A Little Absence, A Lot of Truth

First off, I owe you an apology.
I know I’ve been a little absent.
Life happened, a lot of it and I wasn’t sure I wanted to bring that into this space. I’ve always wanted this blog to feel upbeat, honest, and true to who I am. But as I’ve moved through the last couple of years, I’ve realized that maybe sharing what I’ve been dealing with could help someone else… or at the very least, remind someone to listen to themselves.
Because I didn’t.
About two years ago, in December, I experienced something called SVT aka supraventricular tachycardia. Fancy words for “your heart decides to sprint when no one told it to.” It’s not fun.
Ironically, when it started, I thought my watch was broken.
No pain. No discomfort. No dramatic clutching of my chest. Just heartburn and a Fitbit telling me my heart rate was doing things it absolutely should not have been doing. I honestly thought, Wow, technology really is unreliable sometimes.
That morning, I had taken my son to the doctor to review his meds. While sitting there, I remember telling him, “I feel a little off.” But I didn’t say anything to the doctor because the sign clearly says one issue at a time, and that appointment wasn’t about me.
So, naturally, I went to work.
I mentioned it to my boss… jokingly. We tried to find our pulses. She found hers. I couldn’t find mine. We laughed. Because humour is my coping mechanism, and denial is apparently my superpower.
By about 1:00, I knew something wasn’t right. I was exhausted. Still no pain, just off. I went home and had a three-hour nap. When I woke up, my heart rate was sitting at 190 bpm.
At that point, my mom and I had a discussion. In our family, if you can’t fix it with superglue and a Band-Aid, you take it to the hospital. But we also didn’t want to sit in emergency for six hours if my watch was just broken, so we went to a walk-in clinic instead.
I wasn’t there for more than 20 minutes before the doctor very aggressively, not yelling, but close, told me I needed to get my butt to the hospital. He was not interested in having someone die on his table.
Fair.
When I walked into the ER, they thought I was there visiting someone. I looked fine. I wasn’t flushed, shaking, or in pain. Then they checked my vitals… and suddenly everyone was running.
It was a lot more serious than I ever imagined.
They had to restart my heart, basically reset it so it would beat normally again. Because I had waited so long to get checked, I ended up spending a week in the hospital undergoing tests to make sure I hadn’t permanently damaged my heart.
Eventually, I was released. I’m now under the care of a cardiologist, I’ve had a wild amount of testing, and honestly? I still don’t have all the answers.
What I do have is perspective.
It was terrifying, not just for me, but for my kids, my family, and even my ex-husband, who I co-parent with very well. It hit all of us with the realization that I could have been gone.
And that’s a scary thought.
As if that wasn’t enough, life kept piling on. I broke my foot. Ended up in a cast. And now I’m booked for emergency surgery. It’s been a lot, all at once.
I was finally getting back to being the mom I want to be, and suddenly it felt like a massive setback. I won’t lie, I’ve been depressed. It feels like being back at square one, and I hate it.
But here’s the thing.
There have been good things too.
My ex and I have grown closer. We’ve realized that no matter what our relationship looks like, we need to be a unit. Our kids need that. And honestly, I don’t know if we would’ve reached that realization without all of this happening.
I’ve also learned something huge:
To take care of my kids, I have to take care of myself.
I’ve talked before about finding your purpose, finding your path but none of that matters if you don’t listen to your body. And please, listen to your body. I learned later that women are more likely to die from heart-related issues because we don’t show the same symptoms and we don’t show up when something feels off.
I waited seven hours.
So yes. I believe it.
I want to be an advocate for women, especially those around my age. I was 41. Heart issues are not just an “old people problem.” They happen to real people, busy people, moms who put themselves last.
Don’t blame it on your Fitbit.
Funny enough, my Fitbit actually saved my life, even though I ignored it at first.
Even now, while I’m dealing with a broken foot, upcoming surgery, and a bit of a depression slump, I know the positive: I finally understand what I need to do to be here for as long as I’m meant to be.
That means taking control of my health, my diet, my habits, my stress, all of it.
So please, men and women, listen to yourselves. Listen to that little voice in your head. If you’d take your child to the hospital for something, why wouldn’t you take yourself?
Your kids deserve you.
They deserve you present.
And honestly you deserve that too.
This blog is heavier than usual, but I wanted to explain why I’ve been absent. Today feels like the first real step out of my little depression hole and back into the light.
I might still dip a toe back in now and then healing isn’t linear but I promise there’s more happy than not.
Thanks for sticking with me.
Have a great day.