Anxiety is a motherfucker
There will be another called "Pain is a motherfucker" but that's for another day.
I've often described anxiety attacks like swimming to the bottom of the pool while not having taken enough of a big breath before going under. And then knowing that going up means you will find more air but also not knowing how to get there.
This week I've experienced a new form of anxiety. Imagine your brain is a kitchen. Now imagine that all the cabinets, drawers, appliances…they hold your thoughts and emotions. Now imagine all the cabinets, drawers and appliances spilling out of where they are onto the kitchen. That's what this week has been like and today I broke. I could no longer work thru it or around it and maybe the migraine was just a manifestation of a need for a time out. So that's what today is.
I'll probably regret being so honest about this after I post it but I'm also a believer that it's a conversation that needs to be had. Anxiety….it's a motherfucker. And the only thing worse than internalizing the chaos of your mind's thoughts and your emotions is talking about it getting that eerily familiar look from your person with that "get over it" tone in their voice or look in their eyes. I understand the stigma first hand.
In 6th grade, I began having my first wave of panic attacks. Except I didn't know what was happening and no one could tell me why it was happening. Which is the running theme over my general health but that's for another day, too. It would start with an itch in my throat and I would naturally try to clear it which would make the itch grow which would make me want to clear it again and this would eventually lead to hyperventilation. Twelve years old. I'm 36 now so that's 24 years of my life dealing with this particular bag of tricks. There's no cure to anxiety, you just learn to make friends with the gremlin.
The trap with anxiety is that when you're in the thick of it (I'm calling this week a flare up) it's a steal cage you can't get out of. And the ground you're walking on is quick sand. But every time you sink a little bit, the cage gets a little smaller. . And you can't get out until it's done with you.
I'm taking my meds and I'm eating the right food and I have incredible people in my life who 'get it'. I'm doing all the things I'm supposed to do to get out of from under this but it's just not working this week.
If I could put this bag down believe me I fucking would. But it's apart of me like the way my body curves and the color of my eyes. Knowing something is off and not knowing how to get it back is just…metaphorical torture. It's exhausting and I've been on this roller coaster since Monday and I want off.
This isn't a cry for help or attention. The love that surrounds me in the shape of my friends is more than enough to sustain me. I wanted to share because I know I am not alone. I know that this mind fuck sucks and I'm hoping that I can use this shit week to show someone, anyone, that they are not alone. That it happens and we will be okay. Because we've made it thru 100% of our bad days.
Nothing is 'wrong' by the way. Everything is as it was last week as it will be next week. But I can't get fucking out and I'm exhausted and today I broke. I give. You win today, anxiety.
I've tried avoiding it but now I'm going to try sitting with it. The way I've done with all of my pain. It moves out of the way faster, I've learned. So this is what today will look like: Postmates and tissues and a dark living room with movies sometimes playing.
All of that to say this: we are not alone in this. If you're struggling this week or any week, if you can't catch your breath no matter how much you focus, if you can't sit still, haven't been able to rest, tortured by things you said or did lifetimes ago and just unable to carry on today. I'm right here with you.
I will get thru today and so will you.
