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
Showing posts with label nervous breakdown. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nervous breakdown. Show all posts
Sunday, February 1, 2015
Friday, June 6, 2014
Sometimes you feel like a nut...
So the good news is that I survived being on my own for Mike's first of two conferences this month. It was just me and my beautiful feline child Lucky. I got a lot of work done, cleaned house like no other and read The Pioneer Woman's autobiography. Also crossed off many Pinterest projects from my to-do list. All in all, a success as perceived by the outside world. But I was scared that I regressed back to January me because I didn't have the strength to leave the house alone. Some would say I had the strength to know my own boundaries, but often we are our own worst critic.
I wasn't ready to face the outside world while one of my support pillars was five hours away. Kinda knew that would happen, but I set myself up to fail, by expecting to somehow cure myself while he was gone. I also wasn't ready to see close friends alone again. Anxiety is a lonely illness; it's such a contradiction that I am lonesome, yet scared to be alone around people that I would normally consider good friends and pleasant company. I have worked up to social events including Mike in-house (Parks and Rec Netflix binges, anyone?) and shopping/task-based outings close to the apartment...but there is still a lot of "scary" stuff out there.
It's so difficult to redirect my thought processes to be positive and self-supporting when I am frustrated that my recovery process is going slower than expected. Before I broke down, I was go-go-go...perhaps part of the problem that led to the breakdown in the first place! But nonetheless, I thrived on being goal oriented, task focused and social. Now I am a whole new me and I don't yet know what is best for the new me. Trying to figure that out is easy on some days; on others it feels like learning how to walk and talk again.
While I feel the waves of support from friends and family, this illness causes a loneliness and feeling of grief over the loss of my old self that is a heavy cross to bear. While I averwhwlmingly thankful for and do recognize all of the good in my life, I'm still really devastated and learning how to walk through life again. During these times when my partner in crime is physically gone for work, the "bad thoughts" rear their ugly head and I am predisposed to focus more on those thoughts than the real, balanced and often positive affirming thoughts.
Still trying though. Every day. And whatever you're dealing with (we're all dealing with our own crosses, after all), I encourage you all to do the same. Don't let yourself be too lonely. And don't be afraid to pray and have faith in the way that suits you best. <3
L
Sunday, May 18, 2014
Understanding
So the past couple of weeks have been good ones, in my book. Therapy has slowly but surely become more of a helpful resource than a source of fear. I had my first hour-long full session in-office since the new year began and it felt good to open up. I've also really put myself out there socially, trying to encourage myself to engage in small friendly interactions with store clerks, librarians, customer service personnel for the cable company, etc. It's not always easy and it's definitely not effortless, but my worst fear is living like a hermit.
The past few months have been lonely because friends and family have tread lightly and provided space for me to heal, and I am forever grateful. But I do miss them terribly. It's too painful to be so isolated all of the time. By far one of the worst things about being agoraphobic is that folks don't understand what it is. A couple of weeks ago, I was conversing with a phone rep for one of my student loan companies. At the time, phone conversations were just a little more difficult to ensure than they are nowadays. I explained this to the representative on the other line and he actually took the time to ask what agoraphobia is, which was above and beyond the line of customer service duty. Kudos to him! But it's true - no one knows what it really means. I've even had to do some reading to really "get it." Agoraphobes are thought of as reclusive and not wanting to leave their houses. ALL I want to do is leave the house - I just get scared to for fear that I'll suffer a public, humiliating panic episode. The fear has lessened a lot, but I still struggle. I dream of the day when I can go back to making a Target run without putting too much premeditated thought into the process.
Another common misconception is that agoraphobes don't want to be around people or, on the opposite end, are scared to be alone. Neither is fully true. My biggest fear leaving home is that I will lose control and panic and others will witness the perceived weakness. I also get scared to be along for long periods because I miss the comfort of a hug or a kind word when things are feeling a bit low. But as a Myers-Briggs ESTJ by nature, I miss good company. I miss happy hours with friends or workplace camaraderie with colleagues. I miss hugs and physical affection, which is hard to obtain regularly when your life partner works second shift and you are too scared to join in on your friends' adventures.
Working from home has been the best thing for me in this season of life - I have been working freelance as a resume writer for some time now and started doing it on a very limited basis when I was in the worst stages of my breakdown. Helping provide monetarily for my family and myself is a HUGE self-esteem thing for me. God knew this and provided me with an opportunity to preserve some of my dignity at a time when I didn't know what the future held in regards to returning to the full-time position I was in from June until I got sick. But I miss the good stuff...the fun conversations, the professional development opportunities, access to good reads and other valuable resources, etc.
Now that freelancing is my only gig, I am thankful for the positive experience, the fact that I have a job directly related to my B.A. and somewhat related to my M.Ed., and to have found an unexpected outlet for my writing abilities and interest. I am also thankful to not have to deal with the other side of the coin that comes with working in an environment outside of the home - having to explain my disorder to others who may not know or understand. Being in control of my own destiny is exciting and I am grateful to have the flexibility of being my own boss. I can rest on a "bad day" and not have to be ashamed to explain to others why I am going home early.
In my experience over the past decade or so, the working public has used the term "mental health day" as a joking term used when one is weary, sick of work and wants to justify taking a day off. Folks suffering from actual mental and emotional illnesses legitimately need those days in addition to physical sickness days. Those "bad days" are just as bad as sick days are for folks that suffer from a cold or flu. And it's harder to explain or rationalize because the symptoms are invisible. I can't tell you how many people have told me since the signs pf my breakdown began to come on in November that they had no idea that I have GAD, panic disorder and agoraphobia because I held it together so well for so long. It makes me feel good to know I am a great actress (perhaps a future career possibility?) but it doesn't feel good or nice to hear that others think less of GAD's severity because it doesn't always come with a physical symptom, i.e. fever and a sinus infection. It also doesn't come with a cure-all antibiotic, which makes it all the more challenging to treat. And I have had plenty of irritable belly episodes, heart palpitations and episodes of depersonalization, so trust me the physical side is no picnic.
No matter how accepting others may be of anxiety disorders, I've come to learn that there is a lot of misunderstanding associated with them. Granted, it's light years ahead of what it used to be like in high school and college (I felt alone and scared many times in those days), but society has a long way to go in working to understand and empathize with sufferers. Anxiety disorders affect a surprisingly large number of the world's population and that's no small thing to ignore.
Sometimes love is all you need and it's the best medicine possible. I am thankful for all the doses of love that have come my way these past few months. So practice loving, understanding and compassion - you never know what your friend or loved one may be going through privately. And you don't know just how impactful a hug, kind word or continued check-in can be for someone.
Until next time <3
L
The past few months have been lonely because friends and family have tread lightly and provided space for me to heal, and I am forever grateful. But I do miss them terribly. It's too painful to be so isolated all of the time. By far one of the worst things about being agoraphobic is that folks don't understand what it is. A couple of weeks ago, I was conversing with a phone rep for one of my student loan companies. At the time, phone conversations were just a little more difficult to ensure than they are nowadays. I explained this to the representative on the other line and he actually took the time to ask what agoraphobia is, which was above and beyond the line of customer service duty. Kudos to him! But it's true - no one knows what it really means. I've even had to do some reading to really "get it." Agoraphobes are thought of as reclusive and not wanting to leave their houses. ALL I want to do is leave the house - I just get scared to for fear that I'll suffer a public, humiliating panic episode. The fear has lessened a lot, but I still struggle. I dream of the day when I can go back to making a Target run without putting too much premeditated thought into the process.
Another common misconception is that agoraphobes don't want to be around people or, on the opposite end, are scared to be alone. Neither is fully true. My biggest fear leaving home is that I will lose control and panic and others will witness the perceived weakness. I also get scared to be along for long periods because I miss the comfort of a hug or a kind word when things are feeling a bit low. But as a Myers-Briggs ESTJ by nature, I miss good company. I miss happy hours with friends or workplace camaraderie with colleagues. I miss hugs and physical affection, which is hard to obtain regularly when your life partner works second shift and you are too scared to join in on your friends' adventures.
Working from home has been the best thing for me in this season of life - I have been working freelance as a resume writer for some time now and started doing it on a very limited basis when I was in the worst stages of my breakdown. Helping provide monetarily for my family and myself is a HUGE self-esteem thing for me. God knew this and provided me with an opportunity to preserve some of my dignity at a time when I didn't know what the future held in regards to returning to the full-time position I was in from June until I got sick. But I miss the good stuff...the fun conversations, the professional development opportunities, access to good reads and other valuable resources, etc.
Now that freelancing is my only gig, I am thankful for the positive experience, the fact that I have a job directly related to my B.A. and somewhat related to my M.Ed., and to have found an unexpected outlet for my writing abilities and interest. I am also thankful to not have to deal with the other side of the coin that comes with working in an environment outside of the home - having to explain my disorder to others who may not know or understand. Being in control of my own destiny is exciting and I am grateful to have the flexibility of being my own boss. I can rest on a "bad day" and not have to be ashamed to explain to others why I am going home early.
In my experience over the past decade or so, the working public has used the term "mental health day" as a joking term used when one is weary, sick of work and wants to justify taking a day off. Folks suffering from actual mental and emotional illnesses legitimately need those days in addition to physical sickness days. Those "bad days" are just as bad as sick days are for folks that suffer from a cold or flu. And it's harder to explain or rationalize because the symptoms are invisible. I can't tell you how many people have told me since the signs pf my breakdown began to come on in November that they had no idea that I have GAD, panic disorder and agoraphobia because I held it together so well for so long. It makes me feel good to know I am a great actress (perhaps a future career possibility?) but it doesn't feel good or nice to hear that others think less of GAD's severity because it doesn't always come with a physical symptom, i.e. fever and a sinus infection. It also doesn't come with a cure-all antibiotic, which makes it all the more challenging to treat. And I have had plenty of irritable belly episodes, heart palpitations and episodes of depersonalization, so trust me the physical side is no picnic.
No matter how accepting others may be of anxiety disorders, I've come to learn that there is a lot of misunderstanding associated with them. Granted, it's light years ahead of what it used to be like in high school and college (I felt alone and scared many times in those days), but society has a long way to go in working to understand and empathize with sufferers. Anxiety disorders affect a surprisingly large number of the world's population and that's no small thing to ignore.
Sometimes love is all you need and it's the best medicine possible. I am thankful for all the doses of love that have come my way these past few months. So practice loving, understanding and compassion - you never know what your friend or loved one may be going through privately. And you don't know just how impactful a hug, kind word or continued check-in can be for someone.
Until next time <3
L
Tuesday, March 18, 2014
Gratitude
I'm gonna try a different approach tonight. As you may have gathered, my past week and a half as been ROUGH. I feel as though I am at square one in some regards....back to my post-Christmas mess. In other ways though, I am much better off. I've overcome hurdles, received support from both unexpected and anticipated sources, started a medicinal regimen that may finally be a winner, and I am able to snap out of severe panic attacks faster than I used to in the past. Trying not to focus on the heartbreak of the accompanying agoraphobia and the frequency of my attacks.
But I am tired of being so gloomy all of the time. I have been struggling to get myself out of this negative mindset because I don't think it helps the recovery process when setbacks occur. So I am going to try gratitude for a change.
I am grateful that I was able to earn two academic degrees (both above a 3.5 final GPA) before the age of 30. I am grateful for my family. I am grateful that I finally found a partner that is worthy of all the fuss I bestow upon him. I am grateful that no one in my support network has made me feel guilty for what I've endured (yes, there are folks out there who are from the "just get over it" school of thought - sometimes I am guilty of that negative self-talk myself). I am grateful that no matter how bad the panic attack, the feeling is finite. I am grateful for in-house animal therapy thanks to our two wonderful furry companions. As a side note, don't underestimate the power of animal therapy. My cat, Lucky, was around for my last (not as) severe breakdown and I am fully convinced I wouldn't have made it through had it not been for her love.
I am grateful that I've been able to maintain good relationships with many friends that have come in and out of my life, even if life drags us farther apart emotionally and/or physically. I am grateful that I have the privilege of being able to pick and choose foods that aid in my recovery process. I am grateful that I know what I am suffering from and can acknowledge that deep down, I'm not crazy.
I am grateful. Scared, sometimes sad, but grateful. Let's keep that vibe going.
-L-
But I am tired of being so gloomy all of the time. I have been struggling to get myself out of this negative mindset because I don't think it helps the recovery process when setbacks occur. So I am going to try gratitude for a change.
I am grateful that I was able to earn two academic degrees (both above a 3.5 final GPA) before the age of 30. I am grateful for my family. I am grateful that I finally found a partner that is worthy of all the fuss I bestow upon him. I am grateful that no one in my support network has made me feel guilty for what I've endured (yes, there are folks out there who are from the "just get over it" school of thought - sometimes I am guilty of that negative self-talk myself). I am grateful that no matter how bad the panic attack, the feeling is finite. I am grateful for in-house animal therapy thanks to our two wonderful furry companions. As a side note, don't underestimate the power of animal therapy. My cat, Lucky, was around for my last (not as) severe breakdown and I am fully convinced I wouldn't have made it through had it not been for her love.
I am grateful that I've been able to maintain good relationships with many friends that have come in and out of my life, even if life drags us farther apart emotionally and/or physically. I am grateful that I have the privilege of being able to pick and choose foods that aid in my recovery process. I am grateful that I know what I am suffering from and can acknowledge that deep down, I'm not crazy.
I am grateful. Scared, sometimes sad, but grateful. Let's keep that vibe going.
-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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