Having an anxiety disorder has been a really challenging part of my life. In the last few years I have realized how many people, men and women, deal with this sometimes debilitating diagnosis. But so many don't feel comfortable talking about it. We have often been looked down on as strange or a little nutty. An easy judgment from those who do not understand what it's like to live with anxiety. I felt it was important to write about it and encourage people to talk and share.
Here is my first installment, I hope you enjoy. As always...thank you for reading!
Call Me Crazy - Part I
For as long as I can remember I have had anxiety. Even as a child. I remember well the overwhelming feelings of fear and dread that would often encompass me. Most of these concerns would never have occurred to most children. I was so often fearful and overly consumed with what might happen. I remember waking up in a panicked state one night at my Grandmothers house when I was around 10 years old. I was terrified that our neighbors Chow and Doberman (who frequently escaped their yard and chased us) were going to attack and possibly kill my little sister or brother. At 40 years old I remember this night so well and the feeling of terror that engulfed me. There were so many other times; my Mom being late coming home from work, “She must have been in an awful car accident.”. My Dad taking too long to get home from being out on the road as a truck driver, “What if he drove his truck off a cliff somewhere in the Rocky Mountains?”.
It didn’t help when so many uncontrollable things kept happening around me. Our family poodle was attacked and killed by the aforementioned dogs. My beloved Papa died from heart failure at 62 years old. The day my Mother and I drove by a fatal car accident on the way home from school will forever be engrained in my memory. The poor man who had perished was still laying on the road under a white sheet with his foot sticking out; one of his boots had come off. To this day I cannot erase the image of his shoeless foot encased in a white sock. When I would express my distress or worry over things, the reaction to these “absurd” fears is still fresh. She’s just “A high strung child” they would say. Back in the 80’s they found so many ways to simplify what they didn’t know how to diagnose.
These stressful feelings and moments of paralyzed angst lasted until I was about 15. That’s when I started smoking pot. A lot. I had found a way to self-medicate even if I didn’t know thats what I was doing. All I knew was I felt really good and in a relaxed place that I had not known for so very long. Please note; I am not advocating for marijuana any more than I am advocating for it. I think it has positives and negatives. But for the purpose of my constant alarm and trepidation...this pesky irritation was resolved for the time being.
At 20 years old I chose to stop smoking weed. In fact for a few years I went completely clean. No drinking, no smoking, anything. That’s when I began having the panic attacks. At the time of course I had no idea what they were. I only knew that out of nowhere on random days I had to go. I had to get out. I had to run. I had to sit. I had to scream. I was terrified each time they would come and I had no idea what was happening. When I wasn’t having a panic attack I lived in a constant state of doom. Something bad was always just about to happen. I felt like I was going crazy. An added bonus were those super helpful folks who would have the stellar advice to just “Relax and calm down.” “Don’t worry about it.” I would think “Wow, all I have to do is relax? I can’t believe I never thought of that before!” (Insert eye roll) No one understood what I was going through so no one knew what to say.
About 2 years into this was when I was given a gift. The gift of knowledge! One afternoon while sitting in my mother in laws house I was talking about how I was feeling. My brother in law who was attending college at the time said “Hold Up”. He went to his bedroom and came out with the book from his psychology class. He flipped through some pages, found what he was looking for and handed the book to me. Pointing to a chapter that read “Generalized Anxiety Disorder” he said “Is this what you’re talking about?” As I read the words on the page I was stunned. I might as well had written them myself. This disorder explained everything I was experiencing. It was me to a T! I wanted to cry. I wasn’t loosing my mind! I wasn’t being irrational or as some people thought “Just dramatic”. I have always remembered that day with a vivid recollection. I also find a fondness in the fact that this haunting and often debilitating affliction was diagnosed by a 20 year old college student in his Mom’s living room.
So now I knew what I had. What was I supposed to do about it?
To Be Continued.....