Making Friends With Anxiety

"I like you,"
'What? Really?'
"Yeah!"
(Wedding)
'You sure you like me?'
"I do."
(With baby)
'So you won't change your mind?'
"Nah."
(Elderly couple)
'You don't think I'm weird?'
"Nope."
(Ghosts)
'So you definitely like me.'
"YES."

                                                                                        - Sarah Anderson (Sarah's Scribbles Comics)

I have come to learn that anxiety is weird when it comes to making friends or forming relationships of any kind.

Note: This blog post is not intended as a guilt trip for anyone in my life, so please don't take it that way.

1. It makes it hard to trust anyone. At all. Ever. Which means that making connections isn't an easy feat.
2. Once a relationship has been forged, it makes it difficult to believe anyone's sincerity.
3. It makes you automatically feel this weird little bond with other people with anxiety because you believe that they, at least partially, have an understanding of how hard it can be to connect with people.

To my first point, I find that it's so hard to open up to people for a few reasons. How will they react if I have a panic attack? How will they react if they find out that I have anxiety? Will they treat me differently once they know? Will they think of me as being less than them? Will they treat me as though I am less capable, like I'm fragile, like I'm a ticking time bomb? The social stigmas surrounding anxiety and other mental health conditions are still super present and lots of people stereotype or judge or attempt to limit others (sometimes without even realizing it - remember people, language is a powerful tool that can easily and unintentionally be misused. Intentions aside, damage can still be done, and it can be permanent).

My second point is that I have a very hard time believing that anyone would actually want to spend time with me. My anxiety often makes me think that I'm an awful/ boring/ clingy/ desperate/ obnoxious/ rude/ needy person that everyone just pities and dreads spending time with. And I mean everyone. I feel this way about my partner of 4 and a half years. My best friend of 8 years. All of my close friends. Sometimes even my parents. And even my cat. I kid you not, I genuinely fear that my cat finds me obnoxious and clingy.

"At least your pets love you. Not."

I struggle to reach out to anyone, because I fear that they'll find me so obnoxious and desperate if I keep trying to make contact. For this reason, I often spend time just at home, scared to send a text message, wondering why no one is messaging me. I often feel like everyone in my life is just tolerating me. Maybe they only spend time with me because they really like spending time with my partner. Maybe they just don't know how to tell me that they don't want to spend time with me. Maybe that's why they never call or text or invite me anywhere. Because I'm annoying and whiny and I suck the fun out of everything. No matter how much time I spend with someone, I still fear that they don't actually like me. I pick apart my conversations with my friends and loved ones and try to figure out what I said wrong and try to come up with a million different reasons that I give them to walk away. All of this adds up to one thing: I am very hard on the people I love. I have this weird mix of needing so much from people at certain times and then wanting/asking for nothing the next day. I know that this is not the best way to forge relationships. I'm aware that it's draining on everyone around me. I think about it all the time. I am trying so hard to work on it.

My third point is kind of a bright side with this whole thing. A silver lining. Lots of my very close friends also experience anxiety, to varying degrees. We have this sort of understanding of the way we are and the way that we need to do things sometimes. Maybe it's just me that sees it, but I've noticed it a bit - I'm drawn to others that understand through experience. There's comfort in knowing that there is little to no judgement between you.

Another kind of upside to this whole thing is that I think my anxiety makes me a pretty good friend to have sometimes. I will stay up for hours listening to my friends when they need me. I will do anything for the people that I love. Once I make a strong relationship, I'm not apt to jeopardize it (unless I don't realize that what I'm doing is harmful - that happens too sometimes). I'm a pretty loyal person.

"I've spent most of my life and most
of my friendships holding my breath
and hoping that when people get
close enough they won't leave,
and fearing that it's a matter of time
before they figure me out and go."
                                                                                             - Shauna Niequist

The Careful Cultivation of Coping Mechanisms

"I only do things two ways.
This way: "eh who needs to plan it's probably fine"
And this way: "I will schedule everything to the last possible second and if
ANYTHING does not go according to plan I will cry"

- Beth Evans

I see coping mechanisms as being a double-edged sword. For me, they are both extremely positive and quite negative, which is a weird way to think of them, but oh well. 

On the positive side, my coping mechanisms can help me to function better on a regular daily basis. Always having background noise (radio, tv, etc.) helps me stay out of my head - which keeps my anxiety at bay - and focus on the task in front of me. Staying active helps me sleep and gives me more energy, which helps me stay calm and in control. Eating health(ier - I'm all about balance and indulging sometimes too) helps with the energy levels and keeps me from focuses on my body-image related anxiety. These coping strategies are positive overall because I don't see them as being too time consuming, they don't take a lot of effort overall on my part, and they largely work to quell the amount of anxiety that I deal with daily. 

However, they have negative sides to them as well. I have a fair amount of anxiety related to my weight, body image and health. This means that skipping a workout or having a bad day in terms of eating means that my anxiety is immediately higher. I have a sense of self-inflicted guilt and shame, and I believe that any anxiety I'm experiencing is my own fault. Always having background noise means that it can sometimes be hard for me to ever be in a quiet space. It weirds me out and makes me jumpy. Further, my senses are usually very aware of everything going on around me, and it can be overwhelming for me if there are too many noises and I can't think at all, which makes me feel like I've lost control. In this way, even my positive coping mechanisms have some dark sides to them.

"Anxiety Portraits" - Kathrin Honesta

Then I have some coping mechanisms that are probably really not good for me at all; namely my proficiency for over-planning every damn detail of my life. I consider it a coping mechanism because it effectively does the same thing as everything else that I consider a coping mechanism: it limits the potential for my anxiety to mess up my day-to-day life. However, my obsession with planning has become just that: an obsession. Some days it's totally fine - a normal routine day where nothing out of the ordinary is set to happen so I just go about my business and nothing really needs to be planned. Other days it's consuming.

I will not go anywhere new without checking google maps first - a few times. Then I will still use my GPS to get there. I will leave extra early just in case a road is closed or there is traffic because lord knows I can't handle being late. I do not like going somewhere if I don't know exactly who is going to be there. Surprises are not my thing. I need to know what I'm going to be doing or where I will be going for lunch at least a day in advance. I check reviews of restaurants that I've never been to to check on the atmosphere and prepare for too much noise (see above for the reason why). I don't deviate from my route home unless I've already planned on it earlier in the day - this includes stopping to get gas if I need it. And further, I don't like going to gas stations that I've never been to before. Last minute "plans" aren't plans to me. I usually have my life planned out a week or two in advance. I know what I am going to wear tomorrow already. I know who I am going to see tomorrow. I know what I am going to work on tomorrow. I know what I am going to eat tomorrow. I know where I am going and when and how I am going to get there and how long it should take and one alternative route just in case. 

I know where I want my life to go. I have a one-year plan, a three-year plan, a five-year plan, a ten-year plan, and a long-term plan. More than just day-dreaming about it, I have a plan, I know the steps that I will need to take to achieve them. I think about them all the time. I'm constantly 'living in the future.' My brain is running two tracks constantly: what is happening now, and what will be happening later/tomorrow/next week/etc.

It's exhausting. But it helps me feel in control of my anxiety. It helps me avoid situations that catch me off guard. But sometimes it also makes it worse, I think - if things don't go according to my plan then I can lose it. The smallest thing can set me off - like my laptop not working when I was planning on working on homework. Or forgetting to take chicken out of the freezer when I was planning on making BBQ chicken salad. Or when I'm planning on getting gas but the prices hike and I have to decide if I'm going to wait or just suck it up. It all just puts me in a crappy situation where I'm more prone to a panic attack. 

It's a coping mechanism that damn near makes me need a coping mechanism to deal with it.

I'm trying to work on cognitive diffusion techniques that make those anxious moments that go against my plans have no power over my day. I have a lot more work to do there still.

"I will breathe.
I will think of solutions.
I will not let
my worry control me.
I will not let my
stress level break me.
I will simply breathe.
And it will be okay.
Because I don't quit."

-Shayne McClendon

The Anatomy of a Panic Attack

"Why am I having trouble sleeping?"
 - "Anxiety."
"Why does my stomach always hurt?"
- "Anxiety."
"Why does my chest feel tight?"
- "Anxiety."
"What could it BE??"
"IT IS ANXIETY"

- Sarah Andersen

A very fun (~*sarcasm*~) side effect of my anxiety is that I sometimes have panic attacks.

According to the internet, a panic attack is "a sudden episode of intense fear that triggers severe physical reactions when there is no real danger or apparent cause. Panic attacks can be very frightening. When panic attacks occur, you might think you're losing control, having a heart attack or even dying."

According to me, a panic attack is what happens when I no longer feel in control of a situation, or when something entirely unexpected happens, which causes my anxiety to overwhelm me to the point of being to consumed with my thoughts that I cannot breathe.

My panic attacks are characterized by hyperventilation, shaking, crying, and mild to moderate trichtillomania. (Trichtillomania is the impulsive action of pulling out one's hair.) When I am having a panic attack, I do everything I can to ground myself back in to my physical body and pull myself out of my anxious mind. For me, this often manifests in the need to pull my hair out. Yes, it hurts. Yes, it bothers me. Yes, I hate that this is how it happens. But it does help me regain my grip on certain situations and regulate my breathing and come down from my panic attacks.

"I can't breath
I need to get out of here!
This will pass!
What is wrong with me?
Am I having a heart attack?
I can't control my mind
Am I dying?
I think I'm going to faint!
Why can't I calm down?

During an attack I begin to feel lightheaded, my arms and legs go tingly and I think I might faint.

My thoughts race and my head starts spinning. I feel the world rushing at me and fading away at

the same time. I can't seem to get enough air and feel like my heart might pound out of my chest. I 

often think I might be dying or having a heart attack.

Attacks can arise without warning. The worst part is the feeling that you are no longer in control

of your mind or body. Now that. That is fear.

When it happens, I can't see outside the panic and the panic seems to last for an eternity. But

then slowly, very slowly, everything recedes and I'm left dreading the next attack."

- Carly Dick

I recently found out that my panic attacks can also cause me to dig my fingernails into my hands to the point of breaking skin, so that's new. I'm assuming it's for the same reason - some sort of physical discomfort can drag me out of my head and back in to my body. 

For me, I feel like a panic attack is a sign that my anxiety has won. It's a sign that I am not in control of myself and my emotions, and that makes me a failure. Ironically, that causes me anxiety. Further, I fear having a panic attack in public, and I fear what people would think of me if I did, which puts me even more on edge if I start to feel overwhelmed in a public setting.

It's a vicious cycle.

Obviously, my panic attacks are not actually a sign of weakness or failure. They're the manifestation of a response that my brain has adapted to "protect" me in situations that are "dangerous." Unfortunately, my brain and I disagree on what situations are dangerous, and what kind of responses are actually helpful in such a situation.

So I'm trying to learn to train my brain in to realizing which situation are actually worth getting all worked up over, and which ones aren't. So far, we continue to disagree most of the time. But I feel like I'm getting somewhere, and that's comforting at least. It gives me enough motivation to keep trying.

As long as I keep trying, then there is no failure.

"I lied and said I was busy. 

I was busy;

but not in a way most people understand.

I was busy taking deeper breaths.

I was busy silencing irrational thoughts.

I was busy calming a racing heart.

I was busy telling myself that I am okay.

Sometimes this is my busy - 

and I will not apologize for it."

- b.oakman; Anxiety Doesn't Knock First

Learning to Swallow My Pride

I see a counsellor.

I see a counsellor for my anxiety.

I see a counsellor for my anxiety because I cannot currently deal with my symptoms without help.

"antimonocromatismo II" - Silvia Pelissero (agnes-cecile.deviantart.com)

This does not make me weak. This does not make me less worthy. This does not mean that I am incapable of functioning. This does not mean that I am unable to help my friends when they need me.

These are all things that I am trying to learn, and still trying to believe.

It's the kind of thing where I KNOW that it's true, that going to counselling doesn't actually mean anything beyond the fact that I'm taking care of myself, but I'm still not 100% able to convince myself (ironically, because of my anxiety).

Part of me never wanted to have to go to a counsellor. A big part of me, actually. It felt like admitting defeat. If felt like my anxiety won - that if I couldn't handle it on my own, then it officially beat me. I set arbitrary little 'defeats' like that for myself all the time, for no reason other than to knock myself down. I think a part of it too is the stigma in our society that still surrounds counselling and, at a deeper level, asking for help. We're so individualistic and independent that needing others seems pathetic. Those who need counselling are not made to succeed, in the eyes of our Western World.

However, I finally found a counsellor that felt like a good fit for me (this is CRUCIAL - you can't just pick anyone and assume that it'll work out, you have to have a good relationship with your counsellor. I did so many different 20-minute introduction session and then never went back. And yes, this can be exhausting). My counsellor seems so human to me, and this is a blessing. She understands that I know the process behind counselling (I'm currently working towards a diploma in addictions counselling), and she takes that seriously and doesn't coddle me or dumb down the terminology. I can tell the strategies that she's using. I agree with them. And here's the key for me:

I. Am. Not. Fighting. The. Process. 

I accept that I am doing this counselling for my own benefit, and that if I'm gonna spend the money on it, then I may as well go all-in. No holding back. Do my homework. Be 100% honest. Accept her insights. DO. NOT. FIGHT. CHANGE.

But still, I struggle with the idea of counselling. Why am I so messed up that I need professional help? Are my problems really bad enough to take the time of my counsellor? Surely there's someone that needs her help more than I do. Has my anxiety won? Do I really think that counselling is actually going to help? Why can't I just solve my own problems? If my friends know that I'm going to counselling, will they stop coming to me for help? Do they think I'm weak? Am I weak? How can I think that I have what it takes to work in the field of helping others if I can't help myself? What will life be like without my anxiety symptoms overwhelming me? Will I just become emotionally numb? Will I know how to function without overthinking and planning everything?

I fear My anxiety fears all parts of counselling. The initiation, the process, the outcome.

But I still walk away from every counselling session feeling lighter. Feeling refreshed and ready to face tomorrow. I have a really good feeling about this, and I really do think it will help. It's another form of self-care, and I owe myself the time and effort.

I see a counsellor for my anxiety because I am strong enough to take care of myself.

"To read every day:

1. You are not a burden on your loved ones.

2. You care too much what other people think.

3. Things are never as bad or as hopeless as they seem.

4. Any progress is progress and should be celebrated.

5. Treat yourself nicely today." 

- The Latest Kate