Anxiety and Me

Well, friends, I had a completely different blog planned for this week, but as the saying goes “If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.” Our family got thrown for a loop this week, nothing dangerous or inherently bad, just something unexpected that has made us have to reevaluate some things. As I discussed last week, I am not great with change, and it causes me anxiety, and this particular change has my anxiety through the roof. Thus, that is what I am driven to write about today: anxiety and its role in my life.

Anxiety and I have been linked for a long, long time. I don’t know when I first started experiencing it, but I’d estimate it started peaking around the time I was in middle school. In 8^th grade, I was a mess. I know those years are turbulent for almost everyone, but that period of time was when I remember just feeling as though nothing was in my control. I wasn’t officially diagnosed with anxiety until a very scary incident when I was a senior in high school. I’d been told I had asthma, and one day, as I was experiencing what I thought was an asthma attack, I went to bathroom and used my inhaler. Almost instantly, my heart was racing out of control, I was sweating, faint and extremely lightheaded. I honestly thought I was going to die, right there in my high school. I was walked up to the office, leaning heavily on my friend, and the school nurse was called. Needless to say, the whole experience was terrifying, and embarrassing to boot. My mother took me to the doctor, and soon I had a new diagnosis: depression and anxiety. No more inhaler, but instead an antidepressant and an anti-anxiety medication. Now, depression is a whole other beast, one in which I’ll cover later, but I will say that the two diseases, at least in my case, do tend to feed on one another. However, I tend to suffer more from anxiety than the depression, though I have battled both off and on since I was first diagnosed at 18 (though I feel it does indeed go back years farther, but that’s another story).

There have been times, like my senior year of high school, when my anxiety has been almost unbearable. There have been days where I’ve had panic attacks so bad that it seemed there would be no end to them. There’s truly not many things worse than a full on panic attack. I liken it to an elephant sitting square on your chest, squeezing the breath out of you, until you honestly can’t breathe. At least, that’s what your brain tells you. So you hyperventilate, trying to get the one thing that is evading you: air. For me at least, the pressure builds in my chest and throat and it physically hurts. My hands shake, I have trouble breathing. My heart races. The worst thing? These things come out of absolutely nowhere, and disarm you before you even know there’s a battle. They leave you shaken, exhausted, and scared. I wouldn’t wish such a thing on my worst enemy. Dealing with it knowing the tools of how to calm them is one thing. Dealing with them without those tools? Pure terror.

For me, anxiety is not just one thing. It’s not just panic attacks, or the equally stressful but less scary anxiety attacks (those come on slower, but share some of the same symptoms). I worry, obsessively about things that most people don’t even think twice about. If I ask someone to call me when they get home, and they don’t, my mind ALWAYS jumps to the worst possible scenario without fail. If there’s a test I have to take, I automatically assume I’m going to fail. If I am meeting someone for the first time, I automatically think they will hate me, or judge me, or think that I am stupid. I question every single thing that I do, a hundred times, wondering if it’s the right decision. I run every single conversation I have with people over and over, wondering if I said the wrong thing. It’s an endless loop, all the time.

And then there’s nighttime. I don’t sleep well. It takes me at least 45 minutes or longer every night to even get to sleep. My brain whirs, replying things from 16 years ago that most people would think are insignificant, which they are, but for me, they are cringeworthy moments flashing through my mind. I think up the best, the worst, and every other scenario in between about any and everything. For instance, Scoot has a field trip soon. Her first. My thoughts go something like this: Will she have fun? Will she behave? Will she be safe on the bus? How will her teachers keep track of all those children? What if the bus crashes? What if she gets hurt? What if she gets separated somehow from her class? What if someone takes her? What if? Once I force myself to move on, sternly reminding myself that she will be fine, have a great time, and everything will be okay, my traitorous mind then moves on to the next thing to obsess over. The cycle is never ending. Even when I do get to sleep, I may have dreams. Horribly vivid dreams, depicting those I love dying or getting hurt, while I stand helpless. Those images haunt me in my waking hours.

I keep saying my anxiety because everyone is different. Everyone that battles anxiety has a version that is all their own, and they will develop different skills to combat it. There is no single, cookie cutter cure for anxiety. It’s not as easy as “oh, don’t think like that” or “take a breath, it’s okay.” It’s literally doing battle with your own mind. I get very upset that people think you can simply snap out of being anxious, or when they assume that you only are anxious in social situations. Yes, I have some of that as well (I hate being thrust into situations where I don’t know anyone) but I’ve learned that things like that are going to happen. Anxiety is multifaceted, and it’s difficult to control, even at the best of times. At the worst, it is your very worst nightmare. It is your own mind telling you that all of your worst fears will come true, and there’s nothing you can do about it. It is your mind telling you that people don’t like you, that you don’t measure up, that all the bad things you’ve ever thought about yourself are true. If good things happen to you, you even feel unworthy, as though you don’t deserve them. All because your brain is telling you so. Think about that. The same force that is keeping you alive, telling your heart to beat, and your lungs to inflate, is telling you that you are not worthy.

I think that is what most people don’t understand about anxiety. It’s not just one thing, or social situations. There are a million different triggers, and those triggers are different for different people. Anxiety isn’t a switch that you can just turn off. It is a daily, sometimes minute by minute, battle to live your life without your mind telling you that things are going to go wrong, and get out of control. Times of stress can validate those voices in your mind, reiterating these negative thoughts, and make it even harder to stay ahead of your anxiety. While positive thinking and breathing techniques can help, and I am not knocking them, they don’t work for every person. They also don’t help in every situation. So simply suggesting someone that is struggling with anxiety to “cheer up” or “think happy thoughts” isn’t going to help. In fact, I’ve found that in my case, when I am truly struggling, those comments can make it even worse. I don’t want to think negatively. I don’t want to have these horrible thoughts in my head, but I can’t control them. All I can do is tell myself, sometimes over and over, that these thoughts and worries are unfounded, and go on about my day. In so many ways, I’m lucky. Though I have my moments where I have a very difficult time, my anxiety is mostly controlled. So many people don’t have that luxury, and every day is wrought with overwhelming feelings of fear and pressure and panic. Anxiety is a marathon, where the finish line is consistently moved farther and farther away, and you are always struggling to keep up.

The stigma attached to mental illness also bothers me. So many people see anxiety and depression as weakness, but that is simply bullshit, to put it bluntly. There is nothing harder in this world than doing daily battle with your mind to combat anxiety and depression. It takes so many tools, like positive affirmations, breathing techniques, and a great support system. It’s mental fortitude and an understanding doctor. It’s learning what works for you, and what doesn’t. Sometimes, it’s medication to help stabilize yourself and to cope with the nastier effects of anxiety. Living with anxiety is a tightrope act, and there is absolutely no shame in asking for help when you need it, or being on medication. If you are suffering through anxiety, instead of seeing yourself as weak, consider yourself a warrior, because you are. After all, the very force that keeps you alive is tricking you into thinking that you are in danger, or unworthy, or that you are inherently unlikeable. Having the strength to tell your mind “no”, and fight through that is not only impressive, it’s brave. Know that you aren’t alone, and that there are many, many people that will understand. Don’t feel as though you have to suffer alone. Remind yourself that you ARE worthy. You ARE important. You are NOT weak. You will find your way, no matter how hard it seems at times.

I hope this gives a bit of insight as to what goes on daily in my mind. I don’t claim to be any sort of expert on the subject (or anything else I write about, except maybe boybands!) but as someone that has dealt with anxiety for a long time, I do have intimate knowledge of what living with it is like. The next few weeks in our world are going to be fraught with stress, so I am fully expecting my issues with anxiety to amp up, but that’s okay. I have a wonderful family and friends that are going to help me through the worst of it. I’m going to do my darndest to keep on the same schedule of posting every week, but the next few weeks are going to be a challenge. Bear with me, friends. Now I’m going back to listening to The Greatest Showman soundtrack for the millionth time (today). Until next time!