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The Exhausting Morning Routine of Someone With Anxiety

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How long does it take you to leave the house in the morning? An hour? Two? Try three hours. Three long hours.

I am the girl who wakes every morning after a sleep addled with nightmares and a constant sense of panic. I wake most mornings fists clenched and panting, like I’ve run a marathon in my sleep. After convincing myself nothing bad happened while I slept, I inevitably burst into tears as I go through every scenario possible in my head. What if, what if, what if. It’s probably an hour later as I force myself to get out of bed.

I am the woman who then flips into robot mode. I make packed lunches and find mislaid shoes. I bustle. I keep myself busy. I fuss like the mother hen. Then the kids leave for school and I sink into the sofa. I flick through Facebook , to Instagram, to Twitter, to Tumblr, back to Facebook. I shut the apps down. Make a drink. Reopen the apps. I fidget. Sometimes I sit on the sofa, unable to move until I have to. My brain tells me I have to shower, I have to get dressed and I have to get moving. But I don’t. I sit there and I flick through apps. I browse through TV channels at the same time. Head constantly working. I time check. I work out exactly how long I have until I have to move.

Then as I relax, I may pick up a book. Or if it’s a good day, I’ll tidy around my messy house. I get engrossed in what I do. Then, panic. The time I’ve set myself to get ready has expired. In my eyes, even though I’m technically early, I’m late. My heart begins to race, my palms get sweaty, sometimes I shake. Other times I get the “creeps” where my nerve endings seem to explode under the skin and I could scratch my skin raw. Don’t panic. Don’t panic. But I do. I throw on clothes, rush to shower, worry I’m going to be late and I’ll let work down even though I’ve never been late in eight years and I’m usually at least 15 minutes early. Being late makes me anxious.

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Leaving the house can be an ordeal. I check my bag at least three times for my keys, my phone, my headphones. I can’t leave the house unless I have my headphones. I’ll check my appearance about 10 times in the mirror even though I dislike what I see and it gets worse with every viewing. I recheck my bag one final time and then I walk outside.

Walking without headphones scares me. I don’t want to talk unless it’s someone I know, in which case I will politely remove one earphone, all the while gripping the phone in my pocket. I hurry to work, head down with music volume as high as it can go until I reach the safety of my workplace. The whole walk I pass strangers and hope they won’t talk about me after I’ve passed by or make fun of me or make a derogatory comment.

I’m exhausted and my day has only just begun.

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How I'm Managing My Anxiety During a Period of Waiting

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Waiting can be hard. Waiting can be especially hard when you experience anxiety.

I live with bipolar disorder and anxiety, and I have difficulties dealing with periods of waiting in my life. Right now, my wife and I are expecting a baby, to be born in March. We are waiting. There is anxiety as we wait. For me, I feel anxiety because I do not know when labor will begin. Our last pregnancy resulted in our son Mateo’s stillbirth. This pregnancy has been wrought with anxiety. First, we were waiting to see if we made it past the first trimester. Then, we waited to hear the results of our first look exam and see if our baby had any chromosomal disorders. We waited to the end of the second trimester to when our son, Pablo became viable. Now, we wait in the last part of the pregnancy for him to be born. Anxiety for me is like a franticness that runs throughout my mind, as I think of every possible scenario, including the worst-case scenario and all the possible solutions to any given problem. The worst part about the anxiety I experience is the unknown, which can happen continually when you are waiting for something. Time seems to move painfully slow, but my mind races painfully fast. I feel restless, irritable, and have problems concentrating.

So how have I managed my anxiety in waiting? During this season in life, our pregnancy, I have managed the anxiety in waiting through several different approaches.

The first thing I did was try to have things to do each day. Being disabled and not working has its challenges when it comes to staying busy; however, I found many free, healthy activities to do during this pregnancy. I went to the public library often and started a bookclub in our neighborhood. Reading helped me focus and escape my reality of anxiety through stories, characters and faraway places. It was fun. I also continued to exercise by taking walks at the neighborhood park. I learned to crochet and started making a scarf, which I finished on Christmas Eve and gave as a gift. I played boardgames we own. I blogged about my anxiety, about my waiting, and reached out to others when it seemed overwhelming.

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Prayer is another way in which I battled my anxiety during this period of waiting. I found through prayer I was able to let go of a lot of my anxieties and give it to God. If you’re not religious, I recommend meditation or yoga. Through prayer, I focused on things within my control and tried to let go of all the rest that wasn’t.

Waiting while living with anxiety can be hard, but it is manageable.

The best advice I can give when your anxiety is through the roof and you’re waiting for something is to breathe, let go of things outside of your control, and live in the present moment. Be mindful, pray, and enjoy things and people around you. Practice simple acts of self-care. Also be sure to take care of your basic needs, like eating regularly, practicing good sleep habits and exercising. Life will go where it will, and it will happen when it’s supposed to happen. I have to remind myself of this as I wait to meet my son.

Image via Thinkstock.

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When a Simple Question Can Bring on a Spiral of Anxiety

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It all starts with a question. Doesn’t have to be anything specific — just something big enough to send you spiraling. Like for instance, when someone wants to video chat with you. Or when a loved one asks what you want for dinner. Or when a stranger approaches you to ask for directions. Or when your boss asks if you can handle the pressure and you’re smiling but inside is chaos.

It’s like all of a sudden you’re lost in the middle of the ocean in the middle of a hurricane and you aren’t quite sinking but every now and then your head dips just enough under water to remind you death could happen at any time. Except in everyday life these questions don’t usually cause death – or any harm for that matter. Usually a person would just answer the question, but suddenly it’s like someone just asked you to give them the meaning of life at gunpoint.

I think in some way, wires got crossed in our brains and suddenly they think answering these questions is life or death. Suddenly saying whether or not you want steak is like telling a bank robber you can’t give them what they want.

Unfortunately I don’t have a solution for these situations – but I think it’s important to know you’re not alone. We’re not alone. There are others out there who can relate, and maybe you don’t know them but they understand.

We understand.

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Thinkstock photo by Transfuchsian

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3 Things I Learned About Post-Graduation Anxiety

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In a June 2016 article by Sarah Schuster, she describes what it means to have “high-functioning” anxiety. People related to it instantly. I am one of those people. I skated through college as an over-achiever. I was involved with the student government, the newspaper, did research, wrote a book, and the list goes on and on. But what happens when your high-achieving college years dissipate and you must join the real world?

A growing amount of researchers are starting to see what can be described as “post-graduation depression.” With growing underemployment, questions about the affordability of healthcare, and a lack of companies guaranteeing benefits, many people are entering the workforce unsure of their direction.

I graduated from college in May of 2015, and the next morning I was on my way to Florida to start an unpaid internship with a mental health nonprofit called To Write Love on Her Arms. I quickly became immersed in the culture, looking for that next big thing to attach myself to in the absence of my college busywork. My anxiety needed the high that came with new challenges and feeling as if I were more important than I am. In the next few months, I started an online literary magazine with friends, joined a junior board for a sexual assault awareness nonprofit, and began trying to write a book on my experiences with mental health. I plunged myself into work that I felt was “noble,” and people affirmed me.

I spent the next year in Florida volunteering here and there with To Write Love on Her Arms and working full-time as an AmeriCorps college readiness coach. By the following summer, my AmeriCorps year was ending, a job I needed fell through, the magazine folded, and I was left to run back home with my tale between my legs. My anxiety rocked up to a previously unreached level. I doubted my abilities. I doubted my worth. I doubted my experience.

During the last six months, while working to get back on my feet, I have learned three things about my post-graduation self and combatting my anxiety:

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1) My worth is not measured by the number of tasks I do or do not complete.

2) The perfect job takes a lot of preparation to get; otherwise everyone would have one.

3) Patience really is a virtue.

Throughout the last six months, I’ve had to learn hard lessons about my identity, oftentimes tearing down parts of my identity that weren’t healthy or weren’t constructive. This includes pushing back against my anxiety. After the magazine folded, my roommates sat me down and reassured me my self-worth was not measured by the magazine’s success. While it took me months to fully embrace the idea, they were right. The hardest part to accept about being a creative is that you are going to fail more than you succeed. However, your successes will be so much larger than your failures will be. If you keep your confidence, you will usually fail up.

I also had to learn that having a good job, one that pays well and gives benefits, is difficult to find. The people who in their early-20s do have these jobs are the outliers, not the norm. I am still looking for that perfect job, but it doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the job I have now.

The hardest lesson I’ve had to embrace is that the old saying “patience is a virtue” is actually true! For somebody with “high-functioning” anxiety, the phrase was never conducive of what I wanted to accomplish. It was better left in a kitchen drawer, left beside other tools I would never use. However, sometimes allowing yourself to slow down, sit down, and daydream is the best way to cope with anxiety. Pushing yourself to just give a few minutes a day to think is the best remedy for a busy mind. I also know when I decide to launch the next big project, I will be prepared because I have given myself the patience to research thoroughly and slow down my need to impress and achieve. The next project won’t be simply about achieving but doing good for the world.

Let me be clear. I still struggle with my anxiety. I still overcomplicate my schedule and take on too much, and sometimes I break down. However, I’m learning my limits. I’m learning when to take my foot off the gas. I’m learning the accelerator isn’t always the best option. Sometimes, self-care in the middle of a project is the best option. You must give yourself grace and have a moment of courage and do what is best for your health. Most importantly, make sure you don’t get caught up in the rat race, or if you do, make sure you control the terms. That is the true way to succeed in your early 20s.

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Thinkstock image by kieferpix

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People With Anxiety Share Their Biggest Fears

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People in The Mighty’s mental health community who live with anxiety disorders share their biggest or most irrational fear.

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The Different Forms My Anxiety Takes

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My anxiety comes in two forms. It used to be three, but I’ll come back to that.

There is the slow build. The always-there, low-level panic that feels like there are little gnomes living inside of my chest that have chains wrapped around my lungs and are pulling them ever tighter. It can last for hours and never really gets any better or worse. It just pulls me down and makes me want to curl up into a ball and wait for it to go away.

Then there’s the panic attack. And by “attack” I mean it feels like someone has punched me with a metal hand – fist straight through the rib cage, squeezing my heart. Squeezing and pulling out from between my lungs that no longer work. My lungs no longer draw air and my heart no longer pumps blood and I’m getting dizzy and it’s going black and I’m going to pass out and wake up heartless, breathless and inside a hospital.

This is something that has never happened and never will happen. It used to be a serious, serious fear but now I’m very aware it’s not going to happen. But it hasn’t made the panic attacks any easier, let me tell you.

The third type of anxiety I used to struggle with is the complete and utter breakdown of all my brain and body. Violently rocking back and forth and kicking things and being completely unable to think of anything, anything at all except for more kicking, more rocking, more mental screaming until it stops and we’re back to the punch in the chest or the gnomes or some crying.

Sometimes the two — or three — forms connect or blend together, going from one to the other. I feel the gnomes, pulling those heavy metal chains ever tighter inside my chest and I’m anticipating the fist any minute now. There is nothing I can do to stop it. And often the fist in my chest is removed and my heart and lungs return to working again, the gnomes holding it all together too tightly for the rest of the day. The day that has effectively been ruined because a fist in the chest is really hard to get over and the gnomes never, ever give up.

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I’m telling you this because this is how I feel right now. Right before bedtime. I take medication but still here I am, waiting for the metal fist to the chest.

Follow this journey on Weird and Important.

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