Hey…so, as you may have guessed, I’ve never had a blog before. It’s never been something that appealed to me, but at the same time I think there’s a certain magic to near-complete anonymity coupled with complete openness. I’m going to share with you what I deal with on a near daily basis, because I think it’ll be therapeutic for me, but I hope that if someone stumbled upon this website, maybe they’ll get something out of it too. Some sort of relatable aspect, hopefully.
So maybe you’re wondering what makes my battle with anxiety special? What makes me “different” or “unique”? Well, nothing really. Maybe how I got here? But at the end of the day, anxiety is the same monster anyone else who has it deals with. And anxiety’s best friend is depression. Now, my hope is that this doesn’t just turn into some sort of self-deprecating site where all I do is complain about my situation, but bear with me, because sometimes it may just be. The whole point is for me to get better. I want to get better. I need to. Not just for me, but for everyone I care about, because otherwise this will forever be something that gets into bed with me and my husband or plays with me and my children, etc. You get the point.
I guess I could give you some background into who I am, but honestly, I don’t think it really matters. I could be the most average person you’ve ever heard of or an A-list celebrity, either way, we’ve all got the same shit to deal with. Okay, I think I’ve probably really pronounced that idea by this point. You get it. I’ll stop.
So, what’s my anxiety like? Well, it’s always there in my head. It’s not a voice, but rather an implementer of some kind, something that pushes for one thought over an other in a way that makes me think, “hey, that’s not a bad idea.” It’s the reason I’ll endlessly look up any symptom I have whether or not it’s an actual ailment. Seriously. Random muscle twitch not due to exercise? *Google search: muscle twitch reason* and out comes the 99.99% “you’re not dying and you’re just stressed and probably are having a symptom of anxiety,” but this is never satisfying enough for me. I keep digging just to be 100% sure. Then BAM. That .01% search result I was secretly looking for (and rather sadistically hoping for) pops up: “may be an early indication of Parkinson’s disease.” FREEZE. In this moment, it feels as if my heart stops and the world centers in on this moment of me reading. Parkinson’s. PARKINSON’S. PARKINSON’S! And that’s how it’s done, folks. Now, do I suddenly believe I have Parkinson’s? No, absolutely not. Whether or not you can believe it, I still have some wits about me. I know I don’t have Parkinson’s. All signs point to no! But why can’t I shake the dread? The unshakable feeling that there’s something hopelessly wrong with me? Well, I think we can all answer that one.
And so, I continue to just struggle uncontrollably with this horrible feeling that there is something deeply wrong with me early-20s-year-old self. Am I the picture of health? No. Not at all. I’m considered obese by any way you measure it. Do I look obese? Meh, honestly I hope not. But, well, there’s no denying facts. Everyone has different fat distributions and mine just happens to land solely in my stomach. Got some normal size legs and arms, an aggressively average set of boobs, and no ass. But what probably amounts to at least 60lbs in my stomach region. Oh — look at that — I’ve gone off on a tangent. Okay, the point of all this is that I am definitely at-risk for some health issues, but let’s be real right now: most health issues don’t REALLY kick in until your 40s and 50s, MAYBE 30s. I don’t eat completely poorly, so I’m not currently “at-risk” for things like diabetes or high blood pressure, but still. The point is that I can still have issues. And I do, but super average things. Infections and the like. Anyway, after all this I can safely say that I diagnose myself with a million things that are never wrong with me and I can never shake that.
I think, though, the worst part is going to the doctor, waiting, hoping, praying, that it’s nothing. Then I see the doctor. And they say it’s nothing. Then suddenly the symptom kicks up to 500% stronger than ever before and I practically want to scream and say IT CAN’T BE NOTHING, LOOK AT HOW HORRIBLE IT IS MAKING ME FEEL! But the doctor just says, don’t worry, you’re fine. And if they do find something, a simpler solution, like say, my most recent ailment, an ear infection, I become convinced it’s a million times worse. Currently, I’m worrying endlessly about whether or not I have tinnitus while I wait to see a specialist on the 31st. Even though I have been told more than once that it’s just an ear infection. Yes, I got a second opinion. Don’t judge me. Judge my hypochondriac ways. So even though I’ve got a treatment and an answer, I still want to see an ENT specialist to make super-duper sure there’s nothing wrong with me besides my desperate need for anxiety treatment. And I also worry endlessly about whether the medication will work and whether it’s good for me or not. Because if I don’t actually have an ear infection, will it negatively affect me? Who can say! I’m fed up. I really am.
And it all just drives me up the fucking wall. Do I need to see a psychiatrist? Oh, without a doubt. I have a therapist. If you have anxiety, please, please see a therapist! You cannot cope on your own, trust me. Just suck up your pride and visit a therapist. I cannot tell you how much I told myself I could get through my anxiety and deal with it. It was horrible advice to give myself, because here I am, almost 2 years later, still suffering. And it’s only getting worse. I was never a hypochondriac. Not until late last year. It all gets less and less tolerable, less and less manageable. Yes, I’ve since reached out to a few psychiatric offices in the hopes of getting on an anxiety medication. It’d be a huge relief to finally say goodbye to anxiety and feel okay. I just want to feel better. I know I’m still here. I know I’m still me. But it just gets harder to be me when I cannot stop worrying.
Someone, please, make it stop.