What I Need as a Person With Anxiety, but I'm Afraid to Ask For

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I take my medication and go to sleep. I wake up every morning knowing I’m going to worry.

Yes, it is a part of my daily life and it is not the most enjoyable thing, but I don’t need pity and I personally don’t need to be defined by my anxiety. Most of the time I am too afraid to tell my loved ones what I need from them, but all I need is support and a listening ear. I don’t need you to rid me of my anxiety. I don’t need you to feel bad for me. I need someone to try and understand me.

I freak out sometimes and by sometimes, I mean a lot. I want my friends to know I know my thoughts are irrational. I know I’m overreacting and because of that, I feel like a burden to you. When you ask me what I need, I will always say nothing because I assume you are just trying to be nice and I do not want to bother you. When you ask me to let you know if I need your help, I’m never going to reach out because I do not want to bother you. When you try to assure me you are always there for me, I will still hold in my emotions because I do not want to bother you. I do not want you to be annoyed by me and every time I apologize for annoying you, I feel like I am just annoying you more. This is the negative thought cycle my anxiety provides me with. This turns into me isolating myself, which turns in to depression. It’s truly a vicious cycle and I wish I felt comfortable reaching out to you. I don’t know why I don’t. You try and I try, but I do not want to bother you.

If I could tell all my friends what I truly need, this is what I would say. I need you to be the one to reach out sometimes. It doesn’t have to be daily, but just ask me how I am doing every so often. This will take some pressure off me and make me feel like less of a nuisance. When you do reach out, I do not need you to find a solution. I just hope you can be there to support me and listen to me without judgment. Sometimes I will tell you the “craziest” worries, but please don’t treat me like I’m “crazy.” I put myself down enough. Sometimes I won’t tell you anything I’m feeling because I’m too afraid. Please don’t get too frustrated. I am more than frustrated that this is the way my brain works, but I’m doing my best.

Please know this is only a part of me and the best thing you could do is reach out to me every once in a while. If you don’t, that’s OK too — I don’t want to bother you.

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Thinkstock photo via dragana991

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Redefining My Anxiety in the Age of Trump

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Since November, I’ve been dreading a Trump presidency. Since Inauguration Day, I’ve dreaded every day of it. But as a person living with an anxiety disorder, I’m used to dread. I’m used to fear of the unknown. The thing that makes this so different is it’s real and palpable in a way my anxiety usually isn’t. Here, the dread and anxiety are over tangible and concrete actions beyond my control that affect my life and the lives of millions of others  —  some of whom I know and love, others I don’t know at all.

Normally, the things I have anxiety over aren’t a matter of life or death, freedom or restriction, peace or war, or love or hate. They are everyday occurrences, social interactions, the send button on an e-mail, or locking the door to my apartment  —  all of which seem trivial right about now.

One of the main rules you learn in therapy is to accept the things you can’t control and realize most of your anxiety is controllable  —  by you because you are the one with the power, not your anxiety. But that rule doesn’t necessarily apply to a presidency.

Every day I find something I dread more than the next. The Dakota Access Pipeline. The travel ban for Muslim-majority countries. Chemical pollution of waterways. The deconstruction of the Affordable Care Act. The list goes on and on and on. For many, the realization that the majority of the next four years will be like this is just now settling in. The fact that I, as an individual, have little impact to chart any part of the next four years has settled. And I’m fearful. I am so full of dread. I am so full of sadness. I feel I am at a loss.

This era is a new chapter of my life. I am having to redefine my anxiety in the age of Trump. I’m both struggling and, in many ways, succeeding in finding small, concrete things I do have control over and using them to reach sturdier ground and help others if possible. I’m standing firm in my opinions. I’m donating money when I can. I am sharing information. I am joining the masses in the streets. I am talking to friends and strangers. I am telling people I love them more often.

I’ve made so many strides in my anxiety in the last five years or so that to let myself be sunk by Donald Trump would be a tragedy I refuse to allow a stage to play out.

There are many others in my same position. I know I’m not alone, and I hope they know they aren’t either. As we redefine anxiety in the age of Trump, let’s remember that individual human agency is a powerful thing. Power doesn’t always come in pop and circumstance. Sometimes, it’s in the small, almost hidden things we say and do every day.

Editor’s note: This story reflects an individual’s experience and is not an endorsement from The Mighty. We believe in sharing a variety of perspectives from our community.

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How a Neck Injury Taught Me Mental and Physical Pain Are Interconnected

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Editor’s note: Please see a doctor before starting or stopping a medication.

“Your body hears everything the mind says.” — Naomi Judd

Does your mental health ever spiral as you experience physical ailments? Mine has. And I never quite understood the depth and powerful reality of the mind-body connection before. As someone with anxiety, when things happen to me that I feel no control over, my anxiety goes wild.

A few weeks ago, I injured my neck skiing and then sleeping in different beds while traveling intensified the pain. The neck pain was then exacerbated by a constant headache and ringing in my ear. The pain remained and no amount of Ibuprofen helped. I went to my doctor, the chiropractor, had a massage, rubbed topical analgesics on my neck and there was little to no relief. I was desperate for relief. I couldn’t sleep, I was crying from the pain by the end of the day. I couldn’t imagine how to live like this and I began to think about not living.

Because many pain medications I took were depressants, they made me go down, far down, hard and fast. And when I was down, I started numbing and mixing drugs with alcohol. And I kept taking whatever I could that offered temporary pain relief, stuck in the cycle of physical anguish fueling mental anguish which fueled the physical and around and around I went. And then, in that down place, I stopped being able to keep track of any medications, including my mood stabilizers. And the insidious dark thoughts started to consume me. I had no idea what to do.

And in the most remarkable coincidence, a friend invited me over for a coloring and conversation night. My friend is a physical therapist who specializes in head and neck pain. I spilled out my story and the terrible acute pain I had been struggling with for over three weeks at that point and she was more than willing to take a look. I laid down and she began working on the knots and analyzing the pain and as she worked on me, she also worked with my mind. She guided me through a visualization where I was to imagine my neck as a frozen steak and with every stroke of heat from her hands was defrosting the meat, making it softer and more malleable with each pass, relieving that pain. She worked for about 30 minutes and came again a few days later and I still can’t believe the improvement I’ve experienced without any medication.

I got back on track with my own meds, gave up those that were not mine and I’d like to say I learned my lesson. I’m still working on focusing my mind in positive ways to help manage my physical pain. I am so thankful for a trusted friend to help guide me through the depths of my pain and darkness, without judgment. She helped me see and learn what I could not on my own.

I never fully understood the power of the mind-body connection, but now I fully believe in it. I’m fully open to learning more and practicing. I’m fully open to healing – mind and body. I am not healed, but I am healing and for that I am grateful.

“The body achieves what the mind believes.”

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When a Teacher Dismissed My Anxiety Because It's Not Diagnosed

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I have anxiety. I struggle just to get through every day. Not very many people know about it — I’ve only told a few very close friends. My family does not know. Therefore, I’ve never been to the doctor to get it officially diagnosed.

I have difficulties doing schoolwork. As a top academic student, I put an unhealthy amount of pressure on myself to keep my marks up. For me, anything under a 97 percent is not good enough. Sometimes, I get panic attacks before doing tests or assignments.

Our new semester just began. One of my teachers seemed to be open and accepting of anxiety issues and such. He invited anyone who had anxiety surrounding tests, assignments, presentations, etc., to come talk to him so he could make alternate arrangements.

I was thrilled. I could talk to him! He would understand and not judge me! But then he said it: “Anything diagnosed, of course. Self-diagnosed, well, there’s not much I can do there.”

My heart dropped to the floor. It was a last period on a Friday. That entire weekend, I could barely get myself out of bed. I worried all weekend about whether the few people who knew about my anxiety thought I was making it up for attention. I worried about whether or not I actually was making it up for attention. I spent three hours reading over articles that Sunday night. And I realized I am valid. My anxiety is valid even though it is not professionally diagnosed. My feelings are valid. I do not need anyone else to validate the way I am feeling.

I won’t go and talk to that teacher. I’ll get along like I always have. But I hope someday he’ll realize that the lack of a doctor’s diagnosis does not disprove anxiety.

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5 Things That Help Me Feel Supported as a Parent With Anxiety

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Living with anxiety on a daily basis can be challenging for many of us. But when we have children, it becomes “next-level” to manage our own symptoms alongside the duties of parenting — especially if we think we should have it all together, all the time.

People with anxiety can and do make wonderful parents. It just means we need to be aware of it and learn to prioritize self-care.

On my lifelong path to well-being, I’ve found tools that provide me with support as someone with anxiety. It also helps to know there are others out there, just like me.

1. Establish good professional support.

Parenting is a massive challenge and most of us need help to get through. That’s why finding caring, professional support is paramount on the journey to managing anxiety. A good general practitioner and therapist can make all the difference in the life of a parent with anxiety, because it means we have support to turn to in times of need.

We don’t always know how to get it right, especially in parenting.

A trusted professional can help us manage our challenging thoughts and feelings as they arise, and steer us towards a better story of parenting based on our values. For the well-being of our family, consulting a professional before making any changes to our medication regime also becomes important. It means we are supported and well-informed on our journey. There’s more than one person to take care of now, so it’s important we let go of the reins and get help when we need it. This is a strength, not a weakness.

2. Implement healthy boundaries.

There are many things that change when we become parents — most of all, our priorities.

As we change, it’s important for bosses, partners and our children to understand what we are capable of within our parenting role. One way we can do this is by implementing healthy boundaries. Implementing healthy boundaries can enable others to know what we are and are not capable of doing each day. For example, if we are feeling overwhelmed with anxiety, saying “No” to a request to help others doesn’t make us a bad person. It just means we are putting ourselves first to regain better health, which can only benefit our family.

Implementing healthy boundaries is about communicating with others and being open to nurturing our own needs. Rather than pushing them aside, we can lean into our needs. If we need help with identifying and establishing our boundaries, a good therapist can help. Knowing what we value most helps saying “No” a bit easier.

3. Ask for help.

Many of us with anxiety have become good at pretending we’re OK when we’re actually not. Asking for help can alleviate the load and remind us, “It’s not all up to me.” This could mean asking another parent from school to collect our child once a week, so we can go to the gym and run off some stress. Or perhaps ask a friend to cook a double batch of her awesome lasagna to keep in the freezer for those nights when there’s no mojo left to cook dinner.

Asking for help allows others to give back to us — and we all know how good it feels to give from the heart. It’s an important skill to learn, and I believe our children can benefit from knowing we can’t always be everything for everyone else. I believe asking for help can enrich our children’s lives with variety and compassion from others around them.

4. Establish a daily self-care ritual.

Self-care will look different at many times during our parenting journey. Some of us intuitively know what is good for us because it feels like a positive relief when we engage in it. Self-care is a way of managing anxiety through a proactive lens. Rather than putting out our internal fires as we experience them, establishing a regular self-care routine reminds us that we matter and our needs are just as important as the needs of our family.

These rituals don’t need to be huge, but they are something we need to practice to fill us up from the inside out. Whether it be a morning meditation, mindful drawing or an afternoon walk with our dog. With frequency, self-care begins to sink in and becomes a habit. It also helps rewire our brains to enable more self-care to unfold, especially when the going gets tough. Even five minutes a day can be helpful.

5. Tell it how it is.

Some days, no matter what we do, we’re going to have a hard day. Rather than trying to push through beyond exhaustion, it’s important to tell our loved ones what life is like for us in the moment. This means telling our partners, “I’m having a rough day with anxiety symptoms. I may need extra help with the kids today, or attend an extra yoga class tonight to help me destress.”

I personally believe it’s important to discuss our anxiety experience with our kids at a level they can understand, to help them gain an understanding and empathy for others. This might sound like, “Mummy’s feelings are a bit sick in my body today. This means today I might need some extra rest, so I can help my feelings relax.” Whether or not we say anything, our children will pick up on our anxious times. Giving children the language and skills to talk about this helps set them up for emotional resilience and tools to manage their own anxieties as they arise in the future, too.

This list is a work in progress and understandably, there are times when I feel challenged to keep up on my self-care. The key is to get back on the bandwagon as soon as I can, and know I am worthy of doing so — anxiety and all.

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Why Rescuing a Puppy Helped With My Anxiety

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I have struggled with anxiety for 10 years.

As anyone with anxiety knows, some days are good and some days are bad. For me, most of 2016 was bad with my anxiety. I started having semi-regular panic attacks and felt like I could never get my brain to turn off. I had gone through a lot in just a few short months — started dating my boyfriend, began a new job, had to move out of my apartment on short notice, moved in with my new boyfriend (we had only been dating two months at this point), then moved to my own place for five months, then moved back in with my boyfriend. Work had never been busier and my sister’s wedding coincided with an extremely important event I was responsible for planning with work. On top of that, in May of 2016, I experienced the worst panic attack of my life; I got stuck in a large crowd at a concert, tried to elbow my way out of there while panicking, eventually passed out in the middle of the crowd and had to get carried out.

It was a lot to handle and I still get tense at the memory of that panic attack. After that moment, my anxiety was at an all-time high at all times. I found myself sitting in meeting rooms at work, trying to breathe my way out of hyperventilating. Hiding my shakes at the water cooler. Smiling through the endless thoughts of trying to juggle everything my boss was asking me to do. To call it “overwhelming” is an understatement.

But that July, I found the “best medicine” for my anxiety: a 7-month-old puppy we named Lucy. My boyfriend Jason and I had talked about getting a dog for a while, pretty much since we had started dating. So that day in July, we decided we would just go look at the shelters and see what dogs were around. We poked around at two shelters and while I wanted to bring home every dog we saw, Jason didn’t feel like we had found one. We were on our way home and I saw we’d be going by one other place. I asked Jason if we could stop quickly and “just look” — with some hesitation, he agreed.

We walked into the shelter and the receptionist directed us to the dog kennels. When we opened up the door, we could immediately see one kennel and that’s where we saw our girl. She jumped up, tail wagging as soon as she saw us. I thought she was cute but too young. Jason, on the other hand, kept going back to her. Now it was me who was hesitating and eventually agreed we would ask them if we could take her out of the kennel. They took the three of us to a play area where she trotted around with a little puppy smile on her face. I kept saying she was sweet but too young. I was about to eat my words – as soon as I sat down on the ground, that sweet, young pup crawled into my lap and I was done. I felt something right away and I knew we had to bring her home.

And the next day, we did just that.

It didn’t take long until I felt my daily anxiety ease up – I had to concentrate on Lucy and what her needs were, not the millions of thoughts going through my head at one time. My thoughts now became checklists – “Did Lucy go to the bathroom? Check. Did Lucy get her breakfast/dinner? Check. Did Lucy take a long walk around the neighborhood to get some energy out? Check.” Being able to check things off my “Mental Lucy Checklist” made me feel accomplished and distracted me at the same time.

About a month after we brought Lucy home, I had gotten into a big fight with a family member that left me inconsolable, and I began a panic attack. I sat on the armchair in the bedroom, hyperventilating and shaking. Jason, who at the time was still struggling with what he should do when I had a panic attack, stood on the other side of the room, finishing laundry. Lucy, on the other hand, followed me to the chair and was sitting intently watching me, licking my hands and eventually sitting in my lap. I didn’t realize having a little weight like Lucy’s 30-pound body helped me feel stable and eventually I was able to catch my breath again.

A couple of days later, things at work were getting busy, stressful and very tense. I woke up dreading to go to work each day because of the workload I had. I finally forced myself out of bed and started getting dressed – only I couldn’t figure out what to wear. That’s one of the worst parts of my anxiety — making a simple decision like what clothes to wear can make me so anxious, and it sends me into a panic attack. I was sitting on the floor, going through the clothes I was choosing between, getting quickly frustrated. I could suddenly feel my heart rate speed up and before the full panic attack even had a chance, Lucy was in my lap. Just the distraction of her near-perfect leap from the bed into my crisscrossed legs was enough to make me feel calm and even made me giggle at her a little.

Time and time again, Lucy has amazed me with her skills to sense any kind of anxiety from me before I can even realize it. What is even more amazing to me is her ability to keep me calm. She’s still a puppy, just slightly over a year old with no formal therapy or comfort dog training. We haven’t even had her a year and she has bonded with me and Jason in a way that one cannot explain. She can sense our emotions and knows when we need those puppy cuddles. Don’t get me wrong — this silly girl is still a bonafide puppy and loves to tear up her toys, but she will always drop them if she feels we need her.

I will never underestimate the power of animals and I now understand, more than ever, the slogan and the bumper sticker I have seen on cars: “Who rescued who?”

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