Living a life that's Wirth it.

I don’t know about you, but my anxiety can become ‘the ignored child’. The one that keeps tapping your shoulder to get your attention. Harder and faster the more you ignore. Sometimes I can give it the attention it craves and it feels better and goes to play by itself for a while. Then, sometimes, it is not satisfied and just keeps picking at me for more. It picks and picks and picks until I finally explode. Then everything that happens feeds it, and every interaction is not safe, and every thought in my brain is real, and I am not able to calm them down or regulate them.

The funny thing is, I get really confident and feel really good, and I think I have beat it. I have moved passed this thing that controls me so much. And, just when I least expect it, the wobbly bridge of confidence experiences an earthquake- or sometimes just a light breeze- and it crumbles to the ground. Those patches and mended cracks get weaker and weaker, and sometimes they crumble under their own weight because they just can’t keep up the appearances any more.

What I can’t understand is why am I always surprised by it? Why do I not seem to understand that I will never be ‘over’ my anxiety. Will the feeling that creeps into my body, consuming my lungs until I can’t breathe, get better? Yes. Will I fight the thoughts of inadequacy and fear of judgement daily? Yes. Will I be ‘healed’? I don’t know.

I know I have so many things to be grateful for. I know that I have a lot of things going for me. I know that I have worked my stinkin tail off to get to where I am… and I have come a long ways. I honor that. I really do. AND; the daily battle is exhausting.

I worry that something I say will be misunderstood and offend someone.

I worry that something I do will be seen as ‘weird’.

I worry that someone I teach will not feel how safe they are with me.

I worry that every text I send; email I write; will not be interpreted how I mean it.

I worry that people I love will not understand how much I love them and would do anything for them.

I worry that people I love will not believe that I NEVER intend to offend or hurt.

I worry that the people I do not love will not approve.

I worry that the people I do not love will judge.

I worry that I am not strong enough to keep carrying this weight every day, and that some day, I will drop it. And it will land on my big toe. And that will hurt. A lot.

I am sitting here in the midst of this feeling, trying, for the first time to write it out of my body, rather than run to the people who have triggered this feeling and ask for explanation or to anxiesplain myself. (Yes, I am going to trademark that phrase!)

Sitting in the commons area of Schindler Ed. right now, I am literally walking away from that feeling every time it reenters my body. I get up and move to a different bench, a different sofa, a different table. I was looking over my shoulder and kept scanning the crowds. For what? I have no idea. But I did not feel safe. My chest was tight, and my ears were pulled back- stuck in this tense state of alert that has caused me chronic pain in my neck and head for the latter part of my life.

I was not comfortable sitting near anyone, which was hard because it was full of people. As the crowd shifted and began to thin, I found myself a place in a booth- by myself- and finally began to release some tension.

I sit here now, typing this entry, knowing that it is a temporary fix. Knowing that the grip of the “BUG” (Big ‘un’Friendly Giant) has released for now, and trying to figure out what to do. How do I build a stronger bridge that the BUG will not crumble? Strong enough for my imaginary tiny house where all my worries are expelled through visual meditation. Strong enough so that when I start to feel that grip, I can stand on my bridge and watch the water wash it away.

What caused this anxiety? It really doesn’t matter. It could be anything. And a lot of people around me would never know this is going on in my mind. I smile. I engage. I participate. I stand in front of adults and children and present and teach. I push it down for a while to do what is expected of me. And only in the depths of my own loneliness do I know what I really feel.

I have let very few people in on my ‘cues’. The things to look for when I am struggling. I use less eye contact. I don’t smile as much. I am not overly zealous to participate in a conversation. I take lots of deep breaths. I book myself so busy that I don’t have time to think about anything. I explain, then explain again. I ask if everyone else is okay; because I know I am not. And, eventually, I remove myself from society. I stay home. I stop talking to friends. I eventually lose those friends because they don’t know how to stick with me.

Unfortunately, my ADHD likes to battle my anxiety- because my ADHD says “let’s go” “we can do ALL the things”!!! And then I overcommit, overwork myself, burn out, and end up right back where I started. Sometimes the anxiety causes the burn out, and sometimes the burn out causes anxiety.

If you have read this far, thanks for hanging on. I don’t have an answer. Today, I don’t have a goal for this entry except to be real. And to try to address a never-ending issue in a way I have never tried.

Peter Reynolds is a very talented author. Most known for books such as “The Dot”, “Ish”, and “Word Collector”. He asks everyone how they will make their ‘Dot’ in the world. I am beginning to see that maybe my Dot is to help others know they are not alone.