That morning I awoke with an uneasy sense of urgency in the pit of my stomach.  Working from home, I had back-to-back meetings,  my husband was on a work trip, and I was flying solo with the kids. 

I knew, if I did not make the most of every second, I would find myself working late into the evening to catch up.

I roused the children, made their lunch, and fed them breakfast before dropping them off at school.

On the way back I noted I was racked with anxiety, my tummy was churning, my shoulders stiff with tension, my head ached, it wasn’t even nine o’clock yet.

I pulled over,  my heart pounding in my ears, and a sense of impending doom saturated my being.  My legs were weak and shaking as I began pacing along the hard shoulder, diligently trying to ignore the restrictive tightness in my chest while I sucked as much air into my lungs as possible.

I sat back in my car, took my phone in my hand, and typed a text message to my boss. “I need a mental health day,  see you tomorrow.”

Suddenly, my schedule was free. Now! to call my doctor.