On June 23rd, 2007 at 7:07am I became a mother for the first time. This is the day I met the little man who had been filling me with love and hope, keeping me company for the last nine months, and who immediately made me have a better understanding of my own mother and why she is the way she is.
Your anxiety as a parent begins the moment that child exits your body. Are they turning pink? Why aren't they crying yet? Is he crying too softly? Does he have all of his fingers and toes? All of these concerns are something every parent goes through in those first 5 minutes with your child. It only grows and grows as they get older. You think it would be eased, but a new set of worries comes with each developmental stage. When will he crawl? When will he walk? Why isn't he talking yet?
I try to take control of my anxiety and make it as much of a choice as I can. I have a very clear way to talk myself out of an attack. I ask myself this question, is this something I can control? If the answer is yes, my mind unfortunately will not calm down until I come to a resolution. If the answer is no, I resolve that it is no longer my problem.
This is where my mom couldn't change. I wish I had been there for her somehow when we were growing up, or someone had some advice for her, or a ear to vent to. The choice for her, was to always be on guard, to always be consumed with worry, whether or not it was in her control. My anxiety tends to center around my children, as I am sure it does with a lot of parents who have this condition. My worry is irrational though, about scenarios that are likely to never happen. This is what made me adapt and ask the question "Is this something I can control?" I want to be there for people like my mom, people who don't have anyone to talk to, people who have no idea why their bodies are betraying them and why their minds wont let them settle. I want people like my mom to not feel alone, different, or ashamed their minds and bodies react the way they do. So everyday I try my best to make my anxiety my choice as much as possible, and be an example to look up to.
Monday 26 September 2011
Motherhood makes you crazy
Sunday 25 September 2011
My role model for calm and rational, my dad.
I have nothing but respect and admiration for my mother; she was basically a single working mother who raised 3 kids and was our sole financial and emotional provider, and taught me many other things besides how to be anxious, that I will talk about at another time. But I need to give my dad some credit.
My dad let me be a kid. When I went to my dad's house every second weekend, I was free. The kind of free most kids get to be and take for granted. I was allowed to play in the yard, I was allowed to walk in the blueberry fields and collect berries for tomorrow's pancake breakfast, I was allowed to play with tools and nails and wood to build any creation I liked. My dad taught me my respect for our elders, he taught me that manners shouldn't be just an obligation but a genuine sign of thanks and appreciation, my dad taught me that I was normal just as much as I was anxious.
I've always related to my dad in a different way than the rest of my immediate family, it might be because we look nearly identical, or it might be because a large piece of him was able to come through in me and not my siblings. My ability to let the small stuff roll off my back comes from him. Mom gave me the ability to fight the difficult and be strong and how to struggle and be a survivor, but dad showed me how to not let the little things make you crack. My dad suffers no mental ailments, my dad calls him self an idiot savant, probably because he ended up working menial warehouse jobs after having 3 unplanned children very young in order to pay rent and child support, instead of reaching his full potential. I think my dad would have been an amazing teacher, he has an unbelievable memory for history and interesting facts, another quality I inherited from him.
So to my dad, I say thank you. Your love of knowledge and your playful ability to let the small stuff slide truly rubbed off on me and made it easier to be who I am.
My dad let me be a kid. When I went to my dad's house every second weekend, I was free. The kind of free most kids get to be and take for granted. I was allowed to play in the yard, I was allowed to walk in the blueberry fields and collect berries for tomorrow's pancake breakfast, I was allowed to play with tools and nails and wood to build any creation I liked. My dad taught me my respect for our elders, he taught me that manners shouldn't be just an obligation but a genuine sign of thanks and appreciation, my dad taught me that I was normal just as much as I was anxious.
I've always related to my dad in a different way than the rest of my immediate family, it might be because we look nearly identical, or it might be because a large piece of him was able to come through in me and not my siblings. My ability to let the small stuff roll off my back comes from him. Mom gave me the ability to fight the difficult and be strong and how to struggle and be a survivor, but dad showed me how to not let the little things make you crack. My dad suffers no mental ailments, my dad calls him self an idiot savant, probably because he ended up working menial warehouse jobs after having 3 unplanned children very young in order to pay rent and child support, instead of reaching his full potential. I think my dad would have been an amazing teacher, he has an unbelievable memory for history and interesting facts, another quality I inherited from him.
So to my dad, I say thank you. Your love of knowledge and your playful ability to let the small stuff slide truly rubbed off on me and made it easier to be who I am.
Memories of an anxious child.
I've never really written these memories down, or shared them with the world like I am now. Another factor that exaggerates my anxiety has been my self awareness. I have always been extremely aware of my surroundings, the energies and attitudes of others, and even the inner workings of my own body. I have been this way as early as I can remember, probably around 6. I have always been extremely articulate when it comes to my feelings, be them physical or emotional. I use the term "hypochondriac" very loosely with myself, but I relate to the definition. I am always worried that changes in my physical well being are always for the worse. As soon as my heart races, as soon as there is a color or texture difference in my skin, a sudden headache, anything at all really, my immediate thoughts turn to doom. I have gotten better over time with coping techniques and the other half of me, the side that fights the anxious thoughts, she tells me to shut up and be normal. Not literally, I don't hear voices, don't worry.
I've come to realize that I have been this way from at least 6 years old. My earliest memory of my self awareness becoming an issue starts around then. I cannot remember the exact ailment I was dealing with, likely a stomach ache from my secret over eating that I am sure is either a product of or symptom of my anxiety, but I complained to my mother and was persistent about the issue. I was taken to the doctor promptly. I can remember overhearing the doctor telling my mother that there was no issue with my physical health, but I was suffering from "Middle Child Syndrome." The doctor believed my symptoms sparked from a lack of attention I was seeking to fix. Having been so aware of my feelings even at that age, I was outraged, I truly felt as though something was physically wrong with me. Something was wrong with me, not physically, but already my mind raced and my irrational thoughts consumed my attention. I haven't always been awesome. It has taken years of introspection and finding what works best for me to avoid an anxiety episode turning in to a full blown panic attack.
I don't regret the experiences I've had, or the fact it took years for myself and my doctor to realize I am the way am. Not having easy answers, not knowing, that has been whats inspired me to learn about myself and to share my experiences in dealing with mental illness.
I've come to realize that I have been this way from at least 6 years old. My earliest memory of my self awareness becoming an issue starts around then. I cannot remember the exact ailment I was dealing with, likely a stomach ache from my secret over eating that I am sure is either a product of or symptom of my anxiety, but I complained to my mother and was persistent about the issue. I was taken to the doctor promptly. I can remember overhearing the doctor telling my mother that there was no issue with my physical health, but I was suffering from "Middle Child Syndrome." The doctor believed my symptoms sparked from a lack of attention I was seeking to fix. Having been so aware of my feelings even at that age, I was outraged, I truly felt as though something was physically wrong with me. Something was wrong with me, not physically, but already my mind raced and my irrational thoughts consumed my attention. I haven't always been awesome. It has taken years of introspection and finding what works best for me to avoid an anxiety episode turning in to a full blown panic attack.
I don't regret the experiences I've had, or the fact it took years for myself and my doctor to realize I am the way am. Not having easy answers, not knowing, that has been whats inspired me to learn about myself and to share my experiences in dealing with mental illness.
Saturday 24 September 2011
How conflicting confidence can be when you suffer anxiety
My whole inspiration for this blog was to basically brag about myself. That someone with severe anxiety can remain a confident, normal, happy, functioning member of society. If I ever had to describe myself with a positive and negative, I would likely use the title of this blog "Anxious but Awesome."
When I personally think of anxious people, I think of the mentally ill, of people who cannot function without the aid of psycho therapy while being heavily medicated. I know this image is entirely untrue, but part of me worries that's where I will end up one day if I let this take over my life.
But here I am! I really like myself. I wake up everyday, usually smiling. To me life is beautiful and valuable and easily taken for granted. I am actually sometimes thankful for the irrational physical symptoms I get with my anxiety. They tend to kick my butt and make me take a step back and realize how much I would be losing if these symptoms weren't just a manifestation of my over active mind.
I've always been a confident person, from a very young age. I was just 10 years old, already suffering from anxiety, when I realized that I loved myself. There were children in my class who made fun of my weight, or my annoying habit of blurting whats on mind, or my overuse of my new found love of sarcasm, they were relentless in trying to break me down. But they failed. At that tender age, just before being thrown in to puberty, I loved myself. I saw all the good in me and couldn't believe they didn't. This love and respect for myself, I believe, is what carries me through this condition.
I think confidence is an important tool to be used to cope with anxiety. Whether it be confidence in yourself, or confidence in the rational world meaning - no you aren't going to die this second, no the oven isn't going to explode, no your car isn't going to drive itself off a bridge with you and your children inside.
Another perhaps untypical characteristic of someone with anxiety like mine, is the fact that I am very outgoing. I am a people person through and through. At a party who is talking to new people? Me. Awkward silence while getting your gas tank filled, not with me in the car. First one to raise their hand and offer their opinion, yep that's me too.
Why would someone who panics and experiences extreme fears do what so many people are afraid of? I don't really know. My only current explanation is that I am awesome. Despite my ability to be irrational when I start to notice my heart race, or how I worry daily what will happen if there's an earthquake while my children are away from me. I hope this blog helps me find more people like me, or help more people be like me. I am, anxious but awesome.
When I personally think of anxious people, I think of the mentally ill, of people who cannot function without the aid of psycho therapy while being heavily medicated. I know this image is entirely untrue, but part of me worries that's where I will end up one day if I let this take over my life.
But here I am! I really like myself. I wake up everyday, usually smiling. To me life is beautiful and valuable and easily taken for granted. I am actually sometimes thankful for the irrational physical symptoms I get with my anxiety. They tend to kick my butt and make me take a step back and realize how much I would be losing if these symptoms weren't just a manifestation of my over active mind.
I've always been a confident person, from a very young age. I was just 10 years old, already suffering from anxiety, when I realized that I loved myself. There were children in my class who made fun of my weight, or my annoying habit of blurting whats on mind, or my overuse of my new found love of sarcasm, they were relentless in trying to break me down. But they failed. At that tender age, just before being thrown in to puberty, I loved myself. I saw all the good in me and couldn't believe they didn't. This love and respect for myself, I believe, is what carries me through this condition.
I think confidence is an important tool to be used to cope with anxiety. Whether it be confidence in yourself, or confidence in the rational world meaning - no you aren't going to die this second, no the oven isn't going to explode, no your car isn't going to drive itself off a bridge with you and your children inside.
Another perhaps untypical characteristic of someone with anxiety like mine, is the fact that I am very outgoing. I am a people person through and through. At a party who is talking to new people? Me. Awkward silence while getting your gas tank filled, not with me in the car. First one to raise their hand and offer their opinion, yep that's me too.
Why would someone who panics and experiences extreme fears do what so many people are afraid of? I don't really know. My only current explanation is that I am awesome. Despite my ability to be irrational when I start to notice my heart race, or how I worry daily what will happen if there's an earthquake while my children are away from me. I hope this blog helps me find more people like me, or help more people be like me. I am, anxious but awesome.
Introduction
I guess I'll start with the recent events that inspired me to create this blog. My anxiety was recently so bad that I had physical symptoms so powerful; I was compelled to call 9-1-1 at work thinking that I was in fact, going to die. This is hilarious to me now, but at the moment I truly thought my existence was ending and even worse my impact for good on this earth was meager at best. Now I don't think by creating a blog and maybe putting a few smiles on a few faces, does that improve my impact.. but it will at least start a chain of events in myself that keep the positive energy moving to inspire bigger and better things.
You'll have to forgive my poor grammar, which funnily enough has sometimes been a source of anxiety for me. I swear the two weeks where they taught grammar in third grade coincided with my "see how well I fake sick" phase. And the "see how well I fake sick" phase may have coincided with my being turned down flat by my third grade crush. Ah, anxiety, you've had a hold on me for a very long time.
I am the middle child of an older brother and a younger sister, both who live with anxiety as well. Growing up we had an extremely anxious mother. Using anxious to describe her is a very mild way of putting it. I love my mother very much, but she didn't let us go out with friends when the moon was full. Now either she was hiding a family secret that we were werewolves, or she was overwhelmed and controlled by her fear of the "what could happen" 's. My mother grew up with little to no supervision with her six siblings in the early 70's. A time where my grandmothers hair appointments were more important than feeding her seven children, a time where my mother had no guidance and became a bully and a bad girl, a time that was so utterly different than the one she raised me in.
Being a mother of two small boys myself, I respect my mother so much more each time I worry about them. But I also worry that my anxiety will pass on to them like my mothers did to me. Everyday I try to be rational and logical and think of all the ways my life is safe and blessed instead of all the horrible things that could happen. This blog is to remind me that anxiety is simply my over active thought process that occasionally controls my body, turning me in to a hypochondriac freak. This blog is to help other people suffering from anxiety to see that through the irrationality of it all, you can be normal and happy too.
You'll have to forgive my poor grammar, which funnily enough has sometimes been a source of anxiety for me. I swear the two weeks where they taught grammar in third grade coincided with my "see how well I fake sick" phase. And the "see how well I fake sick" phase may have coincided with my being turned down flat by my third grade crush. Ah, anxiety, you've had a hold on me for a very long time.
I am the middle child of an older brother and a younger sister, both who live with anxiety as well. Growing up we had an extremely anxious mother. Using anxious to describe her is a very mild way of putting it. I love my mother very much, but she didn't let us go out with friends when the moon was full. Now either she was hiding a family secret that we were werewolves, or she was overwhelmed and controlled by her fear of the "what could happen" 's. My mother grew up with little to no supervision with her six siblings in the early 70's. A time where my grandmothers hair appointments were more important than feeding her seven children, a time where my mother had no guidance and became a bully and a bad girl, a time that was so utterly different than the one she raised me in.
Being a mother of two small boys myself, I respect my mother so much more each time I worry about them. But I also worry that my anxiety will pass on to them like my mothers did to me. Everyday I try to be rational and logical and think of all the ways my life is safe and blessed instead of all the horrible things that could happen. This blog is to remind me that anxiety is simply my over active thought process that occasionally controls my body, turning me in to a hypochondriac freak. This blog is to help other people suffering from anxiety to see that through the irrationality of it all, you can be normal and happy too.
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