when anxiety holds you back (all of the the damn time)

I love playing soccer.

I'm standing across the street from a soccer field where 10 of my closest friends are playing a heated game of soccer. Naturally, my first instinct is to run over there and join in.

The problem is...I'm chained to a wall on the other side of the street.

It's not a metal chain--more of a zip-tie that could most definitely be broken if I really tried. 

So there I am...tied to this wall as I see all of my great friends playing my favorite sport right in front of me. 

I want to run over there but that zip-tie is somewhat in my way. I decide it is not worth it. I decide to stay stuck to the wall.

Anxiety. Like an abusive partner who won't let me break free. He wants all of my attention and keeps me from feeling free and full of joy.

Certain opportunities are a distant dream that I cannot seem to grasp because anxiety just won’t grant me its license. There are so many undertakings that I crave, and still, the trepidation is far too much. What even is this fear? Where does this come from? I can yearn for something more than anything in the world but this cruel, inexplicable safety harness keeps me from reaching toward it. 

It is so much more than a comfort zone--a safety net. No...it is a locked door to which a key has not yet been generated. It is a plastic bag that has been super glued to my neck.

I have not given up. I'm crafty. I know a great locksmith. I own goo-gone.

I have not given up. I'm just vigilant and moving forward.

On Suicidality and Selfishness

**Trigger Warning: This article may be triggering to those struggling with suicidal ideation or other mental illnesses. **

"Suicide isn’t chosen. It happens when pain exceeds resources for coping with pain. When you wake up in extreme pain and crippling sickness and get mad at God for allowing you to wake up instead of thanking him for the day. Because you don’t want the day…because you have no choice in your life anymore.

Two years ago I didn’t know this, and I thought that people who died by suicide were selfish, insane, weak, and stupid. I thought they were willingly throwing away the life they were given because they were momentarily frustrated or sad or angry or even just pessimistic. I had no idea that I soon would be in the position of fighting intense suicidal urges. I didn’t realize that suicide was more than just being selfish and stupid. It’s just about utter hopelessness and an inability to cope with circumstances. A permanent solution for a temporary problem? Sometimes, yes. But what about when the problem isn’t temporary? Or when you have no way of knowing if it’s temporary and you truly cannot live another day in such agony…

That’s all suicide is about. Coping. A natural human instinct. I don’t feel bad or weak because of it. I don’t even feel like I truly WANT to die. Quite the opposite, really. I just have more pain than I can cope with. It’s certainly not my first choice to die but when every day is agonizing and this is what life is, I cannot see myself living like this any longer. "

You're probably wondering what kind of messed up website that excerpt came from. You might be frustrated with the author's opinion of suicide being a coping mechanism and not being selfish. Maybe you understand and wholeheartedly agree with the above words because you've fought demons of your own. Maybe you're not sure.

Well, I'll let you on a (not so little) secret. The author of that excerpt is me. That was a few paragraphs out of my six page long suicide letter that was composed on December 31, 2016.

If you know me, that lil' nugget of information may have completely caught you off guard. In fact, the mere fact that I'm even writing this post is because I'm convinced that what I went through for the past year and half had to happen so that I can help others. I didn't see it whatsoever whilst in the thick of it--but now I do. So here I am. If you're someone that's shocked and dismayed and embarrassed at the fact that I'm writing this post...you can go. I refuse to let my experience remain enclosed when releasing it can be beautiful for others. 

Long story short--if you're new here--I've struggled, since I was about 17 or 18, with various and varying degrees of mental illnesses. Anxiety, depression, an eating disorder, a somatic disorder, and PTSD being the main ones. I have zero shame in saying that because if there's one thing I've learned it's that I didn't make any one choice that gave me any of those diseases--they were brought on by genetics, trauma, life experiences, and honestly who knows what else. But it doesn't mean I'm crazy or a disgrace to society. The reason I say that is because I am a very high-functioning member of society--4.0 GPA, involved in all the extracurriculars, graduated college at 21, etc. I'm not some crazy monster that brought these things on herself. And neither is anyone that deals with similar mental disorders.

Anyway.

The first time I had a suicidal urge was September of 2016. I lived away from family at the time. I won't go into detail so as to avoid triggering others, but it caught me off guard and terrified me. I never understood what it would have to take to bring someone to consider suicide...I could never imagine any circumstance where I would want to do that. But all of 2016 had been so rough on me--several hospital admissions--one even 3 weeks long, failed therapy attempts, failed medications, countless medical problems that weren't getting resolved...

That's the insidious nature of depression and suicidal ideation--when the urges or severe episodes come, they COME. And death feels like the only option. Because you've exhausted all your resources--all your coping skills. And YOU'RE exhausted because every day is like World War 3 in your head.  

From September to December I continued to struggle, to varying degrees, with my depression. I was always baseline depressed, and then every week or two I would have a major depressive episode. We're talking can't-get-out-of-bed-or-shower-and-want-to-crawl-out-of-your-skin-and-die type of episode. Hallucinations. Catatonic states. Memory loss. A seizure, even.

The worst episode happened around December 28th of last year. I began my letter, unsure if I would magically come out of the episode and change my mind or not. On December 31st, a series of events led me to printing out the letter and leaving it on the kitchen counter for my parents and family. I then went upstairs to my room.

I'm still alive, clearly.

I don't need to go into specifics about that time. Soon after that day, I was admitted to a program that helped me deal with my severe depression, trauma and other mental health issues for a while. I moved to Denver for about three months. I also finally gained back all of the weight (and more) that I lost from my eating disorder because after being chronically very underweight for five years, my body needed to not be under physical stress so that my mind could work on healing, as well. I have not had a major depressive episode since that time--I currently see a therapist once or twice a week, a psychologist (because I'm finally on medication even though for so long I fought it), and this week I will be starting a type of therapy for trauma called EMDR. I underwent very extensive (and expensive) psychological testing that provided extensive information about my illnesses and treatment for them from here on out. I learned a lot about myself including that I struggle with a severe somatoform disorder. This disorder makes me get very, very sick whenever I am anxious or depressed or detects a threat--my body actually begins to attack itself for survival to protect me from my brain. This very disorder is what caused all of my health issues last year. 

I have spent the last five months working harder than I ever have on my mental health. Actually, on my physical health, too! For me, I needed to gain almost sixty pounds to finally not be underweight anymore and that required a lot of sitting and A LOT of food. I've had to wake up early for therapy appointments, undergo a lot of trial and error with many medications, take time off of work completely, and prolong going to graduate school just to focus on my mental health. My mental health was so poor that I almost killed myself on more than one occasion. If you're struggling, don't think you can just distract and avoid and get through it. Pay attention to your mental health.

I spent all of 2016 and the first few months of this year in the darkest, scariest, lowest place I've ever been in. I never saw a way out. Actually, I still have days where I see no way out. But I can say with 100% surety that I went through all of this because it's going to come in GREAT handy when I have my degree in Psychology and I'm helping others that struggle like I do. Maybe there will be another reason, too, (maybe I'll meet my future husband one day when I'm walking to therapy hahaha) but I know for sure that one of my top five values in life is empathy, and I have a whole lot of empathy to give.

Now, I'm returning to work, planning on returning to school in the fall, feeling (and looking, sheesh) physically a whole lot better, and dealing with only minor anxiety and occasional depressive, intrusive thoughts. I still have flashbacks but have hope that through EMDR I will be able to lower the pain that PTSD causes me and the effect it has on my other disorders. 

On the outside it's nearly impossible to tell that I struggle in the way that I do. So many people have sent me messages or left comments asking how I "got" all of these illnesses since I'm a successful, attractive, privileged, young, white woman. My answer for that is I DON'T KNOW HOMIE. But I do know that there are millions of others like me out there thinking they're the only one out there that has some of the nastiest demons inside but hides them inside a picture perfect exterior. 

Is suicide selfish? My answer is a big fat NOPE. Because trust me, I knew that my family and friends would be devastated and truthfully the one thing that could take the edge off my urges was thinking about my three little nieces growing up. I did not want to die because I was weak, or selfish, or careless, or cowardly. I just wanted a relief from the physical and mental pain I was experiencing. But the thing is--death isn't a relief. No one is relieved in the midst of suicide. In fact, it's a very painful experience. I've got a purpose here, and I'm not leaving until I've served that purpose. 

So, no, I am not weak, selfish, careless, or cowardly. I am STRONG as hell, EMPATHETIC more than you can imagine, THOUGHTFUL in every sense of the word, and BRAVE because I'm here today after making it through the hardest time of my life thus far. And brave because it's not over yet--I'm not healed, and I may never be. But with acceptance I don't have to be completely whole. I just have to be willing to fight. I look back on that day in December spent in the hospital (and the dozens of other times) and I am shocked by the person I am now. I do not feel victimized or sorry for myself because of my illnesses. I feel empowered and special and capable. I'm a warrior. 

Annalise

If you're struggling with thoughts of suicide, please reach out. Talk to a trusting family member, friend, therapist... or call the National Suicide Prevention Hotline at 1-800-273-8255

Is Depression a Real Illness? {Pt 2}

After tackling the beast called anxiety, I figured it's time to touch on yet another topic that I personally deal with and am highly fascinated by. (Yes, the brain is fascinating and even though I curse mine I am genuinely intrigued by its functioning--or lack thereof--ha.)

First of all, this article explains a lot of the research showing how real depression is as an actual illness. A key excerpt that I believe is vital for people to understand:

"Depression is, indeed, a culture-bound syndrome and at the same time it is a very terrible disease, which cannot and should not be equated with low or bad mood, sadness, or any other "aberration from the norm of happiness": it differs from these normal mental states symptomatically in the intensity of suffering experienced, in its character (such as resistance to distraction and other symptoms of the paralysis of the will, expressed among other things in the characteristic lack of motivation), and in its functional effects. An occasionally sad person is not dysfunctional, a depressed one is--depression destroys relationships and renders one incapable of performing one's duties, it is as real and serious a handicap as any physical one. Neither should depression be seen as an exaggeration of normal mental states, differing from them only quantitatively, or equated with normal reactions to particularly traumatic life events... As anyone who has experienced depression or observed closely persons suffering from depression knows, this absence of an external cause often leads the suffering individual to suspect oneself of madness."

Depression is a real and often lethal disease. Clinical depression affects not only mood and thoughts, but also the physical body. Individuals coping with depression have a higher level of stress hormones present in their bodies, and the brain scans of depression patients show decreased activity in some areas of the brain (1). 

Being depressed is not simply having a case of the blues. 

"Depressed" is not an adjective that should be thrown around lightly. Imagine if you complained to a cancer patient that you had a slight stuffy nose as they were unsure if they would be able to make it through the month alive. Now imagine you say "that's depressing" or "I just got really depressed for a sec" to someone who ACTUALLY struggles with severe depression. What a slap in the face.

As we've all heard before (yet most choose to ignore this wise advice) it is of no use to tell someone with depression that "it's all in your head," or "you should eat X and do Y workout," or "you're so miserable and negative to be around," or "you just need to think positive," ... the list goes on. (I've had some very invalidating and insulting remarks made while in a deep, deep state of suicidal depression. I'm not being overly sensitive--I will admit that I am quite the HSP and empath--but these remarks have cut me deep and only worsened the guilt which adds fuel to the depressive fire.)

So, no, being sad is not a legitimate medical illness but clinical depression most certainly is. 

There are a wide array of symptoms that can present themselves when one is depressed. For the sake of not making this a laundry list, I will list the symptoms I have experienced:

• Persistent sad, anxious, or "empty" mood (the empty, numb, catatonic state is the scariest to me)
• Feelings of hopelessness & pessimism (as an otherwise optimistic person)
• Irritability (more than just typical teenage angst, or in my case...22 yr-old angst?)
• Feelings of guilt, worthlessness, & helplessness (constantly...even when I'm doing somewhat okay)
• Loss of interest in just about everything (except puppies)
• Lack of energy; debilitating fatigue (I cannot even lift an arm or cry)
• Talking & moving very slowly (I'm talking like the sloth in ZooTopia)
• Difficulty concentrating, remembering, making decisions (I have severe memory lapses...severe enough to freak out my family)
• Difficulty sleeping even though I'm exhausted OR sleeping 12+ hours a day (Nap queen)
• Lack of appetite (Not very fun when you have to eat recovery amounts of food)
• Thoughts of death or suicide, creating a suicide plan (these feel very impulsive and I can tell it is my brain malfunctioning when it gets this bad...I'm not a suicidal individual)
• Body aches, headaches, cramps, digestive problems (my GI disease worsens when I'm depressed)
• Inability to participate in life. At all. (And that's the kicker)

So why, even with all of those terrible symptoms of depression, are many individuals not recognizing it as a real disease? Why do so many poke fun at or downplay the seriousness of depression? Why are depressed individuals seen as lazy, dramatic, sensitive, dark, stupid... Why can we not call out of work depressed but a coworker can call in with a head cold? Why, with all of the information that we have on this terrible disease, is it still so misunderstood? 

As I stated in part one of this series on mental illnesses, this lack of knowledge is simply a lack of experience. One cannot truly empathize with a sufferer unless they themselves have been through the experience. I can sympathize with someone who lost their husband in a car crash but I cannot empathize. My dad can sympathize that I am struggling with a chronic illness, autoimmune issues and a wide array of mental illnesses but he cannot empathize. Our lack of experience can try to be replaced by studying and trying to understand these circumstances that we have not faced but ultimately it will never be enough. (But, that's not to say we shouldn't try to understand.) 

Unless every person on this earth were to experience depression there will be no way to ultimately end the negative stigmas surrounding the disease. (And any mental illness, for that matter.) It's unfortunate, but it is also great. Because that means that the ignorance of those who don't understand is simply a byproduct of their privilege. It is a huge privilege to not have to battle mental illness every single second of every day. Heck, I'm jealous of that privilege! So yeah, sucks for us struggling but great for those who aren't!

The crux of this post is that depression is a very real illness and must be treated as such. I don't mean treated in the medical sense, (though medical and/or behavioral intervention is often crucial) but rather in the relational sense. If you are someone who has no personal experience with depression and someone in your life struggles with it, please know that you likely will not ever understand what they face on a daily basis. Try not to get frustrated with their apparent miserable attitude or laziness. Be patient with them when they flake on you or let you down. The battle that wages in their head is large enough without the guilt put on them by those they love. They are not trying to act this way. 

I don't write all of this to make loved ones feel bad about their efforts. It takes a very patient, kind, understanding person to maintain a relationship with a depressed individual and I very much recognize that. I just know that most of the time, I wish those around me understood that I'm not acting this way because it's just who I am as a person. My heart is loving, motivated, kind, selfless, and happy. My brain, when in a depressive state, likes to act the complete opposite, try as I might to change it. But that is the nature of depression. It is truly one of the largest burdens I have had to deal with in my life. It's an illness, not a character trait. It's a disease, not a choice. It's the way my brain is currently responding to a chemical imbalance and the relationship between all of the little faulty neurons in there, not me trying to be a lazy, flaky, dark, miserable, hopeless human. 

So, yes, depression is a real illness.

References:

1.  http://www.healthcentral.com/depression/just-diagnosed-822-143.html

Is Anxiety a Real Illness? {Pt 1}

"Stop worrying so much."

"Just don't think about it."

"How are you this upset over such a small thing? It's not a big deal."

"Why can't you hang out ever?"

"You've missed too many days of work."

"Other people have it so much worse and aren't this upset about it."

If you struggle, or have ever struggled with anxiety, you have probably heard most if not all of the above phrases multiple times throughout the course of your life. I'm sorry for that.

It would be fantastic if everyone could truly and deeply understand what each and every one of us that struggle with anxiety experience on a day-to-day, usually minute-to-minute basis. Unfortunately, this is simply not possible! In order to truly empathize with a sufferer, one must know what anxiety really feels like.

It is for this reason that I am relieved that most of my loved ones do not understand what I deal with--I would never in a million years wish anxiety upon anyone. 

The purpose of this post is not to try to explain what an anxiety disorder is like to someone that does not understand. While I see value in those types of posts I ultimately do not see the stigmas, misconceptions and judgements surrounding anxiety simply going away because someone read an article that describes what a panic attack is like.

I wish for those who do not understand to simply know just that--you do not understand. Since you have no valid way to compare what generalized anxiety, social anxiety, or a panic attack really feels like, you have no means to judge these experiences. You can try to compare anxiety to stress and say, "Oh, yeah, I had a lot of anxiety last night over that psych test." In reality, you are comparing an uncomfortable stressful experience to a real mental illness. You are making light of something that is debilitating and dangerous for many people...

...Which brings me to the crux of this post--is anxiety a real illness?

PHYSICAL

Usually when we think of illness we think of the flu, a cold, pneumonia, maybe even cancer. This is because illness is typically associated with physical symptoms. 

Fatigue, irritability, muscle tension/aches, trembling, twitching, being easily startled, trouble sleeping, sweating, nausea, diarrhea, irritable bowel syndrome, headaches... these are just a few physical manifestations of anxiety (1). Personally, I experience fatigue, irritability, sensitivity to sound, trouble sleeping, sweating, nausea, extreme stomach upset, IBS, headaches, loss of breath, shaking, feelings of impending doom, confusion, passing out, numb legs, memory lapses, and more. 

People with chronic physical illnesses such as heart disease, respiratory disorders and GI conditions (like myself) often struggle with anxiety and in many cases, the anxiety was the loaded gun to developing the chronic illness. These diseases are far more difficult to treat when the sufferer struggles with anxiety; thus, the symptoms become worse and in many cases they die sooner (2). 

By simply examining the physical symptoms of anxiety it is evident that the quality of one's life is very drastically compromised. 

MENTAL

I have been told by loved ones that I should not consider myself mentally ill because I have anxiety. (I also struggle with depression, OCD, PTSD, and I am in lifelong recovery from an eating disorder...but the anxiety, for whatever reason, means that I am not mentally ill.) 

Aside from the fact that I have no shame in saying that I struggle with mental illnesses because again, a mental illness is as real as a physical one and not any easier, the notion that anxiety disorder is not a legitimate mental illness infuriates me. 

My entire life has been shaped by my anxiety. Anxiety affects nearly every aspect of my life. All of my years of schooling were driven by perfectionism and worry and fueled by panic attacks. I've spent more hours in the bathroom dealing with GI issues than I have hours sleeping. Anxiety was the root of my eating disorder, it perpetuates my OCD behaviors and worsens my PTSD episodes. Anxiety kept me in an abusive relationship, caused me to act out in impulsive ways, and kept me up all night every night for almost two years. Anxiety has made my entire year struggling with chronic illness a living hell and has made my physical symptoms of my illness magnify tenfold. It has driven me to rock bottom and made me almost end my life on various occasions. Anxiety is the most abusive partner I could ever ask for in my life, and I cannot get rid of it. 

"There may be times when your worries don't completely consume you, but you still feel anxious even when there's no apparent reason. Your anxiety, worry or physical symptoms cause you significant distress in social, work or other areas of your life. Worries can shift from one concern to another and may change with time and age" (1). 

When someone tells me (with good intentions, I presume) that I don't have a real mental illness like schizophrenia or psychosis and that I can get through this, I feel extremely invalidated, misunderstood, and alone. Anxiety disorder, panic disorder, and all other mental illnesses are extremely crippling to live with and should never be ranked in order of "best to worst" to deal with. This is not helpful nor is it conducive to recovery. 

Generalized anxiety disorder is a complex illness. It is caused by many factors-- biological, environmental, and psychological. Personally through my work in therapy I have been able to identify the main causes of my anxiety, but I still struggle with it every single day. I am working on managing my symptoms while also trying to re-train my brain.

I'm not saying that those with anxiety disorders should look at themselves as victims and simply just give up and give in to the disorder. Absolutely not. I work every day toward recovery--meditation, journaling, therapy, mindfulness and more. There are ways to manage anxiety but it is TOUGH work and it's not a quick fix. I assume I will struggle with this for the rest of my life because I have struggled with it for 22 years now! That's okay. I'll get through it. But the point is that it is REAL.

And if you don't understand, just understand that you don't understand. Don't say things to your loved one that imply that others have it worse, they need to stop worrying, they should just get up and go, work out, eat better, etc... just don't. I think they are probably well aware that they need to stop worrying and wish they could just kick anxiety out of their brain forever. 

{Check back soon for Part 2: Is Depression a Real Illness?}

References:

(1) http://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/generalized-anxiety-disorder/basics/definition/con-20024562

(2) http://www.health.harvard.edu/staying-healthy/anxiety_and_physical_illness