Remember when I said I was going to start blogging ally he time again? Remember when that was almost TWO months ago? LOL. But here I am in the Philadelphia Airport waiting for my next flight trying to put my jumbled thoughts down. EDIT: it's now two weeks after that and I am STILL attempting to write.
One of the reasons I like to write as a way to get express my feelings is because I'm really not that great at verbalizing things. I can barely get light hearted jokes from my brain to my mouth without A. laughing uncontrollably before I get to he punchline or B. forgetting exactly where I was supposed to be going with it. I'd rather say nothing than spill everything. Living inside your own head, or inside the virtual walls of the interwebs can be so much better than having to talk things out.
My anxiety works a lot like a roller coaster. I can feel it slowly building up. It starts before it actually starts with grumblings of what's to come - slowly but surely making its way through my body, and then suddenly at the top. I know that drop is coming and I try to talk myself down, but you're already there and there's nowhere else to go. Then it's a whirlwind of massive highs and deep lows, sometimes one right after the other. When it finally winds down it's a peaceful, almost calm feeling of wow that was crazy, but I'm so glad I made it back...then wait for it to repeat.
I always shy away from trying to explain these feelings to anyone for fear that they won't care; they'll think I'm "crazy", that I just need to get it together; most importantly, I know it's hard to understand. Outward I maintain a fairly normal demeanor and try not to let it show when I'm feeling the extremes. It can be hard though, and it can feel lonely. I don't want to bother anyone or be a burden, or a downer. There's also the thought that I really have nothing to be anxious, or depressed about. I'm close with my family, I have good few friends I can trust, my husband is great, my job has turned around and become fulfilling. I have money, food and a roof over my head. So what could I possibly have going on that would make me feel this way?
I've always stopped just short of going to talk to someone and getting
medication to help control it. I always have this fear about ALL
medication (even allergy pills) that it will alter me in someway. The only medication I've ever gone on is birth control, and that caused issues in of itself. Is it
smart? Maybe not. But I have so many skewed views of how anxiety, depression and mental illness are perceived by people, especially the people I find myself surrounded by on a constant basis. I've read a lot of think pieces on depression, anxiety and mental health
lately. The discussion has creeped from the hushed backlogs of highbrow publications to the front page of
Buzzfeed, and with each thing I read I realize I'm not alone, but that there's still a long way to go to make it all seem "normal".
I must give my husband credit where credit is due. He's come to know that I have these peaks and valleys and that it's just a part of me. He does his best to not get upset when I shutdown, and is good at chalking some of my more emotional moments up to my reality rather than dismissing it.
So where exactly am I going with this? I'm not sure. I guess I just had the urge to put this out into the world. I don't want to be afraid anymore. I don't want to keep feeling like the way that I feel is wrong. This is normal, my normal. And while I don't always have anxiety, and sometimes I can carry on a blissful life, I know that it's always looming - and that's ok. Just like the good, the bad is a part of me and that's just fine.
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