To say I’ve fallen off the blogging wagon would be an obvious understatement.

Every once in a while, this happens, where I just check out of the interwebs. I’ve been absent on the Twitter as well (and my Klout score has suffered accordingly. Yet I’m not so upset about that.)

This is one of those times where I’ve really just needed to focus on me. Try to get myself back in order.

I should begin at the (sort of) beginning.

Since around the time of a few months before BlogHer, my anxiety started spiraling out of control. Prior to BlogHer, I kind of didn’t realize it as much. I was blaming my constant tummy butterflies and on-edge feeling on my hectic schedule, work, getting ready to get in a tin can and fly to San Diego to hang out with a bunch of internet besties, and trying to take care of a toddler that was sick ALL OF THE TIME. That’s all it was. NERVES.

Then, my first night at BlogHer I had a full on panic attack. While at dinner. I had to leave right as our meal was served because I was convinced I was going to barf on a table with something like 14 people seated at it. I left the restaurant and walked back to our hotel alone, feeling like I was going to explode out of my skin, throw up and pass out all at the same time. I called the hubs who talked me down from feeling like I was going to die, and eventually got back to the hotel room, put on my jammies and turned on the TV. (Lucky for me True Blood was on. Vampire Eric for the relaxation win.)

I realized then and there that my anxiety had officially gotten out of control, and that I was suffering from it almost daily. I could actually talk myself into a mild panic attack just by recounting previous panic attacks. (In fact, I’m getting lightheaded just typing this.) I had to do something. Thinking about Abby getting a cold again made me want to get in my car and leave and never come back. Like, ever. Because I just couldn’t deal. I knew I couldn’t be the mother and wife I should be and feel that way at the same time.

I talked to my therapist for the first time since March. After listening to me talk for a while, she looked me straight in the eye and calmly said, “Jenna, I think maybe it’s time to think about taking some medication.”

Ever since I started seeing her back in July of 2010, when I was dealing with some postpartum depression, it was evident I also had some anxiety issues. However, I was able to combat those AND my feelings of depression quite well with therapy and mental exercises. I was proud of myself. I didn’t need medication. I didn’t want medication. I was able to beat this on my own.

I never wanted to take medication. It felt like…defeat. That was just it, though. At this point my anxiety was winning. I was feeling defeated. I had to do something.

She recommended a psychologist she’d worked with in the past (as she is unable to prescribe meds herself.) I met with the psychologist and we talked about my past and my current issues with anxiety. She discussed different medications and then told me what she would recommend for me, and why. My fears of taking medication were, for the most part, quelled. The fact that there are medicines out there that can stop a panic attack dead in it’s tracks? Unbelievable to me. And totally awesome. And how sad I didn’t do this sooner when I’d been suffering, because I was too proud to admit I wasn’t in control anymore.

I’ve been on medication for two weeks now. It will take up to eight weeks before I should feel the full effects. Some of the side effects have been difficult, but are diminishing as time wears on.

Just knowing that I will be better, that I will feel normal, is so huge. That I don’t have to feel out of control anymore, and know I’ll be able to deal with minor stress without my brain exploding.

It’s been a rough couple of months in our house.

Things are looking up.

And I promise to be around more often.

Promise.