I think I can speak for most of the American public when I say that most people can say they know something about anxiety or know someone who struggles with an anxiety disorder. However, I think the perception of what anxiety really looks like is actually pretty flawed. So after a particularly bad flare up of anxiety for me this morning, I thought I'd share what it looks like to go through a morning with severe anxiety. This is a little more vulnerable than normal for me, but here we go!
This is me. This is often what anxiety looks like for me- I am not screaming, crying, pacing the room or anxiously talking about a decision I cannot make. No, this is me huddled under my weighted blanket trying to convince myself to get out of bed for the 2nd time this morning. Nothing "bad" happened, nothing horrible was triggered. Just sometime between when I got up the first time and started eating my frosted flakes and coming upstairs to get dressed my brain just decided that if I went to church this morning, it might kill me. Don't get me wrong- I LOVE my church. I love the people, the worship, the sermons, my pastor, everything. But the thought of getting up this morning and simply having to say hello to people was more than I could even bear to consider as doable. This is where anxiety often gets misinterpreted and misunderstood. I was not afraid of anything logical this morning, in reality I wasn't even really afraid. My body was just in fight or flight and telling me that I could not go forward with my plans because it was screaming "DANGER!" In reality? There is nothing dangerous about church. Eventually, I fought myself through tears and dragged my butt out the door fighting off a panic attack the entire time.
I got there, and the lights, sounds and people all around made my head start spinning. I started hyperventilating a bit, and wondered if I was going to have to leave. But then, my pastor came and gave me a hug. I could tell he knew I wasn't okay, probably based off my shaking and tears in my eyes. He told me he loved me and he is always praying for me. Then, our worship leader came over and gave me a hug as well. I tried to lie to her and tell her I was fine, but she didn't buy into my BS. I told her my anxiety was flaring up, and she reminded me that Jesus is bigger than my anxiety, and that she was praying that peace would surround me throughout the service. And with that? My anxiety was completely gone, no questions asked. As quickly as it came, it went.
That is what is frustrating with anxiety, you see. Sometimes, it's entirely predictable. I know that if someone taps me on the shoulder there is a good chance my anxiety will spike instantly. I know that large crowded places sent me into fight or flight extremely quickly. I know that some situations with kids and teens will make me panic. I know that if someone yells at me, I will probably have a panic attack. All of these things are predictable about 90% of the time.
But it's situations like today, when nothing in particular spiked my anxiety that make it hard to manage. It's not as easy to "go on meds" and just take care of the problem. My anxiety is well managed about 90% of the time. I don't need meds when I generally have the equivalent of one bad week a month.
This is what I want people to understand: If you don't have anxiety, you don't understand. Anxiety is not being worried about "something". It's not being afraid of something specific that you can avoid, it's not someone screaming in terror. Anxiety is not always pacing around the room, or crying. Anxiety is not always logical. Anxiety is rarely preventable. Anxiety is not something we choose. Anxiety is not always caused by trauma from the past, and its not always caused by chemical imbalances. Anxiety is not always being noticeable.
Sometimes, anxiety is silent. So silent that I lose my ability to speak because I feel like someone has their hands around my neck and I cannot breathe. Anxiety is a merry go round that is spinning out of control. Anxiety is a herd of african safari animals running at you, and you have no control to make them stop. Anxiety is feeling like you are suffocating and drowning when you're simply sitting in a classroom. Anxiety is being terrified to make a phone call because your mind goes blank as soon as you hear someone on the other end. Anxiety is not being able to go to events because you don't know people, and that in itself will overwhelm you. Anxiety is when simple everyday noises become overwhelming because you already have an amusement park of noise going on in in your head, and one more noise puts you over the edge. Anxiety is going off on someone when they ask you to do a simple task, because you've already been beating yourself up in your head for two days over the laundry thats on your floor that you can't make yourself do. Anxiety is the running of every negative thing anyone has ever said to you in your head over and over and over again. Anxiety is your brain trying to convince you to do ANYTHING to escape the obvious imminent danger you are in, even if that means running out of the room while you are speaking or doing something that might legitimately harm you. Anxiety is not being able to tell someone no, even if they are hurting you. Anxiety is not being able to get out of bed in the morning because life itself scares you. Anxiety is not being able to get out of bed because you are running late because you overslept, and it feels pointless to even try at this point. Anxiety is worrying every time that you are late to work that you are going to get fired. Anxiety takes every normal thought, and blows it so far out of proportion it can convince you that eating a sandwich is going to kill you. Anxiety is an overwhelming sensation that can take over every single aspect of your life if it gets bad enough.
This is what anxiety is to me. It's not simple, its not enjoyable. It's not something that I talk about because mental health is a current "fad". This is my life. This is what I go through every moment of every day. I don't write this for attention, I write this for awareness. You wouldn't get mad at your employee who has cancer and can't go to a social function, yet you yell at your "normal" employee when they tell you they can't go for personal reasons? Or even if they are brave enough to tell you to struggle with anxiety would you really let them not go? Of course not. You'd tell them to get their act together, to stop complaining, to get on meds or some sort of combination of these things. People with mental illnesses are just that- people with illnesses. So please, stop acting like your employee is incompetent if they have a panic attack. Don't act like if someone cries over answering the phone they are insane. Mental health issues affect an organ- a really important organ at that- the brain.
That's why I am writing this. I am sick and tired of being horribly embarrassed to admit to people that I struggle with anxiety. In a way, yes. I am sick. It's something that I might struggle with for the rest of my life. Yes, I pray and ask God to take it away, who wouldn't?! But until then, be gentle with me please. Don't judge me when I tell you I can't go to an event because my anxiety is flaring up and I don't want to go somewhere where I'll have a panic attack in public. If I tell you I don't want to call to order the pizza, please don't try and make me and tell me you're trying to help me "get over it" I have a therapist for that, thank you. People with mental illnesses are not freaks. They are not incompetent, they are not useless to the American public. They are simply people with struggles just like you.
I hope that by sharing a bit of my story this will challenge you to consider how you interact with people you know who struggle with anxiety. I hope this will encourage you to find ways to help them, and let them know they don't have to try and "cover up" their anxiety around you. I hope that this helps people to stop judging people who do have anxiety, and gives people a better perspective of the many faces that anxiety can appear as.
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