Well, this is a little bit embarassing. As I was getting ready to start this post, I was wondering when the word "anxious" slipped into having a negative connotation and its relationship to anxiety. I went ahead and looked up the definition only to find that this was nothing new. "Anxious" and "excited" were not quite the synonyms I had grown up thinking they were. Maybe my family was simply on to something using those words interchangeably around me, knowing that I was probably always looking forward to things with more apprehension than enthusiasm.
I told my husband my findings over dinner, and we decided a deeper investigation was called for. Yes, Merriam-Webster does have "ardently or earnestly wishing" as its third definition, so then we had to look up "ardently," which means "in an ardent manner." I'm going to let you look "ardent" up on your own, as contrary to what it may appear at this point, I was not setting out to write a grammar lesson post. Instead, let’s talk about anxiety.
We've already had a bit of a spoiler. I am not in a constant state of being excited for what is around the corner. Even if I am looking forward to something, there is certain to be a part of the situation that I have some unease about. Trust me, I will conjure it! Some might say I'm pretty good at it! OK, nobody says that...well, actually, my husband says that. I am excited to go do the thing, while simultaneously imagining several ways it can go sideways. I am so jazzed to see the people, while wondering what they, or worse yet I, might say wrong.
The author and mental health advocate, Emma E. Troyer wrote, "Anxiety is what happens when energy has nowhere to go - so it circles in your chest until you give it direction." How much energy do I have? Is it being routed toward creating these danger signs? How many other signs do I need to direct it more appropriately?
I've been anxious to write this post, wanting it to be done, hoping it will say what I intended when I scribbled notes on various scraps of paper over the past couple of months. That right there is a little piece of how the anxiety shows its playful head in my world. I'd like to create something, but I need it to be perfect, so maybe I will protect mysef from disappointment by not starting the project. Sound familiar to anyone?
My most recent journey to taking a more active role in my mental health looked a little ridiculous. I spent an unacceptable amount of time waking up in the middle of the night unable to fall back to sleep filled with one level of panic or another. My inital tricks were to simply read a book or name all fifty states in alphabetical order, typically drifting off somewhere around Montana. Once things escalated to where I made it to Wyoming, I'd stumble out of bed around 3:00 am and get my weighted blanket. I am not impressed that this seemed like an effective overnight management plan. Then again, I can't say that the daytime staff were doing much better.
Hearing the refrains of "You have to...You need to...You should..." tended to end up feeling like being in a pile of dirty laundry. Lookout for that incoming heavyweight sweatshirt! Did we even know what was on those jeans? If my hair got swiped into my eyes one more time by a flying tshirt, I would likely scream. And it was hot! So how many of those things that people were putting on me, even if trying to be helpful, was I actually expected to do, at what cost and at what return? This much I know is true, going on anti-anxiety meds was more about my well-being than to make myself more palatable to those around me.
When my doctor and I talked about the possibility of her writing a new prescription, I brought up some kind of plan or general thoughts about when I would be able to stop taking the medication. She asked me why I was already thinking about when to stop. The short answer was simple, "Because I don't want to be on them." She did not ask why, luckily, as I still probably can't come up with a decent answer to that. I'm guessing that being concerned about taking anti-anxiety medication was another little piece of the puzzle?
The reality is that I still do not want my refills. I'm taking my stupid daily mental health walks, the vitamin D, the vitamin K to help absorb the D, eating more healthy, doing my silly exercise videos, and trying to do more things that bring me joy. However, I don't think I'm ready yet to walk the tightrope without the net. I am at a place where I know when my intrusive thoughts come, that they are not a reality I need to entertain, but they still just sit there making faces at me. Sometimes I try to push myself outside of my comfort zone, but end up on a different highway with oncoming traffic in my lane.
I am not positive that there was a point here, or if maybe my yarn just got tangled. Maybe it's just the start of a conversation if anybody would like to join me.
