We Don't Talk About That

The thing that so many of us suffer from, and yet we all feel alone in our suffering. I've talked about mental illness in the past and my own struggles with it. I'm generally pretty open about what I've gone through and I don't mind talking about it. It's been on my mind a little extra lately for many reasons. I've been thinking about how to put into words what I've been feeling.

I've had many people tell me that I just need to "get over it" or "just find something to take your mind off of it"... "Just getting over it" is not possible, and taking your mind off of it is a lot harder than you'd think. I also get a lot of people telling me new things I should try to "cure my anxiety"... I'm not sure that's possible, and to be completely honest... I don't think I want to be cured (I will circle back to this later).

I mainly want to focus on anxiety. I have depression, but nothing compares to my anxiety. I once compared depression to drowning and anxiety to being burned alive. The thought of drowning is terrifying and I feel like I'm suffocating just thinking about it... Which is also what my depression does to me. But I fear the fire way more. 

Let me explain how an episode generally goes for me... Anywhere up to three days prior, something can happen that can trigger it (sometimes I have NO idea what triggered it and those panic attacks are always the worst. How do you fight something when you have zero idea what you're fighting?) I will focus on that trigger or whatever it is that my mind has created for me and I will not be able to think of anything else. I then start thinking of worst case scenarios. I try to tell myself that it's impossible and I try to use logic. Doesn't help. There is ALWAYS that What If? And sure, right now, when I'm in a sane state of mind, I know that I'm being highly unrealistic. But you could never EVER convince me otherwise when my anxiety is acting up. I will nod at you, walk away, and continue to panic internally. I eventually work myself into such a state that I am hyperventilating and crying. Not many things can bring me out of that. Just time. I will eventually tire myself out. Luckily, there is usually someone with me to make me put my head between my knees or coach me into deep breathing. I always need a xanex. I hate to admit that. But I can't pull myself out of it--even with help from loved ones. That may make you see me as weak... Until you have been where I have been and felt what I have felt... You have ZERO right to judge me. And I know people will judge me anyway. I still won't wish my dark moments on those people. No one should have to suffer like that.

 For me, my anxiety is very closely related to being a hypochondriac. People laugh at me when I talk about being a hypochondriac. They don't take me serious and they'll say, "Oh I'm scared of germs too". No no... You don't understand. I don't need a sick person around me. I could be in the most sanitary place in the world... completely alone... and my mind would still convince me that SOMETHING was wrong with me. I read an article once that talked about how people with hypochondria are way more in tune with their body because they memorize every way that their body works, and if one little thing seems off... Well, I 100% blow it out of proportion. 

I have gotten an MRI, CT Scan's, countless amounts of blood work, dozens of trips to the doctor, and spent WAYYYY too many hours on WebMD (I'm not allowed on there anymore... says Mike) just because of a little pang I felt in my side or because I felt dizzy for a second... I could keep giving examples for days. My first real panic attack stemmed from a headache. I had a swollen lymph node in the back of my neck (I had no idea you had lymph nodes back there) and I had been getting headaches... I was SURE that I had cancer. Go ahead and laugh... it does seem funny. But it wasn't funny to me. I was serious. And I was scared. 

I was driving home from work one day, with my little brothers in the car with me. I was, of course, thinking about what I thought was wrong with me... My left arm started tingling and it got worse and worse. Then my lips started going numb and my chest hurt. I called my mom. I told her that I thought I was having a heart attack. I was crying. I was scared of becoming too incapacitated and wrecking the car with my brothers in it. This is a very common reaction when people have a panic attack for the first time. The symptoms are very similar to what a heart attack feels like. My mom was able to coach me through it until I got us all home. I had this happen a couple times before I finally decided it was time to talk to a doctor.

Usually, when my hypochondria is really bad, I will seem very distant. Mike usually thinks that I'm mad at him when it's happening. It takes so much brain power to sit and convince myself that I'm not dying. So it may not look like I'm freaking out, but on the inside I'm trying to coach myself down from a panic attack. 

I've talked about my whole journey with this in past posts, but that's not what this is about totally. 

Coming back to not wanting to be cured of my anxiety... I was actually talking to my aunt Jen about this a couple of weeks ago. I have some very nervous habits that I do without realizing it. I constantly tap my foot or my fingers... I talk really fast. I like to pace because it calms me down. I don't do well in large groups. Sometimes I actually forget how bad my social anxiety is. Just this past weekend, I hosted a Christmas party for some of my cousins that I don't get to see very often. I was super excited to see everyone. Then the actual day came and I started to get nervous. The closer it got... the more my chest hurt. The party ended up being awesome. Nothing went wrong and it was so fun to see everyone. But there were a couple times that I had to go up and sit in my room by myself for a minute. It wasn't anything in particular. I was just nervous. My heart was racing. I just needed a breather. I still push myself to hang out with people because I have some incredible people in my life, but it's hard for me and it's not because I'm lazy. I actually rarely sit down when I'm at home. 

Anyway... I got sidetracked (as usual). People can usually just automatically tell that I'm an anxious person (I can hide it better some days). So I get a lot of people telling me that I need to work on it... A. If you don't think that I'm constantly working on it--then you clearly have no idea. And B. My anxiety has become a part of who I am. I still have some of the darkest moments, but it also has made me stop taking my good moments for granted.

I had to accept that this was something I was going to have to deal with for the rest of my life. At first, this thought terrified me because at that point I wasn't having anxiety-free moments. But as time went on, I learned to manage it a little better, I got help from doctors, and I started to have some good days. After working on it for almost three years, my good days generally outweigh my bad days. Some weeks are worse than others though (the winter blues are a real thing).

You have to take anxiety, not one day at a time, but one minute, sometimes second, at a time. You have to be a fighter. Some days the anxiety will completely over take you. Some days it will stay hidden away. Every day is a new adventure and everyone's adventure is different.

I always have so much that I want to say, and then I start typing and forget about half of it and go off on giant tangents, so there will probably be a part two to this. 

"I survived because the fire inside me burned brighter than the fire around me."

-Joshua Graham