Contrary to a vaguely popular (and really fucking irritating) belief, anxiety is not stress or worry – although stressing and worrying are part of anxiety. And it is most certainly not a choice. It’s not a lifestyle. It’s something you have – like chicken pox. Although thankfully chicken pox is a once (perhaps twice) in a lifetime affair. Anxiety on the other hand, can be a daily curse. Forever. And just like chicken pox, it needs to be managed.
Wanna know what my anxiety looks like? I had an unpleasant moment at work today, then later realised I’d spent the entire day on edge as a result of that one moment. For the whole day I was slightly teary, heart pounding, wanting to punish or numb myself, and counting the minutes until I could get out of there. I felt frozen to the spot and terrified of opening my mouth – just hoping the earth would swallow me whole. This is a scenario I am all too familiar with.
Me? I was born with a chubby foot in my mouth. And it seems I’m a slow learner. The reason I journal and blog, and became increasingly shy, quiet and retiring over the decades, is I really suck at the spoken word. It takes me ages to formulate what to say. I’m not quick off the mark with rapid repartee, then can’t process conversations and respond appropriately in a timely and intelligent fashion.
Am I normal or different? Am I sick or healthy? I have no fricking idea… I feel normal. I’ve always been like […]
I spent years telling myself it’s overwhelmingly difficult – nigh on impossible – to overwrite the dialogue of my childhood. That whatever […]
I have spent so much of my life feeling like a failure. Musician: failed Housewife: failed Finances: failed Resilience: failed Beauty: failed Weight: […]
… a thumping heart … a tight chest … short, quick breaths … a knot in my stomach … a swollen throat … heavy […]
I grew up in a pretty normal, conservative, middle-class household. My parents weren’t super strict. Or super lenient. They were just sort of – […]
Oh man. I am Struggling today. Struggling with a capital S and so incredibly tempted to give up. Give up on ever finding any type of recovery. Give up on therapy and just accept binging, purging and restricting as my normal. I am my own worst enemy. I’ve learned all the keys and steps and lifestyle changes. The insanity remains. I know all the buzzwords and metaphors:
We’re born to be nurtured.
Unlike most of the animal kingdom, little humans begin life utterly dependent on their caregivers. In a perfect world, we’re raised by loving and caring parents supported by their whole community – it takes a village to raise a child. Perfection is a rare commodity.
I don’t know who I am…
I know the core values I embrace. I know the person I’d like to be. But I don’t know who I really am.
Does that sound absurd? It does to me…
I can’t know for sure how anxiety manifests for other people – and to be honest, it’s only in recent months I acknowledged I have my own manifestations – but apparently, I have anxiety. With a capital A. As I’m currently feeling extremely anxious, now is a good time to put thoughts and observations down on “paper” …
And if as a society, we nurtured those in the earlier stages of illness, perhaps those “high functioning” addicts and depressives, those people with hidden and invisible mental illness, would feel okay about acknowledging their issues much earlier on. Because the earlier the problem is tackled, the better the outcome.
