Simply Misunderstood XO

On this day two years ago (January 3, 2024), I started my day with a 100+ heart rate simply just getting out of bed. I slowly made my way to the bathroom before deciding if I needed to go to the emergency room to make sure I wasn’t having a heart attack.

I was 29 years old. How did I get here!? Let’s back up a little…

Throughout the year of 2023 (approximately starting in March/April) through 2024 (literally even through Christmas and New Year’s Eve), there were a series of events that were triggering stress and anxiety. It was building on top of each other without the proper release and healing… and I had no clue.

I’ll spare you some of the details, but a stressful breakup led to grief and loss. Frustration from being overworked and underpaid led to extreme burnout. Loneliness transformed into crippling anxiety — always wanting to be doing something, minimizing my time alone with my thoughts.

As all of this was building up, it started with a feeling of depression.
I would cry for no reason and feel so confused.

I didn’t know why I wasn’t happy because, in many aspects, I had a pretty good life.

Then it mixed with grief and a ball of anxiety, until eventually I had physical symptoms.
(TMI for the internet honestly, but let’s just say this: I lived off bread, rice, and pancakes for 2–3 weeks and lost nearly 15 lbs.)

I thought I was going to be okay. Being around family during Christmas gave me comfort, but my body was already wreaking havoc. It was nice to have support, and I was able to nurse myself back to a sense of slight optimism.

I was excited for a new year to start and told myself I was going to get back to feeling like I did during the pandemic (honestly, I was in my prime physically and mentally then because of all the time I had to spend on myself).

I guess it was too late.

Because on January 2, 2024, I started living in fight or flight. I actually felt calmer than I had been, laying in bed trying to fall asleep — but I was terrified that my heart rate was as high as it would be if I were working out… and all I was doing was laying there.

I remember staying up until 2am on the phone with my aunt, trying to feel like I wasn’t alone (luckily she lived in Colorado, so the time difference helped). I didn’t really talk to anybody about it except her at the time. I don’t think I would’ve gotten through that night without her.

Somehow, I managed to stay calm long enough to fall asleep — but it wasn’t very restful sleep.

Which brings us back to January 3, 2024, when I woke up to my heart rate at 100+. I drove myself to urgent care, and they couldn’t do anything for me because I didn’t have an appointment (gotta love healthcare in America…). They told me I could go to the emergency room if I felt like I was having trouble breathing.

Thank GOD I wasn’t. That was my only saving grace. Otherwise, I would’ve gone into full-blown panic mode right then and there.

As I made my way to the car to decide what to do next, I called my primary care doctor to see if she had any appointments available. She didn’t that day, but she did the next day. So I took it. Better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it.

While I was on the phone explaining my symptoms to the receptionist, she said, “I think you’re having a panic attack. Do you have a paper bag nearby?”

Of course, that made me panic even more.

I’d never reached this point of panic…that I couldn’t control myself. My heart is racing right now just writing this.
Everything comes flooding back.

I was able to calm myself down enough to get off the phone and call my dad. He knew what was happening because I had told him I was going to urgent care. Being an hour and a half away, there wasn’t much he could do — but he offered to come stay with me until my appointment if I wanted.

I was scared to say yes and ask for help.
We didn’t have that kind of relationship.

But when he asked in such a serious, concerning tone, “Melissa, would you feel better if I was there?”

All I could do — as my eyes started to well up with tears — was mutter, “YES,” and start bawling my eyes out.

That was the turning point.

That entire year, I focused on working on myself and doing less. I backed off from work and did the bare minimum. I started doing mental health activities I actually enjoyed — meditation, reading, exercising, journaling. And for the first time since my mom died, I went to therapy.

I was too young to understand what therapy really did back then. I vaguely remember how it made me feel, but I knew I didn’t enjoy going. Now I realize the therapist just wasn’t the right fit.

But it was my therapist who saved me this time.

Would I have gotten through it without her? Probably — I have an incredible support system. But it was so much more tolerable having her guidance and support. That, paired with eliminating stressors in my life and learning how to adjust to my “new normal,” helped me get through what was probably the second toughest year of my life — and the toughest of my adult life.

I always thought I had a profound sense of wisdom at a young age, but the truth is, you can’t learn what you don’t experience. This experience reshaped my perspective on life and personal growth in ways I never could have learned otherwise.

I thought I had stories to share back then. But in the past two years, I’ve gained so much more to say — and I think I can relate to a lot more people now.

I want to use 2026 to dive back into this page and my writing again, because it helps me more than I realize. The goal of this page was always to bring comfort to those who felt alone or misunderstood in ways they thought no one else could relate to.

So on this day, January 3, 2026 (wow, weird writing that), I just want to reflect on how far I’ve come in these past two years.

If you’re in a dark place, ask for help. I truly thought I would never feel normal again. I thought I would always be anxious. That I’d never be able to eat real food or live my life the way I used to. And I was wrong. Everything I’ve been working on and learning slowly brought me back to myself — and I’m excited to start sharing some of that with you again.

Here’s to 2026. I keep seeing that 2025 was the year of the snake — and honestly? I’m done shedding. I’m ready to step fully into the person I’ve become, not just survive anymore.

Who’s with me!?

Follow along on my Instagram!