Managing Anxiety

I was recently attempting to explain to a friend, who is helping someone she loves manage his anxiety, how anxiety looks and can manifest in those of us struggling to keep our heads above water as the waves crash around us. Like so many things, I feel like the words anxiety and panic are thrown out there for just about everything these days, and perhaps that is what is happening for them, but for someone with a true panic disorder it can feel like your experience is being downplayed. While not wanting to sit as the judge of who is truly living with panic attacks, and who is having a nervous day, I'll only speak about my situation.

Though I later realized I had panic attacks for many years, the first time I was able to put a name to it I was in my early 20's. Driving down the road, singing along to the radio, gorgeous sunny day and suddenly I couldn't breathe. I was in complete terror, near tears and struggling to think straight. I pulled over and attempted to figure out what was happening to me. I felt scared. I felt like something awful was happening to me yet nothing was actually going on. I then reasoned that I was forgetting something, and it felt as if this something was crucial to my survival. I went through a checklist in my head: bills were paid, I had a job, I was healthy, and there was no reason to be feeling that the world was crashing down on me. 

Having panic attacks for nearly 30 years I've gotten good at hiding what's happening to me. I sometimes share with friends that I'm struggling but no one really knows just how bad it is. I don't talk about the times I've hid in a closet, literally, because being out in the open felt unsafe and this made me feel protected. I don't explain that when I'm punchy, and sometimes rude, it's just coming out wrong because inside I feel like I'm standing in front of the gallows about to be hung. To suppress it and look normal can be physically painful as you smile, nod and hide that your chest is about to explode.

I don't think I've fully documented all I've done to manage the anxiety and panic attacks. All the meds (most giving me terrible side effects), CBD oil, supplements, strict diets, exercise, yoga, meditation, breath work, writing, therapy, more therapy, and even more therapy. Some days it helps a little and on others I have to hold on with everything in me as my fingers slip off the rail. I fear one day nothing will work.

To add to this fantastic roller coaster I'm on, as I've gotten older what was basic premenstrual symptoms has now turned into PMDD. PMDD is Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder....I like to call it PMS on crack. It sets my already ablaze nervous system into a freaked out inferno. I have a tracking app for my periods so when I see I'm 7-8 days out I will remind myself that it's about to start, I'm going to feel crazy and I need to hold on. My jaw will lock from the tension, I will cry over anything, visions of my past haunt me, and the fear will loom over everything.

Those of us who experience this are well aware our thoughts aren't logical and that our minds are racing with nightmares that will likely never happen. The feeling permeates our bodies and all reasoning and facts won't stop this train that has long ago jumped the tracks. Please don't shame us with what you think we should do, think or feel. 

I was cut off by my doctor for Xanax due to my family history of Alzheimer's (long term use has the possibility of early dementia issues). So now each month it feels like I'm freefalling without a parachute. I'm one of the lucky ones though as I somehow keep it hidden enough, I still get my shit done, and I'm surviving. Yet I know this could flip one day. I know between hormonal imbalances and my trauma history, that the potential for a breakdown is there. But I keep trying, I keep working on it, and sometimes I even give myself a little break from it all. 

 

What do you hope for?

I wrote a post on having hope for a year at the end of 2018. Bless my sweet heart. That lasted until around April 2019, but actually that's a decent run for me. My therapist asked me in my last session, "What do you hope for?". I replied, with much less emotion than you'd expect, "Nothing. I don't allow hope. Hope hurts me." She prodded deeper asking why I refuse to hope and could there be anything I could hold onto. I said, "I believe in my tenacity. I have full faith in my resiliency. But I can't hope. It's too painful to hope."

What do you hope for?

Hope for me is a planned letdown. Though I have to question how many of the things I won't allow hope for are society's expectations of what I should want? Would money make me happy? Would having a partner make me less afraid? Would fame take away the pain of being unwanted by a parent? Again back to what society says I should want, but I have felt like what are supposed to be life milestones were disappointing or non-existent for me. No special Sweet 16 - I spent that in a basement hearing some chick give a guy head while my friend and I hid from his mother who was drunk upstairs. No prom - I went to a different high school every year, I didn't know anyone, no boyfriend, no money for a dress anyway. My wedding sucked. No money, it was a rag tag picnic type situation. I bought the first dress off the rack because I didn't want to even look at dresses I couldn't have. I didn't feel like a princess. My groom didn't compliment how I looked. My father was late. I hated it. (No hope) C-section - Yes, I had a healthy baby and am thankful for modern medicine or both of us would have died. I had hoped for this perfect birth, because my mother had 3 nearly perfect vaginal births, and in my head I felt like the God I believed in was going to give me my moment. That beautiful moment where you do your last push, they say "It's a ___!" and they hand you your baby. I was 10 days overdue, induced, cord around the neck, emergency C-section. Again, because I feel like I need to not look whiny, I know it was the best choice for my son's birth. I just wanted that moment so much.

Though claiming no hope there is obviously some as I want these life moments. I want an awesome memory. I want to feel that I wasn't left out of life. And this desire, this need, this obsession with feeling like I've missed out and just want something, is where I get into trouble. I stayed in my last relationship much longer than I should have because I was longing for one more moment. He was toxic, a narcissist and a nightmare but he actually did give me a few memories that were special. Though I now know I shouldn't trust anything he said. He made my 50th birthday extra special, we had a wonderful new year's eve, and he came to my work gala where I may have for a split second felt pretty in my cute red dress, strappy heels and salon hair, and to top it all I won the grand prize. I put myself at risk by clinging to a potential moment and ignoring all the horrors around me. 

My therapist asked me when I stopped hoping and that was around 15. My parents divorcing was so destructive, beyond your typical divorce issues, that it felt like I had nothing to cling to and no one to help me. I stopped hoping to hold down the pain of everything continually going wrong. I'm sure I've referenced this quote before as it spoke to me deeply, from the movie "Divine Secrets of the Ya Ya Sisterhood" (wonderful movie but the title is horrendous) there is a scene where a lady's fiancé is with her mother and he asks her, "We're happy and she's always acting like the other shoe is going to drop." The mother replies, "That's because it always did." It's why I nearly strangle anyone that tries to tell me, "Things can only get better!". Really? Well you've lived a charmed fucking life if you truly believe that. Things can get worse, much worse, and then when you have nothing left the bottom can drop out. My therapist asked me to rescue my 15 year old self. I said, "She's mad. She doesn't want to be rescued."

I was pondering God, being an atheist, after telling my therapist I didn't have hope for anything (not suicidal....I just don't allow hope as that's too painful). And this thought sprung up "What if you gave God one more chance for a year?" I was immediately pissed at this. It sounds like something a church would come up to lure people back or some cutesy Christian book where after a year Jesus blesses the holy fuck out of them. So of course the sad little abandoned girl in me thinks maybe, just maybe, there could be a God and this dick finally likes me? Then I'm reminded of the deafening silence from him after decades of pleading and begging.

I don't know how to hope.

Looking for movement in the trees

I broke up with him days before Easter as the Coronavirus was starting to intensify. On Easter night the weather was awful; cold, freezing rain and gloomy. As I'm no longer a Christian I didn't care about Jesus rising from the dead, and not having a young child there was no need for baskets or treats, so I sat alone on my couch drinking wine and crying. In my peripheral vision I saw movement in the trees outside my condo. Even though it was dark, and the trees blocking a lot, I recognized his shape and movements. He'd spied on me before during a breakup so I wasn't shocked. I also knew he wasn't stalking me to actually see me; he wanted to see if I was with anyone. I looked straight ahead wondering how long he'd stand in the rain staring at me. Since I was alone he left pretty quickly. 

In the following weeks I started to see him frequently. Around 9pm when it was getting dark my eyes would catch the movement and there he would be. I wanted to run out there and scream and tell him to leave but I was frozen. I knew from experience to document when he did this. I didn't actually fear he'd hurt me but all the old traumas came up and I couldn't move. 

When my mother's second husband would go on a rampage we had to run for our lives. Sometimes we'd hide in an upper floor of the apartment building and peek out a window to the parking lot to monitor his activity. We had to stay still while watching because movement might have alerted him to our presence. Becoming immobile was a means of survival. In therapy I'd heard the term "fight or flight" forever but it never landed well with me. In recent years I noticed they added "freeze" and that was one I understood well. I get mad at myself frequently for times I should do something, say something but I freeze. 

I ultimately needed to get a harassment order on him after he went on a tirade of texts and emails that were demeaning and abusive. I still look for movement in the trees even though I know he's long gone. If I'm triggered from old memories I find I will repeatedly look and check. I'll sometimes tell myself out loud "stop looking!" yet my eyes will minutes later take a glance over just in case. 

My therapist told me "the trauma neurology is frozen". Working so hard to release it and feel safe and free. I don't know that I've really ever felt that at all. Looking forward to the day I no longer look for movement in the trees.

I swore I wouldn't be her

My mother is on her 4th husband, and though I like him the most out of all of them, of which my father was one, it doesn't subtract what went on to get to this point. When my mother left my father it was volatile and horrific. My father was a pastor at the time and my mother had an affair with a prisoner from the "prison ministry" she had through the church. He resigned and made sure to let everyone know exactly what she'd done and that he wasn't in any way at fault. I was 15.

My mother's choices in men were questionable at best. I'm being kind to the one who didn't abuse me but the others were monsters. Thankfully, at least to present memory, none physically abused me but the threat was always present. I was told about her second husband, "If an average man hit you it would hurt but if he hits you your head will go through a wall." He was a beast of a man and terrifying. When he talked it sounded like screaming, which he claimed was from hearing loss, but it felt like a way to terrorize. She ran from him repeatedly only to go back and I was livid and couldn't understand. Even after escaping his clutches the bad decisions continued. I would rage as to why she did this and swore on everything that it wouldn't happen to me.

It happened to me.

Life is so interesting in that you may think you've felt, processed and healed from something yet it sneaks back in again. I was recently reminded of my stupidity and choices in men. I'm embarrassed, ashamed and internally screaming "Why the fuck did you keep going back?!?". That's the same thing I screamed at her. 

Now I'm not one to ignore my own actions and put on a cute smile. I process, I freak, I cry, I hate myself a lot and I look hard at what got me to where I am now. Through my therapy and research I realized I fell in love with a narcissist. Everything that happened to me was straight out of their playbook. Actually pretty ordinary which bugs me all the more. The typical timeline with a narcissist is the love bombing phase (sometimes called trauma bonding), and once you are quickly hooked as they figure out where you are needy and play it well, you are devalued. Some toss the person aside but others, as with my case, lure you back repeatedly even when you claim you are done and it's over. 

I fell so ridiculously hard. I would wake up every day to a "good morning beautiful" text, he claimed to like everything I liked, he said he loved me in 2 weeks. I didn't believe him initially but he kept doing all the things I wanted and felt I lacked in my relationships, so even with my disbelief I was all in. It was the passion I always wanted but felt would never happen. One night during a snowstorm he was driving over and I said to be careful and was it safe enough to come. He said, "I would charge hell to be with you tonight." I fell to the floor sobbing at this. Everything was mostly great yet red flags were flying up all over the place. I pushed them down, didn't tell anyone...least of all myself.

When the devaluation phase came I was slammed and didn't know what to do. My mind kept trying to get back to when it was wonderful. No matter how awful he was to me I'd come back again and again. I suppose some stupid part of me thought that if I got him psychological help then we'd get back to happiness and I'd even be the hero. He didn't want help and those glory days were long over. Yet through fight after fight, break up after break up, I'd go back to him. 

Just like her.

Now understanding why someone would go back to hell repeatedly I now feel very sad for what my mother went through. While trying to forgive myself I'm also so ashamed. I've even had friends say, "You should just be completely alone because look at the mistakes that you make." That's what the church people said about my mother. Fuck you...I just wanted acceptance and love like every single one of us do.

He didn't break me though. I may still feel the pain but I've risen above it. I don't know that I will ever get this amazing passionate love that desire, but my head is held high and I'm holding my own.

Proving your Pain

One of my favorite quotes which I post frequently as well as remind myself of on a regular basis: "Problem stated at its most succinct - Is life too short to be taking shit or is life too short to mind it?" ~ Violet Weingarten, "Intimations of Mortality". 

Everything feels like a trigger these days. Whether it's the news, work, therapy, friends, strangers...life feels like a minefield to carefully walk so as not to explode. It's stressful. Stress triggers a pain response in my body. Most days I smile through it but lately it's excruciating. I don't talk about it because no one knows what to say. Or at worst I feel like I have to prove how bad it is. And you can't actually prove pain.

I was in an accident this past July which totaled my car and left me with multiple injuries. I've been seeing a chiropractor since then. Well my number came up as expected, and though insurance has been great they asked how much longer I'd be needing treatment. I also knew this meant I'd likely have to see another doctor for a second opinion to prove I'm still in pain. My chiropractor said at this point they will undoubtedly deny and I replied, "because I can't prove my pain" and he said, "yes". 

Whether unknowingly out of curiosity, or worse, I have found people either nod their head and say "sorry", only to never bring it up again, or I'm interrogated on my symptoms and if my pain is really as excruciating as I say it is. I would say the same about emotional pain; you can't prove it. Any attempts about talking about what devastated your soul (outside of therapy) usually involves a mini inquisiton as to how long ago this emotional wound happened, what you've done and why in fuck aren't you better yet!? You can't prove your pain.

Though I do sometimes say something when it's agonizing beyond words, I mostly keep all pain to myself. The explaining, the proving, can feel worse than the pain itself. I want to be an open person who shares their life but this feels like a no win situation for me. Who wants to be the whiny chick who is always hurting? Sometimes I would like to say, "I really hurt today", without fearing the replies, the questions, the proving. 

I realize that if someone were to read this and then meet me, they wouldn't know what to say. Show empathy? Might look like you don't really believe. Ignore? Well that's rude. And today I don't have answers. Today my lower back feels like a hot sword is going into it and my left hip is enduring a torturous ache. Today I will also do yoga, pop a THC gummy and get to bed early as these are my only sources of relief. I haven't quit yet. So if you see me you don't need to say anything. Maybe just give me a little extra grace if I'm punchy and aggressive.

Becoming someone new

This is a difficult post in ways that may not seem apparent immediately. 

I have a work event coming up where this is the 4th year of me being the "Awards Girl", or as I'm affectionately known "Vanna". I stand on stage, smile sweetly and help handing out awards. And each year as this event approaches I'm stressed about it all. Will they ask me again? Should I ask? It leaves me scared and nervous.

So why not just ask? Actually, I think most people are relieved I'm doing it and not them. I was floored last year when multiple people came up to me and asked, "What does your dress look like?". Because I was so sure they'd want someone prettier, younger, thinner...etc. I'm amazed each year that another isn't chosen.

Why is this anything that matters? I've always associated any chick doing awards show stuff as pretty. I was never the pretty girl. My father didn't say I was a princess, never went to a prom and have mostly based my self worth on my humor, creativity and charm. My ex-husband once told me "your looks have gotten better with age". Sort of a compliment. Yet I nodded, smiled and found a way to sneak into a closet to sob. 

He's not wrong though. I look way better in my 50's than I ever have. I struggle, to the point of tears, when I'm complimented. I put so much effort in. (If we're reincarnated then I was totally a drag queen in another life.) Yet with all I do, of course wanting to be seen and told I look good, I cringe when someone says it. My ex-boyfriend used to accuse me of cheating because "all attractive people do that". And right when I almost believed him on the attractive part, we broke up and he made sure to tell me he wasn't attracted to me and went on to list all my flaws. There is so much fear. 

I truly fear I'll say "thank you" and be told they are joking. I fear that with all I've done it still isn't good enough. I fear saying I'm ok with anything about myself because I feel someone will tell me I'm wrong.

If you follow my Facebook you'll see I frequently post about being able to change who you are at any moment. When I teach yoga or meditation I talk about every breath being a new beginning. I love the idea, process and outcome of transformation. I reinvented myself in 2017. I'm not who I was. But oh that physical part...where there is critique and judgment and pain.

I'm striving with everything in me this year to look at things differently. I want to change my reactions and movements in life. I want to not put so much value on looks; my own or anyone's. I want empowerment, strength and contentment with all I've done and who I am. 

I could throw up right now.

It's funny though as people see me as confident. I can fake it so well. Although what typically happens is my need for attention overrides self hatred and I'm the life of the party. Just don't catch me afterward as I won't look like the self-assured person you previously saw.

Day 4 of the new year. It may take blood, sweat and tears to get through all the trauma and pain but I will become someone new. Someone you can't touch with your words. Someone who can no longer be controlled by your opinions.

So confident that I will achieve this that for the first time I'm posting my face.