Bear with me tonight; I am a bit nostalgic.And I ramble.
There have been years (three or four straight at a clip) where I felt actual happiness and didn't think much about each step I took in my life. In those years, I traveled wherever I wanted to whenever I wanted to. I worried a lot, but I also had a lot of fun. I dated men and those relationships ended (duh, as proven by my being engaged to a wonderful man today). I watch the Duggar family on TV all the time; while I don't agree with the vast majority of their life views, they may be on to something in their idea that romantic relationships are best pursued in a spiritual and non-physical way before getting to the next steps, many of them occurring after marriage.
I finally found a funny, kind, handsome and Godly man and I bring to the table a lot of baggage from relationships that weren't his fault, things I didn't deal with in full after they happened. I am thankful that the "baggage" is just the feeling of failure and with the exception of my ex-husband, I really did date a good group of guys who just weren't meant to be life mates for me. But the baggage is there and the fear that I will fail this great man looms. I never assume the future will be as good as it was; having depression/anxiety issues lends itself to a bleak outlook that one must combat and fight against in an effort to retrain one's way of thinking.
And that is the tip of the iceberg, honey. The fear of failure in the future runs deep and I blame only some of it on my being wired to be hard on myself and be anxious. I was talking to my oldest friend from elementary school on the phone for the first time in over 15 years and we talked, in real time, about how no one really is "present" anymore. We're all in our smartphones, too busy posting life on our social media accounts to actually sit and breathe in the smells, hear the sounds, etc. I have also discussed this topic with a dear friend from graduate school and we've talked about the therapeutic benefits to disengaging from all of the technology and just talking, reading a book, meditating, etc. We discussed the good old days of grad school when we'd all get there early (if you're in grad school chances are you're an overachiever of sorts, so most of my buds were at class 10-20 minutes before class start time, raring to go).
We talked about how, even though I only graduated five years ago this May, we used to all sit around and bullshit with one another before class. I had a smartphone then, but it didn't feel like a part of my body and it was easily silenced. I went out to bars and taverns with friends and we talked about all types of good stuff. My second year of grad school before I got married, I went on tried-and-true dates with a few men. Does dating exist anymore? Like, the non-boyfriend, seeing-what-happens thing?
This was even more common while earning my B.A. I used AIM and my flip phone to stay in touch. Texting was only for instances where a phone call wasn't possible and AIM allowed me to go "away" to spend time in real life with my friends at res hall programs, restaurants, or just walking around campus talking about everything and nothing at the same time. I met most of my long-term boyfriends through shared interests and social events with mutual friends. It's how I met my Mikey, it just took us six years to get to now :)
When I visited my family at home, I stayed in the know with what was going on in my social life and regret that in hindsight. All of my buds would have still been there after I spent a day or two immersed in my familial routines. But I was never really "there." Always on to the next thing mentally, even though physically I was at the dinner table or putzing around in the kitchen making salad or guacamole. Wondering what tomorrow would look like. And when it came, wondering what the next week looked like. And that is the essence of where I am at now. Always wondering when the panic will happen again to a debilitating point. Always looking over my shoulder.
I not only came to terms this past year with my mental health and the fact that I don't have just "phases" of bad feelings but an ongoing condition...but I also realized that I am a highly sensitive person. Don't mince words; this does not indicate that I am any less strong than someone who lacks sensitivity. Rather, things affect me profoundly. It's why, though I am SO much better this year than I was last, I am still not where I want to be. It's why all of my failed relationships that led me to Mike each took a piece of my heart because with each person, I gave of myself in a very holistic way and when things didn't work out, I felt like a piece of me would never come back and I would never feel whole.
I also realized that I can't help how out society is now. I can't help the existence of stupid articles about Bruce Jenner that I see posted everywhere, but I can stop being pissed off at the ignorant journalists who won't leave well enough alone and let a person (albeit a very public celebrity) live privately. I can't help that social media changed the landscape of how we interact with people and how we perceive things in a very profound way. But I can control how I utilize it and use its powers for good. I also can't control that I have a mental illness, but I can work on changing how I let it affect my self-esteem and stop worrying first and foremost about how my condition makes others feel. If I can rest knowing I have done all I can at the end of a day to educate, advocate, explain and work to help others understand and feel comfortable around me in a time where I feel like an alien in my own skin, then that has to be enough. And it is. Though I wish I could get some of those others to feel the same. Losing friendships in a time when you feel like you're just plain losing it is hard. Luckily, I've reestablished ties with more people than I have lost contact with.
But those good old days...I can't get them back. And while I can control whether or not to wallow in that fact, I ultimately do because life goes so slow and so fast at the same time. A workday drags on, but before I know it, we're one-third through the year. I wish, in years past when my legs felt sturdier and my heart lighter, I had taken the time to breathe in the smell of my old dorm rooms, find comfort in the sound of my Aunt Roseanne's voice and her Easter cooking, took time to talk about life and dogs on grocery trips with my mom, and savored my dad's antipasto and his wisdom over the past 15 Christmases. Or taken the time to visit my brother more in college and congratulate him on how much he did to make his way through school. Or enjoyed my courtship with my life mate rather than wondering when we would move in, get engaged, have babies...
It's like Andy said in the finale of The Office..."I'm still just thinking about my old pals. Only now, they're the ones I made here. I wish there was a way to know you're in 'the good old days.' before you've actually left them."
Showing posts with label generalized anxiety disorder. Show all posts
Showing posts with label generalized anxiety disorder. Show all posts
Friday, April 10, 2015
Sunday, February 1, 2015
Reflections from 2014
I haven't written in a very, very long time so I thought it fitting to take some time this weekend and write for fun. I should, of course, have done this while business was slow (because everyone was buying Christmas presents instead of resumes)...but now is as good a time as any.
Well, for anyone that knows me personally or who follows me on Facebook knows that I had a severe panic and anxiety episode that showed symptoms as early as October 2013, exacerbated right after the holidays in 2013 and stayed really bad until I got linked together with the right care providers and medicines in late January 2014. I don't really remember much of the month prior to that. I spent most of my days trying to sleep or eat. I lost 10lbs during that time.
From there, it was and has been an uphill battle to get back to feeling like myself. I spent most of 2014 being scared of things. Being afraid to eat (which my medicine not only cured, but caused a 30-pound weight gain, which hurts the self-esteem pretty badly). We are, however, in the process of starting to diet and eat better together thanks to some good books from the in-laws. The "we" I am referring to is me and my now-fiance Michael. He spent a good part of 2014 serving as more of a caretaker than a partner and I am happy to say now that he has effectively been able to return to a more "partner-in-crime" capacity. Still, it's been a transition going from being almost wholly dependent on him to learning how to spread my own wings. Sometimes that comes naturally and I almost feel 100% again. Other times, the bad days still rear their ugly heads. Nevertheless, each day is ultimately a little more normal and farther away from what I went through a year ago. Others strive for excitement and worldly adventures. I strive to watch Brooklyn Nine-Nine, eat a cheesesteak, see friends and shop in Dollar tree without having any moments where my confidence in my stability is shaken to its core.
Outside of my major GAD/Panic Disorder and Depression flare-up, it was just a difficult year overall; even the most even-tempered individual would have wigged out a little. My aunt died in late October after suffering for over a decade with numerous health issues. The worst part of that is that we spent most of that decade not talking, for reasons none of my immediate or extended family members recall anymore. When someone dies in an untimely manner (no matter the state of their health), it's hard to grapple with the anger and the resentment over losing someone too soon. It's also been continually difficult, as one of the many left behind, to think of the what-ifs. I wonder if she'd still be here if I visited more, called more, spoke up on her behalf more when she didn't have the strength to in the presence of her (incopmpetent) care providers. I should have been her care provider. I used to be able to swoop in if you knew me two years ago. I lost my helping tools when she needed them the most. It gets better with the passing of time, but it never really stops hurting when you love someone that much. She was an integral part of m childhood, adolescence and early adulthood and it's been very hard to go on in the world knowing that she isn't co-existing here with me. Plus, my mom lost her great-cousin Al and he was a pretty steady fixture in my childhood and a great man.
My parents also lost two of their three pets this year, each long before they should have died. One was due to an accident (being hit by a car) and the other suffered from epilepsy for most of her life and suffered from a stroke or some other form of trauma before the vet decided it was best for her to be laid to rest. I am thankful and humbled by the fact that both of our own pets have been doing well health-wise. But I've noticed, both with me and those close in age to me that I talk to, that the older we get, the more we're aware of mortality in general. When my friends and I were in college, we all thought we were invincible.
Though I lost a lot of friends and acquaintances to death (and saw them lose family members, too)...I never really thought about when I would have to deal with that and how I would cope. Then once it started to happen, I went the complete opposite way and I live in fear of losing everything. But I lost my job and survived. I found a gig that perfectly complements my skill set and my current situation. Had this whole messy breakdown not happened, I would still be working in settings that made me feel uncomfortable, underpaid and in some cases emotionally abused. Life is too short and no one deserves that. I believe that one should feel comfortable and happy in a job. It was a happy accident that I finally found a writing job that allows me to use the skills I gleaned from both degrees I earned.
Sometimes loss doesn't mean death in the literal sense-I logically know I can't control when people do and don't die. But this year, I did lose or grow distant from a small unrelated group of longtime friends when I got sick. It's unexpected when the people you believe to be most compassionate and supportive suddenly become unavailable or overly self-absorbed during the one time you need them...after all the times you've been their rock.
And in turn, you find compassion and healing from folks you haven't talked to in years, but affected enough that they decided to reach out to offer words of love and encouragement. The friends piece has been a great lesson in setting boundaries. I take the time to care for and nurture those that do the same. Even if my health or schedule doesn't allow me to take road trips or send extravagant presents...I still make an effort. It's been a lonely year and I finally realized that in order to stop being lonely, I have to let love in. And let go of those that don't love me. That process doesn't have to be negative. Sometimes, relationships just need a breather or room to grow. And in that time, I choose to favor nurturing and fruitful relationships in place of the ones that drain me.
Still a work in progress...still hanging on. -L
Well, for anyone that knows me personally or who follows me on Facebook knows that I had a severe panic and anxiety episode that showed symptoms as early as October 2013, exacerbated right after the holidays in 2013 and stayed really bad until I got linked together with the right care providers and medicines in late January 2014. I don't really remember much of the month prior to that. I spent most of my days trying to sleep or eat. I lost 10lbs during that time.
From there, it was and has been an uphill battle to get back to feeling like myself. I spent most of 2014 being scared of things. Being afraid to eat (which my medicine not only cured, but caused a 30-pound weight gain, which hurts the self-esteem pretty badly). We are, however, in the process of starting to diet and eat better together thanks to some good books from the in-laws. The "we" I am referring to is me and my now-fiance Michael. He spent a good part of 2014 serving as more of a caretaker than a partner and I am happy to say now that he has effectively been able to return to a more "partner-in-crime" capacity. Still, it's been a transition going from being almost wholly dependent on him to learning how to spread my own wings. Sometimes that comes naturally and I almost feel 100% again. Other times, the bad days still rear their ugly heads. Nevertheless, each day is ultimately a little more normal and farther away from what I went through a year ago. Others strive for excitement and worldly adventures. I strive to watch Brooklyn Nine-Nine, eat a cheesesteak, see friends and shop in Dollar tree without having any moments where my confidence in my stability is shaken to its core.
Outside of my major GAD/Panic Disorder and Depression flare-up, it was just a difficult year overall; even the most even-tempered individual would have wigged out a little. My aunt died in late October after suffering for over a decade with numerous health issues. The worst part of that is that we spent most of that decade not talking, for reasons none of my immediate or extended family members recall anymore. When someone dies in an untimely manner (no matter the state of their health), it's hard to grapple with the anger and the resentment over losing someone too soon. It's also been continually difficult, as one of the many left behind, to think of the what-ifs. I wonder if she'd still be here if I visited more, called more, spoke up on her behalf more when she didn't have the strength to in the presence of her (incopmpetent) care providers. I should have been her care provider. I used to be able to swoop in if you knew me two years ago. I lost my helping tools when she needed them the most. It gets better with the passing of time, but it never really stops hurting when you love someone that much. She was an integral part of m childhood, adolescence and early adulthood and it's been very hard to go on in the world knowing that she isn't co-existing here with me. Plus, my mom lost her great-cousin Al and he was a pretty steady fixture in my childhood and a great man.
My parents also lost two of their three pets this year, each long before they should have died. One was due to an accident (being hit by a car) and the other suffered from epilepsy for most of her life and suffered from a stroke or some other form of trauma before the vet decided it was best for her to be laid to rest. I am thankful and humbled by the fact that both of our own pets have been doing well health-wise. But I've noticed, both with me and those close in age to me that I talk to, that the older we get, the more we're aware of mortality in general. When my friends and I were in college, we all thought we were invincible.
Though I lost a lot of friends and acquaintances to death (and saw them lose family members, too)...I never really thought about when I would have to deal with that and how I would cope. Then once it started to happen, I went the complete opposite way and I live in fear of losing everything. But I lost my job and survived. I found a gig that perfectly complements my skill set and my current situation. Had this whole messy breakdown not happened, I would still be working in settings that made me feel uncomfortable, underpaid and in some cases emotionally abused. Life is too short and no one deserves that. I believe that one should feel comfortable and happy in a job. It was a happy accident that I finally found a writing job that allows me to use the skills I gleaned from both degrees I earned.
Sometimes loss doesn't mean death in the literal sense-I logically know I can't control when people do and don't die. But this year, I did lose or grow distant from a small unrelated group of longtime friends when I got sick. It's unexpected when the people you believe to be most compassionate and supportive suddenly become unavailable or overly self-absorbed during the one time you need them...after all the times you've been their rock.
And in turn, you find compassion and healing from folks you haven't talked to in years, but affected enough that they decided to reach out to offer words of love and encouragement. The friends piece has been a great lesson in setting boundaries. I take the time to care for and nurture those that do the same. Even if my health or schedule doesn't allow me to take road trips or send extravagant presents...I still make an effort. It's been a lonely year and I finally realized that in order to stop being lonely, I have to let love in. And let go of those that don't love me. That process doesn't have to be negative. Sometimes, relationships just need a breather or room to grow. And in that time, I choose to favor nurturing and fruitful relationships in place of the ones that drain me.
Still a work in progress...still hanging on. -L
Sunday, September 21, 2014
It's been awhile
...Yes I am aware of the reference to the well-known Staind song in my post title and it was totally intentional, as Aaron Lewis has one of the best voices I've ever heard in my life. But it has been. I was working today (ironically, I write for a living) and realized I hadn't written for myself in a long time. A lot has happened and things have been a whirlwind.
Mike and I are moving to a townhouse at the end of next month. So we have roughly five weeks to finish packing and to purchase the additional things we need to make the house a home. I say this because we are gaining 200 square foot in additional living space. It's a sweet little rental community, close to shopping and highways, but in a small town (well, as "small" as it gets in the Philadelphian urban sprawl). So best of both worlds...10 minutes further from my family, but it's not a permanent thing and not a long addition to travel time in the grand scheme.
We are excited to live in a two-story dwelling - we both grew up in houses with multiple floors and miss the boundaries that can be created from that (e.g. I finally get my office, Mike can watch loud TV when he comes home and not wake me, the dog and cat can coexist peacefully, the cat has a comfortable second-story view from her window sills)...we are also REALLY excited to have our own personal washer/dryer, big windows, warmly painted walls, an extra half-bath and a low-key pet-friendly community. On a personal note, I am excited that the community has a comfy clubhouse with free WiFi, so I can either work from my office or from there. I want so badly some days to have an alternative to our living room sofa (our current "office" is too tiny to serve as a work space), but socially the places in Quakertown are just too crowded and they're like that all of the time - think the large public library, Starbucks...not exactly calming and intimate. Plus, we have a free fitness center on premises so I ca finally avoid making excuses for my sedentary lifestyle and exercise to increase those endorphin levels just in time for the holidays.
I am still socially anxious. And I am depressed. But it's feeling less hopeless and it's getting easier to pinpoint things that exacerbate the condition. And living in a warm, happy, homey space that really feels like "home" will do so much for not only me, but for our family. Mike and I have been miserable living in a poorly maintained apartment complex and even our cat has had what we believe to be anxiety episodes this year. Now, she gets her second story refuge and we get our first real "home" as a family - we've lived in college apartments and cheap rentals for too long. Very thankful for Mike's promotion and my steady stream of business. We finally feel as though we have some good karma going. It's not always peaches, but it's better than it was. Thank God for all of it.
-L
Mike and I are moving to a townhouse at the end of next month. So we have roughly five weeks to finish packing and to purchase the additional things we need to make the house a home. I say this because we are gaining 200 square foot in additional living space. It's a sweet little rental community, close to shopping and highways, but in a small town (well, as "small" as it gets in the Philadelphian urban sprawl). So best of both worlds...10 minutes further from my family, but it's not a permanent thing and not a long addition to travel time in the grand scheme.
We are excited to live in a two-story dwelling - we both grew up in houses with multiple floors and miss the boundaries that can be created from that (e.g. I finally get my office, Mike can watch loud TV when he comes home and not wake me, the dog and cat can coexist peacefully, the cat has a comfortable second-story view from her window sills)...we are also REALLY excited to have our own personal washer/dryer, big windows, warmly painted walls, an extra half-bath and a low-key pet-friendly community. On a personal note, I am excited that the community has a comfy clubhouse with free WiFi, so I can either work from my office or from there. I want so badly some days to have an alternative to our living room sofa (our current "office" is too tiny to serve as a work space), but socially the places in Quakertown are just too crowded and they're like that all of the time - think the large public library, Starbucks...not exactly calming and intimate. Plus, we have a free fitness center on premises so I ca finally avoid making excuses for my sedentary lifestyle and exercise to increase those endorphin levels just in time for the holidays.
I am still socially anxious. And I am depressed. But it's feeling less hopeless and it's getting easier to pinpoint things that exacerbate the condition. And living in a warm, happy, homey space that really feels like "home" will do so much for not only me, but for our family. Mike and I have been miserable living in a poorly maintained apartment complex and even our cat has had what we believe to be anxiety episodes this year. Now, she gets her second story refuge and we get our first real "home" as a family - we've lived in college apartments and cheap rentals for too long. Very thankful for Mike's promotion and my steady stream of business. We finally feel as though we have some good karma going. It's not always peaches, but it's better than it was. Thank God for all of it.
-L
Wednesday, August 20, 2014
How to help
With Robin Williams tragically dying from suicide last week, I think depression is on a lot of folks' minds in the aftermath of it all. Mental illness is one of those things that, while widely de-stigmatized over the past decade (I was very secretive as I sought treatment in high school and in college), is still one of those topics that many fail to understand. Of course, there are a number of exceptions. There are psychiatrists, social workers, therapists, counselors and various other care workers who see this kind of thing regularly. There are also folks that deal with some type of diagnosis themselves - this can range from mild Generalized Anxiety Disorder to the level of anguish that Robin Williams was apparently dealing with - the kind of profound sadness and hopelessness that drives a person to take her/his own life. There are also those dedicated and committed partners, family members and friends that strive to learn more and empathize when they learn a loved one is in anguish.
I used to fail to understand suicide and the thought patterns that led depressed and suffering folks down such a final and irreversible path. I personally never took that path because I did not want my partner, family and friends to have to live with the aftermath. No one can really help it when a person dies of natural causes. But if a loved one commits suicide, you're left wondering a lot of things. What did I do to cause this? Could I have prevented it from happening? Even in my darkest hole of a mood, I kept in mind that it wasn't my destiny to feel soulless forever, It would get better. It had to.
Not everyone is lucid enough to come to that conclusion in the heat of a manic episode, though. I think I finally get that and it took losing one of the best actors of my lifetime to see that. I understand that suicide can be perceived as selfish because of what it does to those around the deceased. Until you've experienced depression on a level that goes beyond "feeling sad," or you have taken care of someone in this condition on a regular basis...you wouldn't understand. Failing to understand fully is acceptable, but it's not OK to judge. As I've come to learn this year, it's rarely ever "OK" to judge.
Not everyone is lucid enough to come to that conclusion in the heat of a manic episode, though. I think I finally get that and it took losing one of the best actors of my lifetime to see that. I understand that suicide can be perceived as selfish because of what it does to those around the deceased. Until you've experienced depression on a level that goes beyond "feeling sad," or you have taken care of someone in this condition on a regular basis...you wouldn't understand. Failing to understand fully is acceptable, but it's not OK to judge. As I've come to learn this year, it's rarely ever "OK" to judge.
There are a lot of resources out there for folks that want to learn more about depression, anxiety and the like. Folks that suffer can explain it to loved ones in the best way they know how. And what I've learned is that, no matter how much I try to make people in my life "get it," some just don't or refuse to. And that's OK. That's not my burden to carry, nor should they feel guilty for not being able to relate on a firsthand basis. But how does a family member or a close friend help?
Well, there are a number of related Buzzfeed lists and HuffPo articles out there that have been very popular since Robin Williams passed away, so this topic is buzzworthy. These articles tell you what not to do. I can't tell you how many times I've had to bite my tongue when someone says something well-intentioned but unhelpful/offensive to me. You can probably see the teeth marks in my tongue. :) But instead of focusing on what people are doing wrong, I want to provide some perspective regarding ways to potentially help someone dealing with depression or any kind of long-term mental anguish.
Don't pretend like you get it and don't try too hard to. Educate yourself, but don't pretend like what you or your friend Sue is dealing with is the same as what the distressed person in your life is dealing with. Different people have different triggers, thresholds for emotional pain, clinical diagnoses...and the list goes on. Everyone is different. You are not the same as Sue. And Sue is not the same as your friend Harry, so comparing the still-depressed Sue to Harry, who "conquered" his depression using methods A an B...it's doing Sue more harm than good. What you think may serve as motivation can make someone feel as though they're not living up to the world's expectations, or more specifically, yours.
Just listen. Agree that what your loved one is dealing with is hard. Thank them for sharing their story with you. Ask what you can do to help. "I hear you, friend...that really sucks that you're dealing with those feelings. Is there anything I can do for you?" Just knowing that there's a support system available that is willing and flexible means the world. At least it has for me. And if the person is dealing with social anxiety in any form, other forms of communication can take the place of in-person support if the suffer isn't up to visitors or willing to talk it all out on the phone. Emails, cards, social media...the smallest I-love-yous do a world of good. And if someone isn't in a place to respond, give it time. Maybe they're not up for karaoke night, but a nice Hallmark card goes a long way. Or a reaffirming text. It's easy for others to move on with their lives and forget to include folks stuck in manic episodes because those folks aren't up for big, fun adventures and often push loved ones away unintentionally while suffering on the inside.
Understand that a depressed person probably doesn't want to be that way. I would gladly give up a limb (literally) to go back to the week before my breakdown and do it all over again knowing what I know now. Or to be reborn without the predisposition to being depressed and anxious. To be the kind of person that takes it all in stride. Also understand that depression does mean that a person may not have the capacity to be the most social, humorous, optimistic or romantic at this point in time. This may be finite, it may be permanent. It depends on the person. Recovery takes as long as it needs to take and there is no timetable for when a person "needs" to start feeling better so that others around them feel less awkward.
I got told by a former supervisor once that I didn't "look" anxious etc. and this person was shocked that I'd been suffering. It's often said that when a person breaks like I did, it's from trying to be strong for too long. I'm learning in therapy how to give myself grace and permission to not be the best at everything this year. Do the same for friends and family that may be suffering.
And take care of yourself. It can be hard to be around a person who is as her/his lowest levels of depression and fear. Learn how to care for yourself and how to be a good supporter through reading, therapy, co-therapy with the sufferer...whatever it takes. Lastly, throw away the practice of being judgmental. There's just no room for it. Unless you've walked a mile in someone's shoes...
And take care of yourself. It can be hard to be around a person who is as her/his lowest levels of depression and fear. Learn how to care for yourself and how to be a good supporter through reading, therapy, co-therapy with the sufferer...whatever it takes. Lastly, throw away the practice of being judgmental. There's just no room for it. Unless you've walked a mile in someone's shoes...
L
Sunday, June 29, 2014
...and one step back
The hallmark of having generalized anxiety disorder and panic disorder with agoraphobia (in my experience anyway) is that I take two steps forward in my recovery progress, and when I experience a perceived setback in my recovery. it hits hard. Even though I know I'm not back at Square One (i.e. January and being afraid to leave the house and speak to anyone), setback rattle my core in a way I can't articulate and perhaps it's something that only an anxiety sufferer will fully understand. Note: experiencing moderate levels of stress, even for an extended time period, is not the same thing as having a chronic anxiety and panic disorder. It doesn't define me as a person, but it's always been there in the background in one way or another since high school. For those that never read before..long story short is that I experienced a nervous breakdown shortly after Christmas. No one factor that led to it - just a lot of stress and change over the course of a three-year period. Heavy stuff. So for a while, I couldn't handle any stimuli, good or bad. Lost the butterfly feeling for things I once loved (good food, double dates with friends, family visits, etc). Still struggling with that to this day. But I found a job that is flexible enough to complement my recovery and I have an amazing support system and some very effective medicine that I do believe saved me. So functioning again, just experiencing the highs and lows that come with perceived victories and setbacks.
So last week, I had a great therapy appointment. I also spent 20 minutes on the phone setting up a life insurance policy for myself (ah, the joys of self-employment). Being that I was petrified of the phone and most human contact in January, huge victories. But I have a nasty habit of pushing myself just too far when I am on an upswing. So after getting off the phone with Metlife, I took a trip to Target (a store I finally felt comfortable in again with Mike) to buy some shopping list items, none of which were super essential. I knew going into the store that I was overwhelmed, but I couldn't just listen to my body and mind. I pushed myself. And set myself up to fail. And the past few days have been wracked with guilt over that. And guilt over not seeing my family or friends as much because I am just not ready. I went out this weekend and even set foot in the very Target store where my near-attack occurred. Victorious to the outside world. But I can't shake the fear that the breakdown I had and the setbacks that happen have ultimately changed me as a person.
No external factor is to blame for these feelings of self-loathing and guilt; I need to learn how to have self-compassion. But how does one do that? How do I give myself the grace I talked about in my last post? I am really all ears and open to suggestions, because this level of vulnerability is something I m very unaccustomed to. I firmly believe there's beauty in the breakdown (yep, a song lyric from Frou Frou's "Let Go," featured in the movie "Garden State") but the breakdown in itself and the subsequent recovery...well it's very hard. I find incredible difficulty in getting motivated to exercise, meditate and do the things that I know may help along with the medicine and therapy. And it's lonely. I miss my loved ones. I'm just not ready to be all "out there" yet like the Myers-Briggs ESTJ I used to be.
And I wish I knew how to love myself. Hopefully, all in good time.
-L
So last week, I had a great therapy appointment. I also spent 20 minutes on the phone setting up a life insurance policy for myself (ah, the joys of self-employment). Being that I was petrified of the phone and most human contact in January, huge victories. But I have a nasty habit of pushing myself just too far when I am on an upswing. So after getting off the phone with Metlife, I took a trip to Target (a store I finally felt comfortable in again with Mike) to buy some shopping list items, none of which were super essential. I knew going into the store that I was overwhelmed, but I couldn't just listen to my body and mind. I pushed myself. And set myself up to fail. And the past few days have been wracked with guilt over that. And guilt over not seeing my family or friends as much because I am just not ready. I went out this weekend and even set foot in the very Target store where my near-attack occurred. Victorious to the outside world. But I can't shake the fear that the breakdown I had and the setbacks that happen have ultimately changed me as a person.
No external factor is to blame for these feelings of self-loathing and guilt; I need to learn how to have self-compassion. But how does one do that? How do I give myself the grace I talked about in my last post? I am really all ears and open to suggestions, because this level of vulnerability is something I m very unaccustomed to. I firmly believe there's beauty in the breakdown (yep, a song lyric from Frou Frou's "Let Go," featured in the movie "Garden State") but the breakdown in itself and the subsequent recovery...well it's very hard. I find incredible difficulty in getting motivated to exercise, meditate and do the things that I know may help along with the medicine and therapy. And it's lonely. I miss my loved ones. I'm just not ready to be all "out there" yet like the Myers-Briggs ESTJ I used to be.
And I wish I knew how to love myself. Hopefully, all in good time.
-L
Tuesday, March 25, 2014
finding some strength
Oy. So, the setback I experienced a couple of weekends ago has been very difficult to snap back from. The lack of confidence I have in myself when it comes to achieving positive things is alarming. Yet I can always count on myself to be self-sabotaging or self-loathing. Fabulous recipe for recovery.
So a rough few days, but did manage to force myself out for the usual dog walking and a couple of trips to local stores. Have been keeping myself busy with cooking, cleaning, organizing and the like. I try to take care of myself with regards to appearance, but it sadly comes in last place these days. Exercise rears its head now and then, but not nearly as much as it should. Supposedly, exercise would do wonders for me (if I wasn't so tired from the constant worry and obsessing) so it's something I need to commit to. And I've researched some nutrients and foods that may help calm nerves so we will see what happens.
I talked to God throughout the past few bad days and he didn't steer me wrong. I successfully survived a highly-anticipated psychiatry appointment and trips to Target and Chick-Fil-A that followed. I will count these as victories given that a couple of weeks ago I was in the fetal position in my living room embarrassed because I had a panic attack in my own parents' home.
Therapy continues in home this week, along with some good reading (I researched a couple of self-help books that came widely recommended based on reader reviews)...I also need to stop the "bad" reading i.e. the stories of sufferers that are not helpful and are only harmful (there is a mess of crap out there in the internet world, I'll tell ya.)
Hoping everyone's first week of Spring has been good - I feel as though today gets this week off to a positive start :)
-L
So a rough few days, but did manage to force myself out for the usual dog walking and a couple of trips to local stores. Have been keeping myself busy with cooking, cleaning, organizing and the like. I try to take care of myself with regards to appearance, but it sadly comes in last place these days. Exercise rears its head now and then, but not nearly as much as it should. Supposedly, exercise would do wonders for me (if I wasn't so tired from the constant worry and obsessing) so it's something I need to commit to. And I've researched some nutrients and foods that may help calm nerves so we will see what happens.
I talked to God throughout the past few bad days and he didn't steer me wrong. I successfully survived a highly-anticipated psychiatry appointment and trips to Target and Chick-Fil-A that followed. I will count these as victories given that a couple of weeks ago I was in the fetal position in my living room embarrassed because I had a panic attack in my own parents' home.
Therapy continues in home this week, along with some good reading (I researched a couple of self-help books that came widely recommended based on reader reviews)...I also need to stop the "bad" reading i.e. the stories of sufferers that are not helpful and are only harmful (there is a mess of crap out there in the internet world, I'll tell ya.)
Hoping everyone's first week of Spring has been good - I feel as though today gets this week off to a positive start :)
-L
Friday, March 14, 2014
My old life
Going through a severe and debilitating episode of Generalized Anxiety Disorder/Panic Disorder/Agoraphobia has been a grief process of sorts in many ways for me. As I've said before, I was severely depressed in the year leading up until all of this. Apparently, I was a champ in putting on a good front - my parents, coworkers and friends pretty much had no idea and thought my breakdown came out of the blue. Only Mike and a couple of close confidants really knew the depth of it all, and even they didn't really know until now. To an outsider, things in my life were pretty good - working in the field of my choice, making enough money to live comfortably, two years into a committed and faithful partnership with a genuinely nice and good guy....good physical health. And my mental state could have been salvaged with therapy sooner had I known it would be this bad. And now I grieve the loss of that life - the one I picked apart all of the time because I was depressed and had no idea.
Last year was a big one. Switched jobs, lived in three different apartments (all dreadful in their own right), health issues with both pets, reunited with an estranged and very important family member and mended fences with some important relationships that had long been neglected for silly reasons. All good stuff right? Yet I didn't appreciate it. I was angry all of the time in the year before my breakdown. I was angry at myself for "letting myself go" and gaining weight - back in college, I could eat anything and my metabolism took care of it. I was angry at myself for financial decisions I made and wishing I knew then what I know now.
Others were on the receiving end too, but most didn't know it. I was angry with my partner because we hadn't yet figured out an effective way to communicate with one another and it was really hard to do so due to working opposite work shifts. I was angry at my family and they had no idea. Angry at my mom for being a smoker. I worry that I will lose her every day. Angry at my dad for not keeping up with routine physical appointments. Jealous of my brother as he went through his growth process from college student to working professional - he lives at home with my parents and also did so in his years at community college and as an intern before graduation. I spent my twenties doing everything in my power to distance myself from my seemingly boring hometown and the dead-end it was in regards to professional opportunities. Now I yearn for those years back and for more time with my family and loved ones as the reality of human mortality finally hit me. For the past two years, I secretly would fear each time I left my family's home that it would be the last time I saw them.
More and more, I see Facebook blow up with separations and divorces (including my own, for which I was still angry at myself and my ex-spouse for), family deaths and other hardships. Reminders of all the bad stuff, and seeing the marriages and babies that I don't have...nothing good comes of Facebook except an increased awareness of current events and the ability to communicate with those that are far away.
So, I grieve for many things. The life I had where I was able to push away my anxiety and still function normally. Maybe long-term it wasn't a good coping method, but I felt self-sufficient. I grieve that I can't get the time back with my parents that I could have had when I wasn't plagued with agoraphobia. I grieve the loss of my youth in a sense. I'm not especially vain and don't care about turning 30, but I will never get those movie nights at Cinema 6 with my high school friends or the $2 You-Call-It Wednesday night drinks at Shorty's Bar in Kutztown with my RA group again. I have never been able to live in the moment, to soak it in and enjoy it. To relish in it and not worry about what I did/will do wrong.
I hope that through this whole recovery process, I learn the art of mindfulness and truly can start to appreciate it all before it's too late.
-L-
Last year was a big one. Switched jobs, lived in three different apartments (all dreadful in their own right), health issues with both pets, reunited with an estranged and very important family member and mended fences with some important relationships that had long been neglected for silly reasons. All good stuff right? Yet I didn't appreciate it. I was angry all of the time in the year before my breakdown. I was angry at myself for "letting myself go" and gaining weight - back in college, I could eat anything and my metabolism took care of it. I was angry at myself for financial decisions I made and wishing I knew then what I know now.
Others were on the receiving end too, but most didn't know it. I was angry with my partner because we hadn't yet figured out an effective way to communicate with one another and it was really hard to do so due to working opposite work shifts. I was angry at my family and they had no idea. Angry at my mom for being a smoker. I worry that I will lose her every day. Angry at my dad for not keeping up with routine physical appointments. Jealous of my brother as he went through his growth process from college student to working professional - he lives at home with my parents and also did so in his years at community college and as an intern before graduation. I spent my twenties doing everything in my power to distance myself from my seemingly boring hometown and the dead-end it was in regards to professional opportunities. Now I yearn for those years back and for more time with my family and loved ones as the reality of human mortality finally hit me. For the past two years, I secretly would fear each time I left my family's home that it would be the last time I saw them.
More and more, I see Facebook blow up with separations and divorces (including my own, for which I was still angry at myself and my ex-spouse for), family deaths and other hardships. Reminders of all the bad stuff, and seeing the marriages and babies that I don't have...nothing good comes of Facebook except an increased awareness of current events and the ability to communicate with those that are far away.
So, I grieve for many things. The life I had where I was able to push away my anxiety and still function normally. Maybe long-term it wasn't a good coping method, but I felt self-sufficient. I grieve that I can't get the time back with my parents that I could have had when I wasn't plagued with agoraphobia. I grieve the loss of my youth in a sense. I'm not especially vain and don't care about turning 30, but I will never get those movie nights at Cinema 6 with my high school friends or the $2 You-Call-It Wednesday night drinks at Shorty's Bar in Kutztown with my RA group again. I have never been able to live in the moment, to soak it in and enjoy it. To relish in it and not worry about what I did/will do wrong.
I hope that through this whole recovery process, I learn the art of mindfulness and truly can start to appreciate it all before it's too late.
-L-
Monday, March 10, 2014
A constant struggle
The past few days have been very, very difficult. Perhaps it's when I set high expectations for the days to come, and they don't go as anticipated....maybe that's when I start to feel unraveled and defeated.
This weekend, I pushed myself to go with Mike to my parents house for a nice Saturday lunch, complete with my favorite Chinese takeout from my hometown and my mom's homemade chocolate chip cookies. The morning was surprisingly good. Had a breakfast drink (I have myself in a routine of drinking Carnation Breakfast Essentials because it's good to have something in the AM, even if my appetite isn't raging.). Took a Xanax and kept the morning free of anything stressful. Even made some of my chamomile lavender tea for the road (I swear by it... it makes for a very serene morning). Packed my purse with my panic attack pack, so to speak - a soothing hot water bottle, lavender aromatherapy salve and my iPad loaded with Kindle library books. The first hour of the ride was difficult, but I understood why. For those that weren't aware of this, I hadn't been 10 minutes outside of Quakertown since Christmas. So seeing the big outside world for the first time in over two months was big.
Halfway through the ride, Mike craved an energy drink (God bless my partner for making the morning drive after working 4pm-midnight beforehand) and my thimble bladder couldn't take it. So we stop at a familiar service station off I-380N. Big mistake. Crowded bathroom=me twitching and hyperventilating until we were back on the road. Turns out that in the throes of fight-or-flight, ol' thimble bladder has a bigger capacity than I ever imagined. And this all set the tone for the visit.
I missed my parents so much up until this point (they're about two hours from where I live), and I spent most of the visit on the sofa laying with my water bottle and hating myself. I was too scared to move, scared that the panic wouldn't subside, not wanting to ruin the day or worry my family. Starving but so amped up that I could barely swallow my own saliva let alone the delicious food they arranged for me. Dreading the ride home and wishing immensely that we lived closer to my parents. Being so scared that even my own hometown doesn't feel "home" enough for me to feel safe.
A massive amount of guilt comes along with having an anxiety and panic disorder. Saturday and the days that have followed since have been one big self-hatred fest. Everyone around of me has been so proud that I got out and did what did. But all I can see sometimes is the failure, the loss of normalcy...remembering that at one point in my life, I was brave enough to graduate college and then go on to earn an M.Ed. Brave enough to be an "extreme couponer" of sorts and spend an entire day shopping for our household in search of the best deals. Brave enough to present to groups of 10-100 people and to enjoy it. Brave enough to enjoy my food without worrying how it will affect me. Brave period. I now hide in our small apartment and lean on Mike both physically and emotionally on my excursions out. Victories. Two steps forward. Followed by a false sense of defeating the disorder, then setback, guilt, another step back...and so it goes. And so it goes.
I firmly believe I was depressed for about a year or more leading up to my breakdown, but to change this much as a person seemingly overnight? I have never felt the rug be pulled out from under my already-unsteady feet that much in all my life. I am grieving the death of who I thought I was and he grief process is not neat or tidy in any way,
Is this negative self-talk toxic to my recovery? Absolutely. Do I know that I'll have an upswing and come out of this dark period to a less dark place? Yes, but it won't be what it was before my breakdown. I have a lot of work to do to get there. I hate that. Even on my "good" days I'm not good.
Two steps forward and one back, or is it the other way around? Not sure tonight.
-L-
This weekend, I pushed myself to go with Mike to my parents house for a nice Saturday lunch, complete with my favorite Chinese takeout from my hometown and my mom's homemade chocolate chip cookies. The morning was surprisingly good. Had a breakfast drink (I have myself in a routine of drinking Carnation Breakfast Essentials because it's good to have something in the AM, even if my appetite isn't raging.). Took a Xanax and kept the morning free of anything stressful. Even made some of my chamomile lavender tea for the road (I swear by it... it makes for a very serene morning). Packed my purse with my panic attack pack, so to speak - a soothing hot water bottle, lavender aromatherapy salve and my iPad loaded with Kindle library books. The first hour of the ride was difficult, but I understood why. For those that weren't aware of this, I hadn't been 10 minutes outside of Quakertown since Christmas. So seeing the big outside world for the first time in over two months was big.
Halfway through the ride, Mike craved an energy drink (God bless my partner for making the morning drive after working 4pm-midnight beforehand) and my thimble bladder couldn't take it. So we stop at a familiar service station off I-380N. Big mistake. Crowded bathroom=me twitching and hyperventilating until we were back on the road. Turns out that in the throes of fight-or-flight, ol' thimble bladder has a bigger capacity than I ever imagined. And this all set the tone for the visit.
I missed my parents so much up until this point (they're about two hours from where I live), and I spent most of the visit on the sofa laying with my water bottle and hating myself. I was too scared to move, scared that the panic wouldn't subside, not wanting to ruin the day or worry my family. Starving but so amped up that I could barely swallow my own saliva let alone the delicious food they arranged for me. Dreading the ride home and wishing immensely that we lived closer to my parents. Being so scared that even my own hometown doesn't feel "home" enough for me to feel safe.
A massive amount of guilt comes along with having an anxiety and panic disorder. Saturday and the days that have followed since have been one big self-hatred fest. Everyone around of me has been so proud that I got out and did what did. But all I can see sometimes is the failure, the loss of normalcy...remembering that at one point in my life, I was brave enough to graduate college and then go on to earn an M.Ed. Brave enough to be an "extreme couponer" of sorts and spend an entire day shopping for our household in search of the best deals. Brave enough to present to groups of 10-100 people and to enjoy it. Brave enough to enjoy my food without worrying how it will affect me. Brave period. I now hide in our small apartment and lean on Mike both physically and emotionally on my excursions out. Victories. Two steps forward. Followed by a false sense of defeating the disorder, then setback, guilt, another step back...and so it goes. And so it goes.
I firmly believe I was depressed for about a year or more leading up to my breakdown, but to change this much as a person seemingly overnight? I have never felt the rug be pulled out from under my already-unsteady feet that much in all my life. I am grieving the death of who I thought I was and he grief process is not neat or tidy in any way,
Is this negative self-talk toxic to my recovery? Absolutely. Do I know that I'll have an upswing and come out of this dark period to a less dark place? Yes, but it won't be what it was before my breakdown. I have a lot of work to do to get there. I hate that. Even on my "good" days I'm not good.
Two steps forward and one back, or is it the other way around? Not sure tonight.
-L-
Thursday, February 27, 2014
it's about to get real personal...my food journey
I have experienced panic attacks since high school. Very infrequently for the most part until the last year of college. I didn't know what they were until then. One way my anxiety has manifested itself, both in the past and now, is through my eating habits. Not as an eating disorder per se, but as a means of me trying to gain control in times where I feel I am spiraling out. For anyone that has ever felt that out of control, you know that I mean.
In my last year of college, I had a lot to think about and a major chapter was ending - lots to think about! Also happening simultaneously was the national news coverage of stories about various food items being recalled because they were contaminated with salmonella, E.Coli...you name it. This was jarring to me - I thought raw meats were something to avoid, not things like peanut butter (a favorite) and bagged spinach. I need to take action. I needed control.
It started with me swearing off those potentially contaminated items and slowly, my food safety window became smaller and smaller. By the second semester of my final year, I was not only applying to grad school and seeking out employment options for that summer and following academic year - I was also obsessing over how to prevent myself from getting food poisoning or being contaminated in any way. The school cafeteria became a very scary place...though it was already given the "mystery meat" and other goodies that the then-food service company tried to pass off to us overpaying students as "food."
Eventually, as I neared graduation, I was eating maybe 10-15 designated "safe" foods that I felt were OK to eat because they posed a low contamination risk. I was also eating many of my supermarket-purchased frozen meals in my res hall room or from the local mostly-vegetarian restaurant in town. So this was both costly and embarrassing for me, yet I managed to conceal my issues. The only noticeable symptom was my weight drop from a healthy 105-110lb to 96lbs. Folks in my life were concerned, but I blamed it all on high metabolism and no one questioned it.
It wasn't until halfway through my first semester of grad school (and many, many panic attacks later) that I sought out some good quality therapy (that thankfully came to me at no cost thanks to the university's Counseling Center) that I returned to gradual food normalcy. When things are stable (no major life changes, strong sense of security) and I am managing my anxiety and panic effectively with the aid of therapy (as of today, I am officially diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder and Panic Disorder with Agoraphobia), I am cautious and mindful about what I consume, but it doesn't consume me. It's annoying, but manageable.
Over the past 2-3 years or so, I underwent a great number of big life changes. And never allowed myself to process and tried to be strong and push it all aside to power through. I've been what I believe to be clinically depressed/anxious for the past year and this time I used food as a crutch. I weighed more in my late 20s than I ever did in my life. And then my breakdown happened - it all came to a head. Going through so many panic attacks in such a short time period is hardly an appetite stimulant. But thanks to therapy, an appetite-stimulating antidepressant and a positive support network, it hasn't been as much of an issue as it could have been.
I had a great Monday this past week with a successful doctor visit and three trips to the outside world (my beloved Target, to-go lunch at a pizza parlor with my love and a trip to grab groceries ALL BY MYSELF), but the rest of the week has been difficult with adjusting to new medicine and pushing my limits too much following my victory early in the week. When in the throes of my bad times, the last thing I want is a snack. But when things are good and I focus on the good thoughts that I trust, I am learning to use food in moderation as a comfort source. I have been cooking to help give me purpose and feel accomplished. A good nourishing meal gives me something to look forward to. And the meals I've eaten this week have been among the most healing and soothing ones I've experienced in some time.
This great big thing won't be cured overnight - but I am learning to accept the lows and enjoy the good times. And one of these days, the good times will outnumber the bad. I continue to thank all that read this for their prayers and support. I am eternally grateful.
-L-
In my last year of college, I had a lot to think about and a major chapter was ending - lots to think about! Also happening simultaneously was the national news coverage of stories about various food items being recalled because they were contaminated with salmonella, E.Coli...you name it. This was jarring to me - I thought raw meats were something to avoid, not things like peanut butter (a favorite) and bagged spinach. I need to take action. I needed control.
It started with me swearing off those potentially contaminated items and slowly, my food safety window became smaller and smaller. By the second semester of my final year, I was not only applying to grad school and seeking out employment options for that summer and following academic year - I was also obsessing over how to prevent myself from getting food poisoning or being contaminated in any way. The school cafeteria became a very scary place...though it was already given the "mystery meat" and other goodies that the then-food service company tried to pass off to us overpaying students as "food."
Eventually, as I neared graduation, I was eating maybe 10-15 designated "safe" foods that I felt were OK to eat because they posed a low contamination risk. I was also eating many of my supermarket-purchased frozen meals in my res hall room or from the local mostly-vegetarian restaurant in town. So this was both costly and embarrassing for me, yet I managed to conceal my issues. The only noticeable symptom was my weight drop from a healthy 105-110lb to 96lbs. Folks in my life were concerned, but I blamed it all on high metabolism and no one questioned it.
It wasn't until halfway through my first semester of grad school (and many, many panic attacks later) that I sought out some good quality therapy (that thankfully came to me at no cost thanks to the university's Counseling Center) that I returned to gradual food normalcy. When things are stable (no major life changes, strong sense of security) and I am managing my anxiety and panic effectively with the aid of therapy (as of today, I am officially diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder and Panic Disorder with Agoraphobia), I am cautious and mindful about what I consume, but it doesn't consume me. It's annoying, but manageable.
Over the past 2-3 years or so, I underwent a great number of big life changes. And never allowed myself to process and tried to be strong and push it all aside to power through. I've been what I believe to be clinically depressed/anxious for the past year and this time I used food as a crutch. I weighed more in my late 20s than I ever did in my life. And then my breakdown happened - it all came to a head. Going through so many panic attacks in such a short time period is hardly an appetite stimulant. But thanks to therapy, an appetite-stimulating antidepressant and a positive support network, it hasn't been as much of an issue as it could have been.
I had a great Monday this past week with a successful doctor visit and three trips to the outside world (my beloved Target, to-go lunch at a pizza parlor with my love and a trip to grab groceries ALL BY MYSELF), but the rest of the week has been difficult with adjusting to new medicine and pushing my limits too much following my victory early in the week. When in the throes of my bad times, the last thing I want is a snack. But when things are good and I focus on the good thoughts that I trust, I am learning to use food in moderation as a comfort source. I have been cooking to help give me purpose and feel accomplished. A good nourishing meal gives me something to look forward to. And the meals I've eaten this week have been among the most healing and soothing ones I've experienced in some time.
This great big thing won't be cured overnight - but I am learning to accept the lows and enjoy the good times. And one of these days, the good times will outnumber the bad. I continue to thank all that read this for their prayers and support. I am eternally grateful.
-L-
Sunday, February 23, 2014
finding peace in the dark
Don't let the post title fool you - dark is meant literally and is not a metaphor for where I am at emotionally.
When I am at my most panicky (anticipating an outing or thinking about a stressor), it's hard to prevent myself from spiraling into a panic attack. One of the things I am learning in therapy is how to listen to the voices in my head that I trust and to give the voices I don't trust less stage time. So I'll share with you some of the things that I trust in today:
When reminding myself of all these things doesn't work, I have medicine to help. Or, the smell of lavender in a dark room is calming. I am actually typing this from the comfort of my pitch-black living room lit only by the TV. Being in the dark is soothing - it makes the world seem a little bit smaller and allows me to recuperate from the day's events. Also, having a hot water bottle or heat pad nearby can be very soothing to muscles that ache from being tense all day.
So I keep on getting out there and working on my recovery-but it's nice to know I have this sanctuary to retreat to at the end of a tiring day.
-L-
When I am at my most panicky (anticipating an outing or thinking about a stressor), it's hard to prevent myself from spiraling into a panic attack. One of the things I am learning in therapy is how to listen to the voices in my head that I trust and to give the voices I don't trust less stage time. So I'll share with you some of the things that I trust in today:
- I trust that my partner loves me wholly and will be there in sickness and in health.
- I trust that my family and good friends love me and will be there for me through this journey and afterwards when I come out on the other side.
- I trust that the things I used to do before my breakdown (that never caused me stress or pain before) are safe and that I will re-learn how to do these things with ease little by little.
- I trust that I can overcome this and that it will take some time.
When reminding myself of all these things doesn't work, I have medicine to help. Or, the smell of lavender in a dark room is calming. I am actually typing this from the comfort of my pitch-black living room lit only by the TV. Being in the dark is soothing - it makes the world seem a little bit smaller and allows me to recuperate from the day's events. Also, having a hot water bottle or heat pad nearby can be very soothing to muscles that ache from being tense all day.
So I keep on getting out there and working on my recovery-but it's nice to know I have this sanctuary to retreat to at the end of a tiring day.
-L-
Monday, February 17, 2014
battling those bad thoughts
In spite of having a difficult past few days, I think I am very slowly realizing how toxic it is to worry about things in the future that I can do nothing about today. I have always been a "planner" and try my best to make sure I am as prepared as possible for anything that may pop up in the future. While in many workplaces and in the mindsets of the more scatterbrained, this may be looked upon as a positive attribute, I think it's also one of my flaws.
Worrying about what a mess I'll be in my next therapy visit doesn't help me five days before the visit. Worrying about my parents' health and aging now doesn't help them to be any healthier and it's not something I can control. The negative "what-ifs" have become poison to my recovery and I am working very hard to re-route my ways of thinking and to be kinder to myself.
I write this today from a clear mindset, but I know that in battling my disorder all of this may not be easily remembered while in the throes of a panic attack. Hopefully if things are darker at any point in the near future, I'll have the sense to look back at this entry to remind myself of this revelation.
I am working to get better because I miss walks outside. I miss being able to go shopping with ease. I miss seeing friends and family. These things may not come back to me easily or overnight, but I am determined to learn how to manage and live with the negativity (and not bottle it inside) so that I am able to get back to the good stuff =)
Worrying about what a mess I'll be in my next therapy visit doesn't help me five days before the visit. Worrying about my parents' health and aging now doesn't help them to be any healthier and it's not something I can control. The negative "what-ifs" have become poison to my recovery and I am working very hard to re-route my ways of thinking and to be kinder to myself.
I write this today from a clear mindset, but I know that in battling my disorder all of this may not be easily remembered while in the throes of a panic attack. Hopefully if things are darker at any point in the near future, I'll have the sense to look back at this entry to remind myself of this revelation.
I am working to get better because I miss walks outside. I miss being able to go shopping with ease. I miss seeing friends and family. These things may not come back to me easily or overnight, but I am determined to learn how to manage and live with the negativity (and not bottle it inside) so that I am able to get back to the good stuff =)
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
A hard few days
So the past few days have been very difficult.
I had two doctor appointments lined up. My psychiatrist canceled at the last minute. The weather and other factors have caused a few of my scheduled appointments to be canceled, which is a real toughie in my world. I have to psych myself up to go to these appointments because they make me apprehensive.
So now I'm in a setback of sorts, panicking 24/7 ans scared of the outside world/missing my old life. But there is some hope. I am working with my therapist to have some home visits to help ease me into therapy. And I am modifying my medicines under doctor care to see if it helps any. I pray that this all helps - I'm tired of intense panic and fear and being scared to do EVERYTHING.
I really do miss pieces of my old life - being able to socialize with friends, not being afraid to leave the house on my own, feeling more self-sufficient. But the little bit of me that remains optimistic holds on to hope that I can regain pieces of my old self back. In addition, I hope I can do away with the things that led to this meltdown and rebuild myself to be healthier and more resilient.
I know there is hope. I don't always have it, but I know there has to be a light at the end of this tunnel. There just has to be!
I had two doctor appointments lined up. My psychiatrist canceled at the last minute. The weather and other factors have caused a few of my scheduled appointments to be canceled, which is a real toughie in my world. I have to psych myself up to go to these appointments because they make me apprehensive.
So now I'm in a setback of sorts, panicking 24/7 ans scared of the outside world/missing my old life. But there is some hope. I am working with my therapist to have some home visits to help ease me into therapy. And I am modifying my medicines under doctor care to see if it helps any. I pray that this all helps - I'm tired of intense panic and fear and being scared to do EVERYTHING.
I really do miss pieces of my old life - being able to socialize with friends, not being afraid to leave the house on my own, feeling more self-sufficient. But the little bit of me that remains optimistic holds on to hope that I can regain pieces of my old self back. In addition, I hope I can do away with the things that led to this meltdown and rebuild myself to be healthier and more resilient.
I know there is hope. I don't always have it, but I know there has to be a light at the end of this tunnel. There just has to be!
Saturday, February 8, 2014
Setbacks when recovering from anxiety...apparently they're inevitable
Today's been a bad day. I'm not gonna lie. Over the past couple of days, I feel as though I've taken the "one step back" in my philosophy that me recovering from this means I'll take two steps forward, one step back as I go. The good news is that means I am always moving forward. But lemme tell you, those back-steps are agonizing.
I had a really awful panic attack at home today. I had hoped to go out alone today as I had yesterday (small trip to Target all by myself and I didn't die=small victory), but the memory of how scared I was in Target made me all the more apprehensive to get back out there today without company. And I have two doctor's appointments this week that I am very afraid of panicking at.
I know in the long run I need these doctors to help me get better, but it doesn't make overcoming the hurdles any less scary. Or experiencing the setbacks any less heartbreaking. It's infuriating and very scary to not be able to operate at full capacity like I once was (or thought I was) before this all came to a head.
I gotta say though, the way things were before did me no good - just going through the motions, putting on a happy face and not telling my loved ones how overwhelmed I felt. So that is improvement in itself. Through all of this, I am really discovering what I want out of life and that is a good thing.
Please keep the good vibes, prayers and encouragement coming - I really need it and continue to thank you all each night I pray and thank God for my support system. I have received support from some of the most unlikely sources and it's been truly humbling. And I pray for you all as well.
-L-
I had a really awful panic attack at home today. I had hoped to go out alone today as I had yesterday (small trip to Target all by myself and I didn't die=small victory), but the memory of how scared I was in Target made me all the more apprehensive to get back out there today without company. And I have two doctor's appointments this week that I am very afraid of panicking at.
I know in the long run I need these doctors to help me get better, but it doesn't make overcoming the hurdles any less scary. Or experiencing the setbacks any less heartbreaking. It's infuriating and very scary to not be able to operate at full capacity like I once was (or thought I was) before this all came to a head.
I gotta say though, the way things were before did me no good - just going through the motions, putting on a happy face and not telling my loved ones how overwhelmed I felt. So that is improvement in itself. Through all of this, I am really discovering what I want out of life and that is a good thing.
Please keep the good vibes, prayers and encouragement coming - I really need it and continue to thank you all each night I pray and thank God for my support system. I have received support from some of the most unlikely sources and it's been truly humbling. And I pray for you all as well.
-L-
Friday, February 7, 2014
Focusing on the important things
Since late December, I've been spending a LOT of time in our apartment thinking. Some of my thinking, as a product of my depression, is irrational and heartbreaking. But when logic rears it's much-desired head and I'm able to think clearly as "me" I've been thinking about what's really important to me.
It's literally been years since I focused on what's really important in life. I've been so busy shopping, making to-do lists, focusing on my five-year plan, obsessing about my career...and ignoring the signs that I was very unhappy and scared. And ignoring the things that matter the most.
One thing I value more now than I ever have is time with family. This past holiday season (pre-breakdown, of course) was wonderful in that I got to spend time with my family and Mike's family in abundance. The weeks leading up to my breakdown were great with regards to my personal life because of all the family/friend togetherness. I think of that as I slowly push myself to re-enter the world.
One of the saddest aspects of depression/anxiety is that it can be a very lonely and isolating illness. My agoraphobic tendencies as of recently have made it so that I haven't seen much of my family and friends. When folks find out you're ailing, they check in on you regularly. Since progress overcoming depression and anxiety can be slow and shaky, their lives inevitably go on at a speed that's faster than your recovery. This is no one's fault and it just makes me want to try harder to get better and to rejoin society.
Hoping that the warmer weather comes soon so that I have one more reason to come out from the dark.
It's literally been years since I focused on what's really important in life. I've been so busy shopping, making to-do lists, focusing on my five-year plan, obsessing about my career...and ignoring the signs that I was very unhappy and scared. And ignoring the things that matter the most.
One thing I value more now than I ever have is time with family. This past holiday season (pre-breakdown, of course) was wonderful in that I got to spend time with my family and Mike's family in abundance. The weeks leading up to my breakdown were great with regards to my personal life because of all the family/friend togetherness. I think of that as I slowly push myself to re-enter the world.
One of the saddest aspects of depression/anxiety is that it can be a very lonely and isolating illness. My agoraphobic tendencies as of recently have made it so that I haven't seen much of my family and friends. When folks find out you're ailing, they check in on you regularly. Since progress overcoming depression and anxiety can be slow and shaky, their lives inevitably go on at a speed that's faster than your recovery. This is no one's fault and it just makes me want to try harder to get better and to rejoin society.
Hoping that the warmer weather comes soon so that I have one more reason to come out from the dark.
Tuesday, February 4, 2014
Trying to make sense of my anxiety
I think one of the most frustrating parts of coping with depression and anxiety/panic is that I continually try to make sense of it all. I try to figure out what situations, which people, which circumstances serve as triggers and them avoid them. Though as time goes on, my world becomes smaller and smaller and before I know it the illness consumes me. And the symptoms of my anxiety are sometimes very standard, but other times are abnormal and not as common. Cue more panic.
This is no way to live. And I know that. It doesn't make the recovery process any easier to partake in, but it does make the process more essential. So I push myself to do what I need to do in order to get on the road to being my new and improved self. And I allow myself to relinquish control when it's necessary, rather than worrying about and trying to control every little thing. And I allow myself to fail. And celebrate the small victories (today's being a trip to the Post Office).
I also have to remind myself that what I can control I need to develop confidence in. For example, if I know I turned off the stove, I need to have confidence in knowing that rather than checking 20 times to verify what I already know to be true.
This journey is teaching me that I really am safe and competent - a big aspect of suffering through anxiety and panic attacks is that one does not feel safe or in control of her environment. That feeling of being out of control is terrifying. I am learning what I can control and what I can't (the thoughts and actions of others, the environment, etc.) This doesn't mean I've mastered what I can control but it does provide me with a starting point for what I need to work on.
It's hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel, but I'm slowly learning to let a little bit of sun in.
-L-
This is no way to live. And I know that. It doesn't make the recovery process any easier to partake in, but it does make the process more essential. So I push myself to do what I need to do in order to get on the road to being my new and improved self. And I allow myself to relinquish control when it's necessary, rather than worrying about and trying to control every little thing. And I allow myself to fail. And celebrate the small victories (today's being a trip to the Post Office).
I also have to remind myself that what I can control I need to develop confidence in. For example, if I know I turned off the stove, I need to have confidence in knowing that rather than checking 20 times to verify what I already know to be true.
This journey is teaching me that I really am safe and competent - a big aspect of suffering through anxiety and panic attacks is that one does not feel safe or in control of her environment. That feeling of being out of control is terrifying. I am learning what I can control and what I can't (the thoughts and actions of others, the environment, etc.) This doesn't mean I've mastered what I can control but it does provide me with a starting point for what I need to work on.
It's hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel, but I'm slowly learning to let a little bit of sun in.
-L-
Monday, February 3, 2014
The Blog for Mental Health 2014 Pledge
“I pledge my commitment to the Blog for Mental Health 2014 Project. I will blog about mental health topics not only for myself, but for others. By displaying this badge, I show my pride, dedication, and acceptance for mental health. I use this to promote mental health education in the struggle to erase stigma.”
As difficult as it is for me to "come out" with regards to what I'm dealing with, I hope that this blog helps provide folks dealing with anxiety disorders some relief in knowing that others out in the world suffer from the same affliction and symptoms. I use the term relief loosely, as I know firsthand how pervasive and all-encompassing it can be to live with an anxiety disorder. Some of what I've been dealing with since my breakdown has been downright debilitating (panic attacks, hard to breathe, agoraphobic symptoms). It's hard to imagine a light at the end of the tunnel when this illness prevents the sufferer from working, socializing and going about a normal daily life. I will say that since I started using my current antidepressant, I have slowly found myself able to return to some normal activities. But it's still an uphill battle - I know in my heart of hearts that it will all be OK at some point and it does get better. I know it's entirely possible that in three months, I'll be in much better shape. Still, it's a constant battle with the anxiety/negativity in my head. And that definitely wears on even the strongest person.
Even so, I will continue my trend of reflecting on the positives that have come from my battle with anxiety and panic. I have suffered from some form of this illness for years (my memories of having OCD tendencies date as far back as third grade). It's typically just a mild part of my life that I thought I was able to manage well, but I have experienced moderate episodes in my past that typically happened around stressful periods or times of massive change (graduation from high school, graduation from college, start of grad school coinciding with the end of my longest-term relationship to date, etc.) This is the worst episode I've experienced yet, and why I believe it happened will be detailed in a later post, most likely after continued therapy.
As difficult as it is for me to "come out" with regards to what I'm dealing with, I hope that this blog helps provide folks dealing with anxiety disorders some relief in knowing that others out in the world suffer from the same affliction and symptoms. I use the term relief loosely, as I know firsthand how pervasive and all-encompassing it can be to live with an anxiety disorder. Some of what I've been dealing with since my breakdown has been downright debilitating (panic attacks, hard to breathe, agoraphobic symptoms). It's hard to imagine a light at the end of the tunnel when this illness prevents the sufferer from working, socializing and going about a normal daily life. I will say that since I started using my current antidepressant, I have slowly found myself able to return to some normal activities. But it's still an uphill battle - I know in my heart of hearts that it will all be OK at some point and it does get better. I know it's entirely possible that in three months, I'll be in much better shape. Still, it's a constant battle with the anxiety/negativity in my head. And that definitely wears on even the strongest person.
Even so, I will continue my trend of reflecting on the positives that have come from my battle with anxiety and panic. I have suffered from some form of this illness for years (my memories of having OCD tendencies date as far back as third grade). It's typically just a mild part of my life that I thought I was able to manage well, but I have experienced moderate episodes in my past that typically happened around stressful periods or times of massive change (graduation from high school, graduation from college, start of grad school coinciding with the end of my longest-term relationship to date, etc.) This is the worst episode I've experienced yet, and why I believe it happened will be detailed in a later post, most likely after continued therapy.
Saturday, February 1, 2014
Minimalism and lack of vanity in the face of anxiety
One of the hardest things for me to do is focus on the positive things that have come from the state of distress I've been in lately.
I have experienced small victories throughout all of this. Being able to go out in public bravely, cleaning the house, cooking dinner, maintaining contact with those close to me...all victories when you're feeling panic/anxiousness/agoraphobia, believe it or not.
I experience the "two steps forward, one step back" phenomenon. Which is positive because it means I'm moving forward, but the steps back are crushing blows when all you want is to feel better and to feel "normal."
But I will say this: my breakdown has shown me that vanity is not a feeling I want to have any more. Prior to this, I was hating on myself for being the heaviest I've ever been, always had to do my hair before I left the house (and it had to be perfect), and felt the need to have certain brands/styles of clothing in order to feel pretty/accepted by society. No more of that. I have grown to appreciate what I do have in terms of material items, I've stopped caring what others think of me looks-wise (I just need to start caring a little more than the total apathy that's present lately), and I have been working to minimize some of my personal belongings.
While it's been easy to do an early Spring Cleaning in the physical world, the cleaning that my mind needs to undergo is not as simple.
I have experienced small victories throughout all of this. Being able to go out in public bravely, cleaning the house, cooking dinner, maintaining contact with those close to me...all victories when you're feeling panic/anxiousness/agoraphobia, believe it or not.
I experience the "two steps forward, one step back" phenomenon. Which is positive because it means I'm moving forward, but the steps back are crushing blows when all you want is to feel better and to feel "normal."
But I will say this: my breakdown has shown me that vanity is not a feeling I want to have any more. Prior to this, I was hating on myself for being the heaviest I've ever been, always had to do my hair before I left the house (and it had to be perfect), and felt the need to have certain brands/styles of clothing in order to feel pretty/accepted by society. No more of that. I have grown to appreciate what I do have in terms of material items, I've stopped caring what others think of me looks-wise (I just need to start caring a little more than the total apathy that's present lately), and I have been working to minimize some of my personal belongings.
While it's been easy to do an early Spring Cleaning in the physical world, the cleaning that my mind needs to undergo is not as simple.
Thursday, January 30, 2014
Coping with my major depressive episode
For those that don't know me well or those I've lost regular contact with, it's important that I preface all future blog posts with the following information:
Starting right after the 2013 holiday season, I began to suffer through what I consider to be a nervous breakdown/major depressive episode. The best way for me to describe what I went through and continue to go through is to compare it to having the rug physically taken out from under you. My breakdown is basically that, but more all-encompassing - a constant wave of shame, fear, guilt, anguish and vulnerability.
Some good has come from this. I plan to discuss that in future posts. But since December 27th, 2013, I have been out of the house rarely, except for a few grocery store visits or rides to pick up takeout meals. Most of those short excursions have been with my partner in crime and in life, my Michael. He has been my caretaker, my therapy and my complete support. I am eternally grateful to him for all that he has done to prove that he is here for me in sickness and in health.
Aside from Mike and my parents (and random folks I see in grocery stores and restaurants), I have not seen anyone except for medical professionals and my neighbors in passing. It's a vicious cycle because I know that being around others will make me feel better, yet I am scared to be around people - my mind automatically flashes to Fat Bastard in the "Austin Powers" movies when he states that, "I eat because I am unhappy, and I am unhappy because I eat." I am thankful that I have some shreds of humor left in my system through all of this.
The good news is I think I am slowly getting better. I am using a series of different tools to help me through this, but the bad news is there's no quick fix or easy cure. Generalized anxiety, panic attacks, depression and OCD symptoms are something I've always dealt with on and off throughout my life. This episode is merely a culmination of the lack of care I provided myself with when things were bearable. My mind and body are tired of pretending everything is OK.
I am tired of lying to people about this major part of who I am and the life I live. From this point forward, it's almost as if I have to re-learn how to do so many of the things that used to be second nature. It's daunting - I have plenty of crying fits, panic attacks, mornings where I don't want to wake up and so on. But weirdly enough, it's brought a lot of good things to the forefront. For that, I am and will continue to be thankful. There are so many blogs and stories out in the internet universe from anxiety/depression survivors that focus on the negative and I think that focusing on the bad hasn't been doing me any good. So even on the bad days, I'll make a point of it to look at the positive effects of this fragile time in my life.
-L-
Starting right after the 2013 holiday season, I began to suffer through what I consider to be a nervous breakdown/major depressive episode. The best way for me to describe what I went through and continue to go through is to compare it to having the rug physically taken out from under you. My breakdown is basically that, but more all-encompassing - a constant wave of shame, fear, guilt, anguish and vulnerability.
Some good has come from this. I plan to discuss that in future posts. But since December 27th, 2013, I have been out of the house rarely, except for a few grocery store visits or rides to pick up takeout meals. Most of those short excursions have been with my partner in crime and in life, my Michael. He has been my caretaker, my therapy and my complete support. I am eternally grateful to him for all that he has done to prove that he is here for me in sickness and in health.
Aside from Mike and my parents (and random folks I see in grocery stores and restaurants), I have not seen anyone except for medical professionals and my neighbors in passing. It's a vicious cycle because I know that being around others will make me feel better, yet I am scared to be around people - my mind automatically flashes to Fat Bastard in the "Austin Powers" movies when he states that, "I eat because I am unhappy, and I am unhappy because I eat." I am thankful that I have some shreds of humor left in my system through all of this.
The good news is I think I am slowly getting better. I am using a series of different tools to help me through this, but the bad news is there's no quick fix or easy cure. Generalized anxiety, panic attacks, depression and OCD symptoms are something I've always dealt with on and off throughout my life. This episode is merely a culmination of the lack of care I provided myself with when things were bearable. My mind and body are tired of pretending everything is OK.
I am tired of lying to people about this major part of who I am and the life I live. From this point forward, it's almost as if I have to re-learn how to do so many of the things that used to be second nature. It's daunting - I have plenty of crying fits, panic attacks, mornings where I don't want to wake up and so on. But weirdly enough, it's brought a lot of good things to the forefront. For that, I am and will continue to be thankful. There are so many blogs and stories out in the internet universe from anxiety/depression survivors that focus on the negative and I think that focusing on the bad hasn't been doing me any good. So even on the bad days, I'll make a point of it to look at the positive effects of this fragile time in my life.
-L-
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