Photo by Daniel Vega-Warholy @warholyphotography on Instagram.
I never write anymore.
I'm too busy trying to calm my thoughts.
Some of you may have noticed that some of my posts since the beginning of this year have been a bit negative. Not negative as in mean, but negative as in just not jovial like I used to be all the time.
And to be honest with you, I don't know how that happened. I don't know what caused it. I honestly do not have an exact, pin-pointed date that I can show you that caused this. All I really know for sure is that my mind has always been this way, but for some reason this year it amplified.
Anxiety is not fun. Obsessive-thoughts are not fun. Impulses are not fun. Going from being joyful to your mind telling you mean things is not fun. I've had a lot of people tell me they understand what I'm going through, but my mind tells me they don't.
I've always had anxiety, but it's never been this severe.
There were times this semester that I didn't go to class because my mind told me that I was not able to get out of bed. I felt like I needed to sleep instead. At times I was happy I decided to sleep, because getting more sleep helped my mind clear a bit. I ceased that urge really quick once my anxiety bled into my sleep, making facing the day more bearable than sleeping.
I wasn't focusing like I should've been. I'm still working on that. I couldn't have fun or be around others because I felt guilty for every decision I made. I felt like I was doing something wrong. I hated having to email professors to tell them that I wouldn't be in class because I was afraid of having an anxiety/panic attack.
I tried to just cope with it on my own. I found myself going online for comfort, posting things in hopes someone would help me. Then someone commented, in a very accusatory way, telling me that I was paranoid and that I needed serious help. (In hindsight, I understand this comment was out of care, it was just worded awfully and sounded more ferocious than it was meant.) I broke down. I cried coming home from my birthday dinner. I just wanted to sleep. All I wanted to do from late January to March was to sleep. Sleep felt like the only way my mind wouldn't destroy me.
I was in counseling all this past semester. I didn't tell everyone, maybe I should've because I also got messages urging me to get help. I did get help. I just didn't want to share that part of my life so publicly. (Hypocritical, I know. This whole blog is way too personal for the public.) I was going to counseling, but I never liked going. Something felt off. I ended up calling an emergency number one day because I literally felt like I was going to explode if I didn't talk to someone. I later found out that number was only for people who were in danger of hurting themselves or others- I was not aware of this. Maybe it was all in my mind, but I almost felt like my counselor slightly berated me for calling this number. It felt like I wasted someone's time and took time away from an actual emergency.
But this felt like an emergency.
Our minds are weird. Everyone has intrusive thoughts that are ridiculous. My problem is that I believe the thoughts. My mind tells me, "if you're thinking it, it must be true!" It's excruciating. It sounds like such a stupid issue. There are bigger problems and people with more important issues than "my mind is mean to me." I feel guilty asking for help. I feel so dumb. I feel so bad when I just need to talk to someone, yet I feel like an annoyance. I have a bad habit of repeating things because I feel like I'm not saying them well enough. I will repeat stories and sentences so they come out better, or so that I can maybe believe them.
I am not belittling the kind words I've received, the "just try not to worry about it," or the "think positive!" I appreciate those words, I really do. But for someone who has intrusive, negative, anxiety-ridden thoughts, hearing "just be positive" makes me feel like I'm doing something wrong. That this should be easy just to turn off and put on a smile. It's not. It's not that easy. It's not something I can just switch on and off. Yes, I have good days. I have days where the thoughts don't bother me as much- they're still there, just some days I am better at not paying attention to them. It all just depends on the day.
There's a lot of beautiful things in my life. I am so thankful for them. But my anxiety paints them all black. My mindset has always been like this. I can remember being in elementary school and having an obsessive intrusive thought, but I thought everyone had them so it was easier for me to get over it. (And being a child helps. You don't know much but what's presently in front of you, so you don't worry as much.) I have an obsessive personality. I always have, it's just manifested differently over the years. I miss the childhood worries that mainly revolved around wondering if I was talented enough to be on Disney Channel. (An actual worry of mine as a child. Don't judge.)
My body will feel calm as my mind gasps for breath. They feel disconnected. I won't feel nervous physically, but mentally I'm a wreck. Someone will tell me kind things and I initially accept it, then seconds later my mind tells me it's a lie and that I'm cold hearted and that I don't deserve what they said and that the fact that I questioned it means it can't be true... see how these thoughts work? And that's with nearly 90% of thoughts that cross my mind. This string of thought follows. It's a hard habit to break, especially since it's been happening since I was a young girl. (I have more stories about this, how I used to worry about small things as a four year old. It's deep rooted.)
I found myself acting impulsively. Meaning I would do little things to try to make myself feel better, even if it was for a second. Be it falling down a Google rabbit hole trying to diagnose myself or repeatedly asking people to make me feel better. It isn't a fun way to live and I am thankful to say I've drifted from that part of my life and have combated many of those impulses.
I've been told by counselors and friends that this is all in my mind. All the things I worry about are merely just things that my worried imagination conjured up. The reality is that they aren't actually happening. Hearing this does calm me down, it makes me feel relived because for a little bit I feel that these thoughts aren't real. But it's hard for it to go super deep into my psyche. The string of thoughts I mentioned earlier begin happening again. It's not that I forget the reality comment, I do remember it. I tell it to myself daily, multiple times a day. It just won't sink in. I start worrying it away, too. It's so infuriating.
I'm also so used to acting on every feeling (that's how all my artwork is made). I've been trying to learn on how to not do that. Not to blow up every time something upsets me. Not to take every feeling as factual evidence something is wrong. And when I say feeling, I don't mean intuition. I mean when I misinterpret something or when something doesn't go how I envisioned, and I react in getting upset or angry at someone. To the point that at times I feel like I must tell them how I feel immediately without calming down and reacting in a more appropriate way and thinking through the situation.
I am working daily to cope with this. And I'm happy to say that it has gotten better. I don't feel like just sleeping anymore. I'm able to get out of bed in the morning and function. I'm smiling more and I'm taking better care of myself. I'm trying to mediate and challenge all the intrusive thoughts. But it's a battle. It's a battle everyday. I feel like I have to constantly apologize to everyone for any and everything. I feel like I burned some bridges that I wish I could go back and build, but I'm not sure if I'm that strong yet. I'm working. I'm still going to a counselor and I'm doing things everyday to make it better.
(Also, this is a small thing, but I just wanted to say, I am not against taking medication for anxiety. I just want to find ways to cope without medication if I can. I live a somewhat holistic lifestyle (I'm trying to lol) and try not to take medicine often. But I am not against it and won't turn it away if I truly feel I need it.)
I am okay. I'm not "gonna" be okay, I am okay. I have anxiety. But I am okay. I've accepted that the anxiety won't disappear completely, but I believe I'll be able to deal with it better if I keep working everyday.
I just need a little love and support during this time. Y'all have been more than loving and supportive. I'm just sorry if I sometimes ask for reassurance or repeat things. I'm just trying to get better.
