Welcome to part 2 of my Mental Health trilogy. I have been diagnosed with five types of anxiety: generalized, social, panic attacks, PTSD, and OCD. (I actually just learned that OCD is a form of anxiety. Never knew that.)
So, here’s some explanation along with symptoms and signs.
Generalized
I was diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder a few years ago. I feel like it has subsided, so I do not consider myself to have this disorder anymore. But when I did, I was anxious about EVERYTHING. All. The. Time. I had trouble sleeping. My thoughts moved 100 miles a minute, 24/7. Peace was something I only dreamed about. Well, no, I guess I didn’t. I had nightmares. Sometimes I didn’t sleep much at all because I knew there was no relief in unconsciousness. Because my anxiety stemmed from depression, I was always worried. Worried what the weather would be like. Worried about being on the road. Worried about germs worried about my pets worried about superglue worried about dropping things worried about accidentally taking the wrong medicine worried about twisting my ankle worried about EVERYTHING. Things that have never caused a problem could send me into a panic attack at any time.
The worst thing that it caused was being worried about my family. I had a severe fear that my family was going to abandon me or kick me out. And for some reason, it caused me to push them away. I guess it just felt like, if I ignored them, it wouldn’t be as bad when they left me.
My parents have never ever left me. I had no reason to be afraid of these things. But for some reason, I was. I was very ugly. They wanted to help me but I wouldn’t let them. I shut them out. I stayed in my room, usually drawing or reading. I was alone all the time. I think I was afraid of hurting them. I was afraid that if I let them in, and they saw the cacophony that was inside me, they would leave. They wouldn’t want me. Because I felt like a broken toy. I didn’t want them to see me like that- I was supposed to be perfect. I was a good girl. A daddy’s girl. I didn’t want them to see me broken.
For a long time I was so uptight, I couldn’t breathe. I thought, That’s it. One more mistake, and everyone will leave.
I was suspicious of everyone and everything. It broke me. I couldn’t look at people the same anymore. I shuddered when people touched me. That’s actually when my coitophobia began. I couldn’t stand romantic type thoughts. I had panic attacks when guys talked to me. Freaked out at the mention of love. I wanted guy friends, but didn’t want them too friendly. I eventually just shut out all people my age. I was a mess. But it didn’t help. Generalized anxiety was my every day companion. I didn’t eat much, didn’t weigh much, didn’t talk much, and thought way too much. I couldn’t be awake without having racing thoughts and shivering at the sight of people. It was awful. Even my own company made me anxious. I didn’t want to hear myself think. Fortunately, over a lot of time and help, (from family members as well as professionals) I have overcome my generalized anxiety.
Social
I’ve already covered most of my social anxiety in the “generalized” section. It started out as coitophobia, and moved into being nervous about everyone. (I’m 100% straight, so at first it was just guys that bothered me.) Maybe it was caused by discovering the word “lesbian” and its meaning, but I couldn’t stand being close to anyone. I didn’t want to risk giving the wrong signals to friends. I became terrified of people.
This fear has definately stayed with me, but not at the same suffocating level. I still get really worried when I’m alone with people; even my best friends throw me into panic attacks sometimes. It’s obviously not their fault, it’s just my overactive brain. I’ve even had nightmares about what might happen. It sucks to have an uncontrollable brain. I want to be able to have sleepovers without being anxious. Celebratory coffee. Walks. Events. Meetings. Freaking conversations. Everything is always ruined first by “do they even like me?” and then by “do they like me too much?” As far as I know, all of my friends are straight. So WHY is this a problem for me? I don’t know if anyone has ever has a crush on me past the age of 13. Before that there were kindergarten romances, but nothing real. So, why do I worry? I’m a weirdo. Why would anyone have a crush on me? I shouldn’t even have to think about it. But I do. So, I still get anxious at any social meetup or gathering. Yay.
Big crowds also do the trick. Sometimes just standing in a room with lots of people makes me cry. I will just stand there, tears rolling down my face. It happened at a homeschooling convention once, and my dad asked what was wrong. All I could manage to say was “I want to go home.”
My previous teacher used a metaphor that I find very helpful in explaining overwhelmed feelings. She said, “Imagine someone handed you ten spoons. Those spoons represent your energy. Everything you do either takes spoons or gives them. If you have to do school, that might take away three spoons. Then maybe you get home and you’re told to wash the dishes. Maybe that takes two spoons. But then you get to do some art, and that gives you an extra spoon. But your day isn’t finished, and you keep having to give spoons to get things done. If the spoons represent your energy, what happens when you run out? You have no more energy! You have to be done for a while, and rest up. After a while, you’ll get more spoons. … Most people aren’t like you. They have unlimited spoons. They can go and go and go and go until the day is over and it’s time to go to bed. But sometimes you have to take breaks before you can start up again. And that’s okay.” What I didn’t realize is that she was describing being an introvert. But my case was much more dramatic, because I exhausted myself being anxious. At the end of the day, I was falling over. Sometimes I still push myself too hard. For example: tomorrow I have three things to do. God usually gives me about fifteen spoons a day. My first meeting is with a therapist whom I have not met but am supposed to work with. That takes ten spoons. Then I have a friend coming over right after. Three spoons. Then I have youth group, which drains any and all energy I have left. By the time I get home, I’m going to have to shut myself up in my room and collapse. Big days make me very anxious, and tomorrow is definately a big day.
Panic Attacks
Oh, boy. Okay. I’ve been having panic attacks for years. However, I didn’t always know what it was. Sometimes they are quick and non-dramatic. Pounding heart, sinking feeling, nausea, sometimes trouble breathing. Sometimes crying, sometimes not. But then there’s the big boys. Galloping heart. Sense of doom. Violent urge to throw up. I have to tell myself to breathe, and even then my breaths are shallow and few. Lots of crying. Shaking. Repulsed by physical touch. Gasping for air. Curled up into a tight ball. Often attempting to write something with vibrating hands. Wide eyes. I feel like I’m having a seizure.
I actually haven’t had a violent panic attack in several months, which really worries me. There is often a calm before a storm. I had a mild one at youth group last Tuesday night, and all I had to do was slip away to the bathroom and let it run its course. Panic attacks for me are often brought on by something- for which I have two stories. The most recent was the aforementioned Tuesday night slip. My friend was going through some things and she was about to move. It was rough on both of us because she’s one of my best friends. What I did not know is that she had also just had a panic attack moments before me. I’ve always been an empath; I can see things in peoples eyes. I feel when they are hurting. It isn’t a superpower or anything, it’s just something that God created me with. I’m happy when they are, I weep when they do. I feel what others feel. It sucks. So, my mild panic attack was actually my friend. We weren’t sitting together but I could feel something was wrong. I was so worried about her that it threw me into a panic attack. She told me after that everything was finally starting to sink in about her moving.
My second example is a story from a while ago- it was my worse one ever. (The story will also be published in an article I’m calling “Moving Away”, but that one hasn’t been posted yet. I’m still editing it. There will be more details in that article.) I was on my way to visit my friend in Canada. We’ve been good friends since preschool, and I wanted to surprise her. At the time, she was very into Disney’s “Beauty and the Beast” (starring Emma Watson). I spent months creating and putting together a (in my opinion) freaking awesome gift. I had handmade everything except the dome itself and the string lights, which I purchased on Amazon. When I got to customs, they, as expected, needed to open the box.
The glitter set off their sensors.
I’m serious! GLITTER IS EVIL. I opened the box and explained how the gift worked. Many of the officers were watching in awe, and two even asked if I would make them to sell. Unfortunately, the woman who inspected my project was not as kind as the others. She took it apart in ways it wasn’t supposed to be, going much more in-depth than was necessary. If she would have only let me walk her through the process, she would have realized that there was nowhere for me to hide anything.
Now, before you judge me, I AM aware that it’s her job to be suspicious. The role that people like her play is vital to air safety and protecting everyone on board. But there was no need to rip apart my creation.
I had to sit on a bench out of the way while my mother had a “pat-down” (since she was the adult and chaperone). The tears were rolling down my face like marathon runners for a $2,000 prize. I was shaking so hard that stuff was falling out of my lap. The officer continued her work, ignoring me. I couldn’t breathe. If there was a nurse present, they probably would have sent me to the hospital. It was awful. I almost threw up, I probably cried out about 90% of my body’s water supply, and I was basically suffocating. (That’s my worse side effect. I can’t breathe in panic attacks. It’s a real issue. I always get really lightheaded afterwards and sometimes parts of my body go numb, probably from having NO OXYGEN.)
I was deeply disturbed, and I probably cried on the next flight as well. I got her gift back, but it was broken and mangled. I was, quite frankly, ashamed to give it to her in the end. It was very ugly.
PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder)
I have extreme PTSD from “The birds and the bees” talk. I was very sheltered growing up, which is something that most kids hate. But I am so, so glad that I was. I’m proud that my parents wanted me to stay innocent as long as possible. To be honest, I never believed in storks carrying babies or anything. I didn’t even think about it. I guess I just thought that women decided to get pregnant, and then they were.
My mom and the mother of my best friend (at the time) decided to book a room at a hotel in a nearby city. That city had an American Girl doll store, and so my friend and I thought that we were having a shopping spree weekend.
That was… not… what… happened.
I had no idea. Like, I kid you not, no clue. My friend was in private school for a while, so she already knew some. I felt so retarded because I had never questioned anything. I think I was 13. Normally, that’s an appropriate time to discover adultish things. But not for me. It ruined me. For the rest of the weekend, I barely put any thought into anything. I would look at people passing by with new eyes. I cried. A lot. In the hotel room, in the bathroom, with my mom, in the doll store, in the middle of the mall, at dinner, and anywhere we went. I’m pretty sure I cried into my cereal two days in a row. (I can’t make any promises though; I’ve blocked out that whole event as best as I can.) I would just burst out crying at any given moment. It was awful. I’ve had coitophobia from the beginning. It wasn’t my mom’s fault; if I was in any way normal, it wouldn’t have been a big deal. Unluckily for her though, I was a totally pure mind. I had no idea about any of it. My world was utterly shaken. No, more than that. It was turned upside down.
Needless to say, we got our shopping spree.
It still comes back to me sometimes- imagining people in ways I don’t want to. Sometimes it’s like my brain is under someone else’s control. I try to block images from my mind but they keep coming back. That talk led me into the darkest days yet of my life. (I have PTSD from more than that, but it’s definately the worst and most prevalent issue.) Please keep in mind that these are just my experiences. I’m no scientist. But PTSD is real. And it sucks.
OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder)
Whew, last one. Hope I haven’t (but probably have) lost you. OCD is very difficult to live with in some cases. Luckily mine is mild. I have certain things that I have to do, like making sure the drawer is all the way closed or those papers are in a nice, clean stack. The most common one for me is I have to touch the little screw-head under the light switch. If I don’t, it will bother the CRAP out of me all day. I also can’t deal with screens going off if the user has been inactive for a while. Either it needs to stay on, or someone needs to turn it off. It can’t go into that “I’m-about-to-shut-off-tap-something-if-you’re-still-there” phase. I know it’s stupid but it bugs me to the ends of the earth. Furthermore, I spell words with my fingers sometimes and rearrange letters in my mind. I have a method, almost like a class system. For example, if I read a sign that says, “Good burgers”. My mind automatically rewrites the words into “ooeusrrdbgG”. Certain letters always come before others. It’s just how my brain works. My vowels are always in the order of “i, o, e, a, u, y”. If capitalized, it’s “I, O, U, Y, A, E”. My OCD is very odd.
There are many different symptoms and side effects that can point to this disorder. It is often brought on by the desire for control. Most times it is only considered serious if it interferes with daily life. I had a friend once who had to flicker the lights on and off a certain count of times before she could go to bed each night. Another woman had to check all her door locks about three times a day. I am lucky that mine isn’t severe like that. Mine is relaxed, but still complicated. It throws some people into panic attacks when their OCD is screaming about something they can’t fix. It’s a hard thing to live with.
OKAY I’m finally done. Wow. This one is much longer than I expected! Thank you, if you stuck around until the end, and I hope this was a help to you. If you struggle with anxiety I highly recommend getting help. You don’t need to be “fixed”, and it isn’t that you “aren’t enough”. But if you don’t catch it quick enough, you run the high risk of spiraling like me. And let me tell you, it’s not pretty. I found a counselor that I really connect with and she has helped me so much. My anxiety has definately subsided, and it is much easier to tolerate and live with now. Don’t let it control you.
Don’t live your life with fear at the steering wheel. You’ll end up in a crash.
Thanks all! Hope you’re having a great day (and if you aren’t, make up your mind now to stay positive and endure.) Romans 15:13 🙂
~Shortie
