple as those 3 words are, I can not explain to you how important they are to me.

Another problem arises, however, and I can not catch my breath. I needed my inhaler as my asthma was about to come in full force. My hero retrieves it for me and continues to hug me in an attempt to relieve me of this anxiety attack. He hugs a little tighter now, realizing that this attack is a bad one. I believe that he has also figured out that I have been in this state of panic for longer than he has been made aware. 

Eventually, I calm down.

“What happened?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” I lie.

Why lie?

Because in that moment, I didn’t want to keep thinking about “it”, just in case I started to get worked up again. 

At 12:00 pm today, I called to do my “daily check in”. I apologize for waking him up just 12 hours before, to which he responds “it’s okay”.

How lucky am I?

It’s okay?

But aren’t you tired? Aren’t you tired of having to take care of a grown ass adult? How is it okay?

“What happened?” He asks again.

“I don’t know,” I lie again.

“Don’t know or don’t wanna say?” He’s caught me.

“Option 2”. And he drops it.

How lucky am I?

He doesn’t press. He doesn’t say I owe it to him to tell him what happened, after all he did for me in the middle of his sleeping.

He drops it.

I am not ready to talk about what is going on with me. It’s deep, it’s dark, it’s a little bit scary.

Dino Gabriel Moncecchi… thank you. My world can be dark from time to time and you always find a way to bring me some light. And no matter how dark it gets, no matter hard life gets, I know that I am going to be okay….

Because I’ve got you.