It is the equivalent of having a 2-ton frog sit upon your chest; every time you inhale, the frog gains a few pounds. It feels like you're being sucked and squeezed into a very minuscule tube that doesn't allow for any oxygen. There is pressure pushing the top of your head downwards, and the bottoms of the soles of your feet upwards. Your face feels burning hot, your heart beat rises, you feel like death. You feel like a bunch of hot air, and if anyone touches you, you're going to burst into tears. You're too scared to go and talk to anyone because during this attack, you're afraid that someone will say something totally irrelevant in a joking manner, per say, and you're afraid that you will take it personally or blow it out of proportion ("Hey, what's up with you today?") and then -pop!- you'll explode into a fit of tears destined to fill up one of the Great Lakes in Michigan. And then the shame. The guilt. The worries start again here. ("Oh no, what if they think I'm a crybaby? What if they don't understand? What if they ...etc).
I've felt this type of burning sensation all too this much these past six months. I've imagined that happening to me many many times before (but it hasn't actually). Yet those thoughts are very real, very scary, and very daunting to me.
How do I explain anxiety? I don't. I can't explain why it happened so much all of a sudden, or why it's so prevalent now. I do believe that anxiety has always existed, of course. Human beings need anxiety to function - it alerts when you something is wrong, when something is off balance. It's the friend that always reminds you to do things or 'else' things will happen. But anxiety has been the busybody these past few months in my life, and it's gotten so much to the point where I haven't felt completely like myself.
Here is the exact process of my anxiety:
1) encounter the problem
2) think about it a little bit
3) over analyze
4) dread
5) pray for a new problem so I can forget the old one
6) find a new problem
REPEAT.
The core of the problem here is that it is an extremely vicious cycle, and it stops for no one and nothing. 80% of the time, the problem isn't even truly a problem, it is an observation with no real evidence to back to it up. (i.e. "He gave me a really weird look after and shrugged afterwards. Does that mean that he thinks that I'm too lavish? Does he think that I'm acting too good for him? Maybe he doesn't like me as much now. But there's no evidence to back that up! He's never said that before...but then why do I get such a bad feeling in my stomach...What if I worry about this for the rest of the day...") I over analyze small interactions so much that I can't focus. I vaguely remember my nutrition teacher saying to me in a very mellow voice after asking her a question on a paper once "I don't understand what you're saying" and stressing about that one line for two weeks straight. To this day, I really do believe that if I didn't have such major anxiety, I would have scored that 5 instead of a 4 on the AP literature exam last May.... the 5 that everyone in my graduating class was absolutely certain I would get. But I think I pushed really well in that needy time that I was still able to pass the exam during that period of hardship, so I am thankful.
An extremely bad habit that I developed after this happened was that I would often times get up and pace around (to get the thoughts straight in my head, because I couldn't ignore them), and I believe that I have spent minutes and hours at one time, walking around the dimensions of my laundry room, or the upstairs bathroom just pacing. Those places are so connected to thinking about anxiety and pacing now, that every time I'm in there (not to get my thoughts straight but to do other things), I am reminded of those very sad times and it brings back many low memories. Even when friends or company come over, I sometimes have to excuse myself to go stand in the bathroom and tell myself to not analyze things and to calm down. It's a second nature for me now, unfortunately, and I hate it. I hate myself for it.
I remember during my AP art studio class that there was a small stock room in the back where all of the art supplies were. The art teacher allowed us to go in there and get whatever we needed to finish our AP portfolios. I stayed in there longer than usual, and sometimes snuck in there sometimes during work time to calm down and pretend to be looking for art supplies when really, I was just trying to collect my thoughts and breathe. Sad, really. Kind of pathetic. But at the time, I think I really needed to do it.
The only time I can catch any sort of "break" is when I head off to bed.
When a situation gets too stressful, I oftentimes hope and wish that a new one will come into play so that I can focus on something else. Even if it's something totally irrelevant, I will take it and expand it so that the one that I was dealing with before is not as important anymore. And that only continues the cycle, I know. But it's as if my mind doesn't know what peace is. It probably feels like I have been so accustomed to stress and anxiety that it must be prevalent 24/7 for me to function. I don't remember the last time I didn't have anxiety and that is a horrible feeling to have. I wouldn't wish this type of anxiety on anyone, but I do wish that some of the people who just don't understand could walk a whole day in my shoes and have all the irrational nonsensical thoughts follow them for a whole day and see how they deal with it. I want them to experience it for themselves before trying to judge you on how you live your life...which brings me to this:
"Telling someone with anxiety to 'just stop worrying' or someone with depression to 'stop being sad' is the same as stabbing yourself and saying 'just stop bleeding'." Furthermore, I don't remember where I found that quote, but it was similar to it.
Another quote that describes anxiety quite well and the best description that I have ever read about anxiety was this:
"If you miss a step on the stairs and your stomach lurches - it feels like that, but lasts much, much longer."
The worst part is undeniably knowing that you're freaking out about nothing, and there's nothing to be freaked out about, but you lack the ability to shut the emotion down. All of my problems at this very minute, this very present will be nothing next week, next month, next year, ten years. etc. But it is very real at this very moment, and I am always so tired by it. Even now, I look back to three months and think, "I thought that? I was stressed out about that?" It was so faraway...but I can't blame myself for thinking about it like that then.
If you told me back in January that I was going to have these small, yet large obstacles blocking my way towards peace and happiness, I don't know how I would have handled it. I don't know what I would have done.
But six months later and here I am...I feel so hopeful about my progress and how far I have come. It's most definitely difficult...but I can't completely and flatout say that I resent my anxiety that much yet.
Do not get me wrong, I detest my anxiety. But I do feel like I have made many improvements. I don't pace as much as I used to, and I have started to try and shut down any irrational thoughts. What-ifs are a brutal killer. What-ifs are the questions that question almost everything in this world and make things confused and unbalanced. I don't have many panic or anxiety attacks as often, but when I do (once in a while), I feel like a take ten steps back when I just took that one step towards progress.
If I am thankful for any one thing that my anxiety has done for me these past six months...it would be the revaluation of friends. I didn't realize how horrible and how cruel a couple of them had been to me until I had met my anxiety. I thought too less in the past about them, so I didn't realize how heartless they were, but now that I have analyzed the situation well, I see them in a completely different light. I thank my anxiety for that, for letting me see that I need to let them go because of how awful and immature they were to me these past few years. Even though they have no idea I have let them go, I am hoping that distance will play a big part in it. As for the payoff...I'm not sure. I'm not sure if it evens it out.
If five months ago, you told me that I would still be fighting this battle with myself, I would probably have rather died than face it. To top it off, I've always been the type who has been a little impatient with progress, so it probably kills me a little bit inside that I'm not fully "better" yet.
But this time, I am ready. I know that it's not over yet, but I am getting better everyday. I know this because I am sitting here right now, about to burst into tears if someone pricks me, pouring my heart out to interwebs, yet feeling a lot better than I did six months ago at the end of January, totally in pieces over everything. I will just do my best to keep my head up over the currents.
This ends my Afternoon Tea with Anxiety.
How do I explain anxiety? I don't. I can't explain why it happened so much all of a sudden, or why it's so prevalent now. I do believe that anxiety has always existed, of course. Human beings need anxiety to function - it alerts when you something is wrong, when something is off balance. It's the friend that always reminds you to do things or 'else' things will happen. But anxiety has been the busybody these past few months in my life, and it's gotten so much to the point where I haven't felt completely like myself.
Here is the exact process of my anxiety:
1) encounter the problem
2) think about it a little bit
3) over analyze
4) dread
5) pray for a new problem so I can forget the old one
6) find a new problem
REPEAT.
The core of the problem here is that it is an extremely vicious cycle, and it stops for no one and nothing. 80% of the time, the problem isn't even truly a problem, it is an observation with no real evidence to back to it up. (i.e. "He gave me a really weird look after and shrugged afterwards. Does that mean that he thinks that I'm too lavish? Does he think that I'm acting too good for him? Maybe he doesn't like me as much now. But there's no evidence to back that up! He's never said that before...but then why do I get such a bad feeling in my stomach...What if I worry about this for the rest of the day...") I over analyze small interactions so much that I can't focus. I vaguely remember my nutrition teacher saying to me in a very mellow voice after asking her a question on a paper once "I don't understand what you're saying" and stressing about that one line for two weeks straight. To this day, I really do believe that if I didn't have such major anxiety, I would have scored that 5 instead of a 4 on the AP literature exam last May.... the 5 that everyone in my graduating class was absolutely certain I would get. But I think I pushed really well in that needy time that I was still able to pass the exam during that period of hardship, so I am thankful.
An extremely bad habit that I developed after this happened was that I would often times get up and pace around (to get the thoughts straight in my head, because I couldn't ignore them), and I believe that I have spent minutes and hours at one time, walking around the dimensions of my laundry room, or the upstairs bathroom just pacing. Those places are so connected to thinking about anxiety and pacing now, that every time I'm in there (not to get my thoughts straight but to do other things), I am reminded of those very sad times and it brings back many low memories. Even when friends or company come over, I sometimes have to excuse myself to go stand in the bathroom and tell myself to not analyze things and to calm down. It's a second nature for me now, unfortunately, and I hate it. I hate myself for it.
I remember during my AP art studio class that there was a small stock room in the back where all of the art supplies were. The art teacher allowed us to go in there and get whatever we needed to finish our AP portfolios. I stayed in there longer than usual, and sometimes snuck in there sometimes during work time to calm down and pretend to be looking for art supplies when really, I was just trying to collect my thoughts and breathe. Sad, really. Kind of pathetic. But at the time, I think I really needed to do it.
The only time I can catch any sort of "break" is when I head off to bed.
When a situation gets too stressful, I oftentimes hope and wish that a new one will come into play so that I can focus on something else. Even if it's something totally irrelevant, I will take it and expand it so that the one that I was dealing with before is not as important anymore. And that only continues the cycle, I know. But it's as if my mind doesn't know what peace is. It probably feels like I have been so accustomed to stress and anxiety that it must be prevalent 24/7 for me to function. I don't remember the last time I didn't have anxiety and that is a horrible feeling to have. I wouldn't wish this type of anxiety on anyone, but I do wish that some of the people who just don't understand could walk a whole day in my shoes and have all the irrational nonsensical thoughts follow them for a whole day and see how they deal with it. I want them to experience it for themselves before trying to judge you on how you live your life...which brings me to this:
"Telling someone with anxiety to 'just stop worrying' or someone with depression to 'stop being sad' is the same as stabbing yourself and saying 'just stop bleeding'." Furthermore, I don't remember where I found that quote, but it was similar to it.
Another quote that describes anxiety quite well and the best description that I have ever read about anxiety was this:
"If you miss a step on the stairs and your stomach lurches - it feels like that, but lasts much, much longer."
The worst part is undeniably knowing that you're freaking out about nothing, and there's nothing to be freaked out about, but you lack the ability to shut the emotion down. All of my problems at this very minute, this very present will be nothing next week, next month, next year, ten years. etc. But it is very real at this very moment, and I am always so tired by it. Even now, I look back to three months and think, "I thought that? I was stressed out about that?" It was so faraway...but I can't blame myself for thinking about it like that then.
If you told me back in January that I was going to have these small, yet large obstacles blocking my way towards peace and happiness, I don't know how I would have handled it. I don't know what I would have done.
But six months later and here I am...I feel so hopeful about my progress and how far I have come. It's most definitely difficult...but I can't completely and flatout say that I resent my anxiety that much yet.
Do not get me wrong, I detest my anxiety. But I do feel like I have made many improvements. I don't pace as much as I used to, and I have started to try and shut down any irrational thoughts. What-ifs are a brutal killer. What-ifs are the questions that question almost everything in this world and make things confused and unbalanced. I don't have many panic or anxiety attacks as often, but when I do (once in a while), I feel like a take ten steps back when I just took that one step towards progress.
If I am thankful for any one thing that my anxiety has done for me these past six months...it would be the revaluation of friends. I didn't realize how horrible and how cruel a couple of them had been to me until I had met my anxiety. I thought too less in the past about them, so I didn't realize how heartless they were, but now that I have analyzed the situation well, I see them in a completely different light. I thank my anxiety for that, for letting me see that I need to let them go because of how awful and immature they were to me these past few years. Even though they have no idea I have let them go, I am hoping that distance will play a big part in it. As for the payoff...I'm not sure. I'm not sure if it evens it out.
If five months ago, you told me that I would still be fighting this battle with myself, I would probably have rather died than face it. To top it off, I've always been the type who has been a little impatient with progress, so it probably kills me a little bit inside that I'm not fully "better" yet.
But this time, I am ready. I know that it's not over yet, but I am getting better everyday. I know this because I am sitting here right now, about to burst into tears if someone pricks me, pouring my heart out to interwebs, yet feeling a lot better than I did six months ago at the end of January, totally in pieces over everything. I will just do my best to keep my head up over the currents.
This ends my Afternoon Tea with Anxiety.
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