Feeling a little Anxious
Or maybe a lot anxious. I won't know for sure until I have been awake a little longer.
This morning I woke up to that feeling I hate. Butterflies in my tummy, legs feeling like lead. It is the kind of morning I hate, but I know I have to face head on. I have a date with anxiety, and, if today is anything like my past dates, I'll swipe left, thank you very much.
I have never actually been officially diagnosed with anxiety, but I really don't need to be. I know for certain that I have it. Most people would probably be shocked to know just how anxious I can be sometimes. Hiding it has become sort of my super power. I just would prefer that it not be a regular topic of conversation. I am me; I am not my anxiety.
I haven't always struggled with anxiety. At least not to this degree. When I was in school, I experienced the normal anxiety that comes from an unexpected pop quiz, giving a 2 minute speech in public speaking, or walking into Dr. Larry Foster's class while getting my M.B.A. Nervousness that would subside as soon as the dreaded event had marked its close.
These days my anxiety shows up unexpectedly - like a snowstorm in late May or a positive pregnancy test after a vasectomy. But it's always never welcome - maybe a lot more like that positive pregnancy test after a vasectomy, lol. It may evaporate by the end of the evening, or it may last days. I can only hang on and pray until it decides to fade away as abruptly as it decided to visit.
I have always joked that we all can find ourselves in the DSM (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders) if we only look hard enough. Try it, I dare you. I promise you, you are in there somewhere. For me, many of those diagnoses hit far too close to home. You see, I have always known that I had a predisposition to develop a mental disorder....my mother has been diagnosed with chronic depression, along with several other disorders. My maternal heritage includes, among others, diagnoses of schizophrenia and bipolar. My paternal line has a history of drug addiction and substance abuse. And those are just the things of which I am aware. I guess you could say that I was planted in very fertile, but unstable soil.
Some of you might be wondering, of what, exactly, I am anxious. Some people are afraid to leave their home. Some people fear aliens. Some people are anxious around dogs or cats or snakes or vermin. These things don't really bother me. Not greatly anyway. So what exactly is it that makes me wake up short of breath and feeling a little dizzy? What makes my insides shake and my mouth go dry? The answer is not an easy one to pen. The unimpressive, but oh so difficult short answer to a very simple question is simply this: my family.
The origins of my anxiety rearing its ugly head can probably be traced back to birth of our first child. After the visitors had retreated, and we were finally able to bring her home, we were met with an unexpected rude awakening. Our lovely little bundle of joy had no intention of greeting her new digs by blissfully sleeping away a few hours allowing her parents to get some rest. No, instead, she screamed and cried and kicked and screamed and no amount of singing, cuddling, feeding, or changing could get her to settle down. This new reality, coupled with a daughter who proved to be a midnight party animal, led me into what I now know as post-partum depression. Back then I thought I was just tired. I didn't know any better; I had nothing with which to compare this new life. Today, I am so much more educated and so much more aware. Although I never had PPD to the same extent with any of my other 6 children, I feel strongly that it was laying the floor plan for my eventual foray into the exciting and unpredictable world of anxiety.
A few posts back, I referenced having a child/ren with whom I have struggled (reference the whole therapy, meds, etc). Truthfully, struggle would be a gross understatement. The struggle was definitely real, ya'll. No meme necessary. It still is, in large part, these days. Again, I prefer not sharing intimate details that I feel would lend a greater level of authenticity and understanding to those tormented days, but I cannot, in good conscience as a mother, allow my children to be judged in the world of the online courtroom. Especially when I cannot guarantee the impartiality of the jurors. Just know that if my life were to be called after a gameshow, Survivor would certainly fit the bill.
As we added children to our family, and as things continued in their chaotic spiral into uncertainty, (s/he/they'll grow out of it, we said. this is only a phase we thought. Autism? ADHD?), I spent a couple of years in what I can only call an abyss. A miserable deep black hole that threatened to suck the entire life out of me as, why not? I was already convinced that my life was over. Days seemed to stretch out like eternity, leaving me to wonder if my husband would ever get home or if, perhaps, this would be the day he kept on driving. You see, our situation took a huge toll on him as well, and then to add insult to injury, each day brought no guarantee that his wife would be able to show up in her role as wife and mother.
Like Pavlov's dogs, each day had conditioned me to react and be prepared for the completely unpreparable. Would today be a good day? Would today be worse than yesterday? Brian took to staying home in the morning until the kids were on the bus so that I wouldn't have to face the overwhelming task of getting them ready and off to school, at least not by myself. Computers and TV saved me when I just couldn't bear to parent those still at home. The sound of the school bus coming down the street became the theme song to my nightmares. My bedroom became my safe place, and on days when I simply did not think I could go on, my oft repeated mantra (borrowed from the character of Jenny in Forrest Gump) was simply "Dear God, make me a bird. So I can fly far far away." But alas, I never grew wings, at least of the feathery type, and today I sit here at my computer hoping to use my experiences to educate and normalize mental diseases.
I'm not quite sure how or when I was pulled from the abyss. As stated in earlier posts, I lost my faith in God, raged against a life that did not go according to plan, and was a completely broken individual. I am still very cracked, to a large degree. I do not wish this experience on any human being. Walking around feeling like you want to jump out of your skin, yet putting on a brave face is so hard to do. I truly felt like my family was living as double agents: the happy, smiling fresh-faced family at church versus the volcanic thunderstorm that continually raged under our roof.
Due to the nature of our trials, I truly believe that each of our children's lives have been irreparably altered to a large degree. Strained emotions have increased quickness to anger. Hyper focusing on trying to solve certain problems has robbed each of them with much needed course correction and guidance. Opportunities to create strong family ties has been eroded by exhaustion and frustration. Yet, here we are. And here they are, and by and large they are at least weathering the storms into which they have sailed. But, please, cut them some slack.....it has to be extremely hard growing up in a home where, through no fault of your own, your mother simply can't cope with everything that is being thrown at her on a given day.
I am at least able to say that things have improved for the better over the years, but unfortunately, my anxiety has not decided to tip its hat and part ways. Life is always full of unexpected twists and turns, and I, for one, am a control freak. Because my life has largely been one of chaos and sudden changes, I like to feel in control. As one might expect, managing 7 kids, 4 cars, 1 home, 13 chickens, 2 cats, a church calling, a PTO board membership, (to name a few) and the expectations that come from those things doesn't allow the kind of control I desire. Hence, anxiety.
Today I read a quote posted by my cousin that said "Not all storms come to disrupt your life; some come to clear your path." It made me wonder which side of this quote my anxiety storm would be considered. It had definitely disrupted so many facets of my life, but it has certainly given me greater empathy for those who struggle every day, in silence, or shame, to overcome true "sorrows that the eye can't see." Not everyone will struggle with a mental illness. But everyone will know someone who does.
In light of the recent suicides posted in the news, it is heartbreaking to know (as someone who has considered the act myself) that the brain can turn against you and convince you that your life is worthless and that there are not better times to be had. No amount of wealth or privilege or status exempts a person from feeling pain, yes, real, tangible pain, that stems from the unbearable loneliness, grief, and confusion that this life can throw at them from time to time.
I am not my anxiety. I know that I am strong because I am still here and kicking. I also know that there are times when I am very, very weak. At those times, my mind always goes to the scripture (Ether 12:27) that says:
"And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them."
Cleary I have been shown my weaknesses over and over and a thousand times over again. If weak things can become strong, I should be the woman of steel by now. I guess it's the humility part that's lacking. Oh, yeah, and maybe that faith thing. Both things I am striving to improve on daily.
Anxiety, depression, etc. are real. They can rob you of true relationships because they rob you of true human emotion. I started this blog as part therapy, a place where I could go to unload some of the things that run circles in my mind and terrify me to send out into the universe. But I also hope that this blog can serve as a platform for dialogue, discussion and education. I truly hope that, whatever the topic may be, that for someone, it can be a beacon for hope and encouragement and a place for unconditional acceptance. I'll be anxiously awaiting your thoughts!
This morning I woke up to that feeling I hate. Butterflies in my tummy, legs feeling like lead. It is the kind of morning I hate, but I know I have to face head on. I have a date with anxiety, and, if today is anything like my past dates, I'll swipe left, thank you very much.
I have never actually been officially diagnosed with anxiety, but I really don't need to be. I know for certain that I have it. Most people would probably be shocked to know just how anxious I can be sometimes. Hiding it has become sort of my super power. I just would prefer that it not be a regular topic of conversation. I am me; I am not my anxiety.
I haven't always struggled with anxiety. At least not to this degree. When I was in school, I experienced the normal anxiety that comes from an unexpected pop quiz, giving a 2 minute speech in public speaking, or walking into Dr. Larry Foster's class while getting my M.B.A. Nervousness that would subside as soon as the dreaded event had marked its close.
These days my anxiety shows up unexpectedly - like a snowstorm in late May or a positive pregnancy test after a vasectomy. But it's always never welcome - maybe a lot more like that positive pregnancy test after a vasectomy, lol. It may evaporate by the end of the evening, or it may last days. I can only hang on and pray until it decides to fade away as abruptly as it decided to visit.
I have always joked that we all can find ourselves in the DSM (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders) if we only look hard enough. Try it, I dare you. I promise you, you are in there somewhere. For me, many of those diagnoses hit far too close to home. You see, I have always known that I had a predisposition to develop a mental disorder....my mother has been diagnosed with chronic depression, along with several other disorders. My maternal heritage includes, among others, diagnoses of schizophrenia and bipolar. My paternal line has a history of drug addiction and substance abuse. And those are just the things of which I am aware. I guess you could say that I was planted in very fertile, but unstable soil.
Some of you might be wondering, of what, exactly, I am anxious. Some people are afraid to leave their home. Some people fear aliens. Some people are anxious around dogs or cats or snakes or vermin. These things don't really bother me. Not greatly anyway. So what exactly is it that makes me wake up short of breath and feeling a little dizzy? What makes my insides shake and my mouth go dry? The answer is not an easy one to pen. The unimpressive, but oh so difficult short answer to a very simple question is simply this: my family.
The origins of my anxiety rearing its ugly head can probably be traced back to birth of our first child. After the visitors had retreated, and we were finally able to bring her home, we were met with an unexpected rude awakening. Our lovely little bundle of joy had no intention of greeting her new digs by blissfully sleeping away a few hours allowing her parents to get some rest. No, instead, she screamed and cried and kicked and screamed and no amount of singing, cuddling, feeding, or changing could get her to settle down. This new reality, coupled with a daughter who proved to be a midnight party animal, led me into what I now know as post-partum depression. Back then I thought I was just tired. I didn't know any better; I had nothing with which to compare this new life. Today, I am so much more educated and so much more aware. Although I never had PPD to the same extent with any of my other 6 children, I feel strongly that it was laying the floor plan for my eventual foray into the exciting and unpredictable world of anxiety.
A few posts back, I referenced having a child/ren with whom I have struggled (reference the whole therapy, meds, etc). Truthfully, struggle would be a gross understatement. The struggle was definitely real, ya'll. No meme necessary. It still is, in large part, these days. Again, I prefer not sharing intimate details that I feel would lend a greater level of authenticity and understanding to those tormented days, but I cannot, in good conscience as a mother, allow my children to be judged in the world of the online courtroom. Especially when I cannot guarantee the impartiality of the jurors. Just know that if my life were to be called after a gameshow, Survivor would certainly fit the bill.
As we added children to our family, and as things continued in their chaotic spiral into uncertainty, (s/he/they'll grow out of it, we said. this is only a phase we thought. Autism? ADHD?), I spent a couple of years in what I can only call an abyss. A miserable deep black hole that threatened to suck the entire life out of me as, why not? I was already convinced that my life was over. Days seemed to stretch out like eternity, leaving me to wonder if my husband would ever get home or if, perhaps, this would be the day he kept on driving. You see, our situation took a huge toll on him as well, and then to add insult to injury, each day brought no guarantee that his wife would be able to show up in her role as wife and mother.
Like Pavlov's dogs, each day had conditioned me to react and be prepared for the completely unpreparable. Would today be a good day? Would today be worse than yesterday? Brian took to staying home in the morning until the kids were on the bus so that I wouldn't have to face the overwhelming task of getting them ready and off to school, at least not by myself. Computers and TV saved me when I just couldn't bear to parent those still at home. The sound of the school bus coming down the street became the theme song to my nightmares. My bedroom became my safe place, and on days when I simply did not think I could go on, my oft repeated mantra (borrowed from the character of Jenny in Forrest Gump) was simply "Dear God, make me a bird. So I can fly far far away." But alas, I never grew wings, at least of the feathery type, and today I sit here at my computer hoping to use my experiences to educate and normalize mental diseases.
I'm not quite sure how or when I was pulled from the abyss. As stated in earlier posts, I lost my faith in God, raged against a life that did not go according to plan, and was a completely broken individual. I am still very cracked, to a large degree. I do not wish this experience on any human being. Walking around feeling like you want to jump out of your skin, yet putting on a brave face is so hard to do. I truly felt like my family was living as double agents: the happy, smiling fresh-faced family at church versus the volcanic thunderstorm that continually raged under our roof.
Due to the nature of our trials, I truly believe that each of our children's lives have been irreparably altered to a large degree. Strained emotions have increased quickness to anger. Hyper focusing on trying to solve certain problems has robbed each of them with much needed course correction and guidance. Opportunities to create strong family ties has been eroded by exhaustion and frustration. Yet, here we are. And here they are, and by and large they are at least weathering the storms into which they have sailed. But, please, cut them some slack.....it has to be extremely hard growing up in a home where, through no fault of your own, your mother simply can't cope with everything that is being thrown at her on a given day.
I am at least able to say that things have improved for the better over the years, but unfortunately, my anxiety has not decided to tip its hat and part ways. Life is always full of unexpected twists and turns, and I, for one, am a control freak. Because my life has largely been one of chaos and sudden changes, I like to feel in control. As one might expect, managing 7 kids, 4 cars, 1 home, 13 chickens, 2 cats, a church calling, a PTO board membership, (to name a few) and the expectations that come from those things doesn't allow the kind of control I desire. Hence, anxiety.
Today I read a quote posted by my cousin that said "Not all storms come to disrupt your life; some come to clear your path." It made me wonder which side of this quote my anxiety storm would be considered. It had definitely disrupted so many facets of my life, but it has certainly given me greater empathy for those who struggle every day, in silence, or shame, to overcome true "sorrows that the eye can't see." Not everyone will struggle with a mental illness. But everyone will know someone who does.
In light of the recent suicides posted in the news, it is heartbreaking to know (as someone who has considered the act myself) that the brain can turn against you and convince you that your life is worthless and that there are not better times to be had. No amount of wealth or privilege or status exempts a person from feeling pain, yes, real, tangible pain, that stems from the unbearable loneliness, grief, and confusion that this life can throw at them from time to time.
I am not my anxiety. I know that I am strong because I am still here and kicking. I also know that there are times when I am very, very weak. At those times, my mind always goes to the scripture (Ether 12:27) that says:
"And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them."
Cleary I have been shown my weaknesses over and over and a thousand times over again. If weak things can become strong, I should be the woman of steel by now. I guess it's the humility part that's lacking. Oh, yeah, and maybe that faith thing. Both things I am striving to improve on daily.
Anxiety, depression, etc. are real. They can rob you of true relationships because they rob you of true human emotion. I started this blog as part therapy, a place where I could go to unload some of the things that run circles in my mind and terrify me to send out into the universe. But I also hope that this blog can serve as a platform for dialogue, discussion and education. I truly hope that, whatever the topic may be, that for someone, it can be a beacon for hope and encouragement and a place for unconditional acceptance. I'll be anxiously awaiting your thoughts!
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