CPR

Last week I had to get my recertification for CPR. I’ve been solidly certified in CPR since the age of 12, when it was a requirement for me to get my first babysitting job. The importance of it was not lost on me, so every 2 years I made sure to renew my certification.

In case of an emergency, I WAS READY.

Until I wasn’t.

You know when you are on an airplane and you’re seated by the emergency exit, and they ask you if you will be ready and able to open that door and guide people to safety? In your head you absolutely know you’ll be the star of the show and save everyone. Let me just tell you, no the fuck you won’t . Or maybe that’s just me.

In case of an emergency, I panicked. In case of an emergency, I couldn’t remember how the actual fuck to do CPR.

I’ve attempted to get my recertification in CPR 4 times since that night. Each time ended the same way… guilt, panic, and avoidance. I left the class and let myself off the hook.

I went into this last class with the same expectation. However, my instructor was having NONE of my shit. I told her my situation before the class started. She listened, sympathized and said :

‘Do you want to move past this and pass, or do you want to dwell? I’ll support either decision, but if you choose to pass, I’m going to make damn sure you do, and that means I will check your feelings at the door.’

I took the damn leap and trusted her enough to help me see it through. For the sake of transparency, and the promise I made to myself to be completely vulnerable with my truth, I’ll tell you this- I was counting on her to let me off the hook too. There was something inside of me that desperately needed someone else to validate that I COULD NOT correctly administer CPR. I was allowing my common sense, to waiver with my confidence.

It fucking sucked. I cried the entire time and apologized to the CPR dummy for not being able to save him. When you watch someone traumatically die, your body will forever carry those same feelings into any situation that reminds your brain of that trauma. PTSD sits your ass right back into the situation you experienced and your poor brain can’t make the distinction between past trauma and your current reality. Naturally, your body is going to try and protect itself and that’s when shit gets super messy. You associate the past with the present. In my head, that CPR dummy was my husband. Knowing the end result of my first attempt, my brain tried to nope all the way outta there. I didn’t want to relive that. I told my instructor that I needed to be done. I couldn’t do this. It hurt too much to relive.

She gave zero fucks about my feelings and pushed me all the way through it. Which is exactly what I asked her to do before we started. When I wanted to bail, she made me stay.

Sometimes feeling your feelings will hurt like hell.

Sometimes you have to feel them to move forward.

The only way out is through.

Thanks Tiffany ❤️

Until next time

~A