The pro of having had anxiety for my entire life, and knowing it for over half my life is that I'm more experienced with managing it. The con though is the weight of understanding the futility of my situation. That no matter where I go or what I do poor mental health can, at any time, cut me down where I stand. And this has been proven over years and years of experience.
And even though I've managed to get back up countless times before, and even though I know that I can, the thought of having to do it is exhausting.
Sooo Frustrating! Sometimes it's hard
to tell when you are actually sick.
This is not aided by the physical manifestations of this illness. When I am well, these are not such a big deal. But when I am ill, a body that cannot process food properly, inconsistent heart-rate, difficulty breathing and unexpected, sudden rises in adrenaline leave me muscle sore and exhausted. And my ever racing brain feeds my racing pulse meaning whilst sleep is sorely needed it often sits far across an endless sea of circular thoughts, somewhere beyond my anxious brains reach.
And while I understand the physiology of my anxiety and its mechanics I still cannot prevent it from affecting me nor stop it on sight. I understand my triggers, but because life is what it is - unpredictable - they could strike at any time. And I know that once triggered my body goes into fight-or-flight mode over situations that are, from a rational perspective, completely safe. And while I also know this is due to a logical process of how the brain manages childhood trauma, while my heart races seemingly of its own accord I both know this and feel frustrated that I can't just function like a regular person. And the frustration at my situation feeds the anxiety.
I feel anxious because my body has been tricked into thinking I'm in a life or death situation. Then I feel anxious because of the irrational nature of my body*. I feel guilty because my anxiety prevents me from being able to easily do the simple things that help control my anxiety** and guilty that I feel anxious in the first place. Anxiety feeds off itself. And even when you know this is the case you cannot stop it from chasing it's own tail and still flinch at the pain of it's bite.
I know exactly what triggered my current bout of poor mental health. It is nobody's fault. I know rationally that what I am dealing with is something that would be emotionally difficult for even a 'normie' to handle. I know my inability to manage is not my fault, that my brain has forged abnormal neurological connections as a coping mechanism. Most of the time I know what needs to be done to get on track. But it takes time, and while I get back to that place of almost normal, just managing each day is hard.
And this is what makes managing these episodes so hard. Those spaces in between.
I have great support networks. I have friends and family that have similar mental health issues that I can talk with honestly. I have a partner and a plan in place for when this happens. I am extremely fortunate in this department. But none of this matters once I'm really sick. Anxiety shuts down my ability to communicate. Of late, I have been struggling even to engage on social media, (and this is usually a safe space for extroverted introverts like myself who genuinely like other humans). And the guilt about my inability to communicate makes me feel guilty about my participation in relationships with others. And that guilt feeds my anxiety.
In some ways it is hard being a functional anxious person. When you spend most of your time being fairly capable in life, it is only when you drop the ball that anyone notices. Consequently, it's a difficult conversation to have. I am not, nor have ever been embarrassed by my mental health status. I am afraid that people will not believe me if I tell them. This too makes things difficult - I work harder to keep up the facade of being 'normal' for the sake of the areas that can't fall by the wayside; the kids basic needs and work. And in order to do that I sacrifice other things, like being social, or exercising because I've used up all my spoons. I feel extremely lucky to be functional. And I feel guilty for voicing the associated problems with being functional. And that guilt feeds my anxiety.
This time I caught things earlier than the last time. I went to the Drs much sooner than usual, fruitless as that was. I self-adjusted my existing medication. I filled out the forms and am on the wait list for therapy. I have attempted to limit my social interaction to a manageable level. And it is starting to help. I am still struggling with my energy levels**, still struggling with social interaction, still utilising unhealthy crutches to help me to stagger through. But this is shifting. Slowly.
Even when you know the cycle, it's still hard to
get out of the cycle...
It's this point in time when the cycle can start up again. Where it's easy to get too confident and overdo things. Where it's easy to feel guilty about not doing things. Where this guilt starts feeding back into your anxiety. It's a tricky negotiation and this doesn't change with time. It's a wearying process while you're in the thick of it; going to Drs appointments, organising therapy, preparing healthy meals, talking to friends. Once sideswiped by the exhaustion that accompanies anxiety, managing the anxiety begins to feel insurmountable. Just picking up the phone requires preparation and pep talks and if connection is thwarted by an answer phone or receptionist, it's even harder to do next time. You want to get help, you know how to get help, but actually doing it is so hard.
But you do it. You find things that tie you to the world that force you to keep getting up - family, friends, goals, causes. What is frustrating is that when my health starts to unravel these ties are the very things that I struggle with. How can I prioritise drawing when I barely have the energy to go to work? How can I help others when I can barely function at a basic level? It is hugely difficult to work out when to set these aside, for my health, and when to do them, for my health. Having just finished reading a brilliant biography on Robin Williams I can see all too easily while so many cannot continue this struggle any more. It is not for want of love or connection or use. It is the guilt over not feeling that, for whatever reason, you do not deserve that connection. It is the frustration and exhaustion over your own situation.
I get it, but I keep on doing it.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
I had my first of what will likely be many conversations with the kids about my mental illness earlier this week. I am grateful that this conversation wasn't prompted by my own health, but their interest in the book What Would She Do. Whilst initially we just read the summary and quotes about the women included, the kids are now so interested they wanted me to read their 'big' stories. When we read Virginia Woolf's Etta asked 'Why did she kill herself Mum?'
So I explained that she suffered from anxiety and depression, and that I did too. I said that this illness can sometimes make a person so sad they do not know how to live in this world any more. That for a pacifist like Virginia, World War II must have hurt so much. That having this illness does not mean I will kill myself. That many other people live with this and don't kill themselves. That I have a more supportive community, and different circumstances to Virginia. Etta said 'That's good, because I would miss you if you were dead.'
It is difficult for me to know for sure if this was the right thing to say. No-one wants their children to consider their parents health or mortality. But this is the truth. And what I have learned as a parent to our two amazing children is not to underestimate their ability to grasp big ideas like war or prejudice. The other day Etta said to me 'Why do they have wars? If they disagree they should just talk about it until they agree on something. Or they should just have a running race and whoever wins the race is who gets to decide.' Introducing big topics when they are young in simple, non-biased ways allows them to start forming their own ideas about their values. What I see as a result of these big topic conversations is opportunity to talk about empathy, equality and equity.
And honesty. I hope that in being honest with our kids about my health and my feelings, it helps them know they can be honest with me. Whilst my anxiety feeds me guilt about my ability to be a good parent, I can counter this with the knowledge that it also gives me the opportunity to talk about mental wellness with my children. To role model asking for help when I need it, to name emotions when I feel them and to help them do the same. I'd certainly rather that than to model the need to hide those differences that are not well perceived by society. I don't want our kids to ever feel the need to be anything other than who they are. Having mental health issues helps me teach our children how to have empathy for others, love for themselves and to feel safe talking about their own feelings.
I feel from my struggle comes understanding and power. And I can gift this to our children.
* Getting Etta to school on time is not a life or death situation. In my case the anxiety comes from the possibility of an increase in social interaction required (which happens if she's late), but a conversation won't kill me, my body just thinks it will...
** Sleeping, spending time with friends and family, eating healthily, minimal exercise - normal health stuff
*** Most folk who use anti-anxiety meds or other meds to help with mental health will understand this exhaustion is both a side effect of being anxious (overworked adrenals) and a very common side effect of altering dosage of medications. It's a very difficult balance between being functional/non-functional with or without medication.
And even though I've managed to get back up countless times before, and even though I know that I can, the thought of having to do it is exhausting.
Sooo Frustrating! Sometimes it's hard
to tell when you are actually sick.
And while I understand the physiology of my anxiety and its mechanics I still cannot prevent it from affecting me nor stop it on sight. I understand my triggers, but because life is what it is - unpredictable - they could strike at any time. And I know that once triggered my body goes into fight-or-flight mode over situations that are, from a rational perspective, completely safe. And while I also know this is due to a logical process of how the brain manages childhood trauma, while my heart races seemingly of its own accord I both know this and feel frustrated that I can't just function like a regular person. And the frustration at my situation feeds the anxiety.
I feel anxious because my body has been tricked into thinking I'm in a life or death situation. Then I feel anxious because of the irrational nature of my body*. I feel guilty because my anxiety prevents me from being able to easily do the simple things that help control my anxiety** and guilty that I feel anxious in the first place. Anxiety feeds off itself. And even when you know this is the case you cannot stop it from chasing it's own tail and still flinch at the pain of it's bite.
Obviously my reasons are different,
but it's the same old crazy shit
but it's the same old crazy shit
I know exactly what triggered my current bout of poor mental health. It is nobody's fault. I know rationally that what I am dealing with is something that would be emotionally difficult for even a 'normie' to handle. I know my inability to manage is not my fault, that my brain has forged abnormal neurological connections as a coping mechanism. Most of the time I know what needs to be done to get on track. But it takes time, and while I get back to that place of almost normal, just managing each day is hard.
And this is what makes managing these episodes so hard. Those spaces in between.
I have great support networks. I have friends and family that have similar mental health issues that I can talk with honestly. I have a partner and a plan in place for when this happens. I am extremely fortunate in this department. But none of this matters once I'm really sick. Anxiety shuts down my ability to communicate. Of late, I have been struggling even to engage on social media, (and this is usually a safe space for extroverted introverts like myself who genuinely like other humans). And the guilt about my inability to communicate makes me feel guilty about my participation in relationships with others. And that guilt feeds my anxiety.
In some ways it is hard being a functional anxious person. When you spend most of your time being fairly capable in life, it is only when you drop the ball that anyone notices. Consequently, it's a difficult conversation to have. I am not, nor have ever been embarrassed by my mental health status. I am afraid that people will not believe me if I tell them. This too makes things difficult - I work harder to keep up the facade of being 'normal' for the sake of the areas that can't fall by the wayside; the kids basic needs and work. And in order to do that I sacrifice other things, like being social, or exercising because I've used up all my spoons. I feel extremely lucky to be functional. And I feel guilty for voicing the associated problems with being functional. And that guilt feeds my anxiety.
This time I caught things earlier than the last time. I went to the Drs much sooner than usual, fruitless as that was. I self-adjusted my existing medication. I filled out the forms and am on the wait list for therapy. I have attempted to limit my social interaction to a manageable level. And it is starting to help. I am still struggling with my energy levels**, still struggling with social interaction, still utilising unhealthy crutches to help me to stagger through. But this is shifting. Slowly.
Even when you know the cycle, it's still hard to
get out of the cycle...
But you do it. You find things that tie you to the world that force you to keep getting up - family, friends, goals, causes. What is frustrating is that when my health starts to unravel these ties are the very things that I struggle with. How can I prioritise drawing when I barely have the energy to go to work? How can I help others when I can barely function at a basic level? It is hugely difficult to work out when to set these aside, for my health, and when to do them, for my health. Having just finished reading a brilliant biography on Robin Williams I can see all too easily while so many cannot continue this struggle any more. It is not for want of love or connection or use. It is the guilt over not feeling that, for whatever reason, you do not deserve that connection. It is the frustration and exhaustion over your own situation.
I get it, but I keep on doing it.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
I love the Scholastic Book Club
So I explained that she suffered from anxiety and depression, and that I did too. I said that this illness can sometimes make a person so sad they do not know how to live in this world any more. That for a pacifist like Virginia, World War II must have hurt so much. That having this illness does not mean I will kill myself. That many other people live with this and don't kill themselves. That I have a more supportive community, and different circumstances to Virginia. Etta said 'That's good, because I would miss you if you were dead.'
It is difficult for me to know for sure if this was the right thing to say. No-one wants their children to consider their parents health or mortality. But this is the truth. And what I have learned as a parent to our two amazing children is not to underestimate their ability to grasp big ideas like war or prejudice. The other day Etta said to me 'Why do they have wars? If they disagree they should just talk about it until they agree on something. Or they should just have a running race and whoever wins the race is who gets to decide.' Introducing big topics when they are young in simple, non-biased ways allows them to start forming their own ideas about their values. What I see as a result of these big topic conversations is opportunity to talk about empathy, equality and equity.
And honesty. I hope that in being honest with our kids about my health and my feelings, it helps them know they can be honest with me. Whilst my anxiety feeds me guilt about my ability to be a good parent, I can counter this with the knowledge that it also gives me the opportunity to talk about mental wellness with my children. To role model asking for help when I need it, to name emotions when I feel them and to help them do the same. I'd certainly rather that than to model the need to hide those differences that are not well perceived by society. I don't want our kids to ever feel the need to be anything other than who they are. Having mental health issues helps me teach our children how to have empathy for others, love for themselves and to feel safe talking about their own feelings.
I feel from my struggle comes understanding and power. And I can gift this to our children.
* Getting Etta to school on time is not a life or death situation. In my case the anxiety comes from the possibility of an increase in social interaction required (which happens if she's late), but a conversation won't kill me, my body just thinks it will...
** Sleeping, spending time with friends and family, eating healthily, minimal exercise - normal health stuff
*** Most folk who use anti-anxiety meds or other meds to help with mental health will understand this exhaustion is both a side effect of being anxious (overworked adrenals) and a very common side effect of altering dosage of medications. It's a very difficult balance between being functional/non-functional with or without medication.
