The body remembers what the mind forgets

On February 25, I was sure I would never feel happy or healthy again. A heavy despondency sat on my chest, keeping me anchored in bed long after the alarm I'd set because I knew I had to boost myself outside today. Finally, I rose to an empty house. Filtered sunlight cast strange shadows on the hardwood floor. Beat was in Alaska, set to start the Iditarod Trail Invitational the following day. It was a stressful few days after his flight was canceled, followed by high winds and a storm that meant he only escaped Colorado by the skin of his teeth. 

I'd been in survival mode since I drove home from Kanab on February 20. It was my second week on Lexapro. My doctor urged me to double the dose, which only seemed to double the terrible side effects — constant nausea, feeling so dizzy I had difficulty jogging, and some of the worst anxiety I'd experienced. My sleep was continuously interrupted by nightmares about mass shooters, and where did that even come from? That's not part of my trauma. O…