Anxiety

This is a word I have lived with most of my life. Some of my earliest memories include bouts of anxiety. Worrying about the health of my family, something happening while I was in school, the weather, my pets, sickness, danger, the news, friends, you name it, I had anxiety.

Growing up, my parents tried everything to help me. Therapy, guidance, compassion, tough love, nothing truly helped. In elementary school, I got sick every morning, begging my mom to let me stay home. I called home crying because I had separation anxiety. I can’t imagine how that affected my mom and dad at work. I still feel terrible about that. (That’s also a sign of anxiety).

I never went to overnight camp because I could barely get on the bus for day camp without puking. Once there, I enjoyed it, but the anxiety leading up to it was paralyzing. I just worried all the time something would happen to the people I loved while I wasn’t there. (If only cell phones were around then and I could have texted).

Looking back, I feel like apologizing to my mom every day for the stress I must have caused. When I think about the knot in my stomach leading up to the first day of school after summer or a small break, I can almost taste the fear. It’s still fresh in my mind. I’m 47 and I can still taste the fear.

My fear surrounding school never lessened. I lived with it and learned better coping mechanisms as I grew, but anxiety doesn’t disappear, it simply morphs into new aspects of your life.

I find it funny that I went into teaching and am at the school I attended. Why gravitate towards such a difficult time in my life? Why do that every day? Maybe I’m trying to recreate my past? Move past those memories?

I’ve grown up and I’ve matured. I’m no longer that child who worried every moment about things completely out of my control. There are still moments when I walk down the gym hall and remember the fear and panic and sometimes it stops me in my tracks. School memories are powerful.

So why bring this up now? I am an author. I should be talking about my books. I have a new release at the end of the month. Promote. Inspire. Advertise.

So why bring up anxiety?

My last post was in April. Things have been in a tailspin since then.

Yes, we are in a pandemic. Yes, the world is upside down. So much is unknown and up in the air and every time I tried to focus, my old friend reared its ugly head.

I suffer from an anxiety disorder. It’s not new or a surprise, but it has become an issue when it had been dormant.

I haven’t been out of my house much since March. I haven’t been to a restaurant or a grocery store or a drugstore. I have learned to order everything I need and am thankful for the people who are kind enough to shop and deliver and help.

But my anxiety isn’t really Covid related. Anxiety doesn’t work like that. It strikes when things are going well and it creeps up when you give it an opening.

Covid is something I can try to protect myself against and those that I love.

Anxiety is more of a perceived threat, a ‘what if’ that takes over reason. A self deprecating moment that turns into the only voice you hear.

It’s the voice that tells you it’s time to worry because something is always on the horizon. It’s the anger we feel when we know there is nothing to worry about, yet we can’t help it. It’s the worry we get when we forget to worry. How messed up is that? But it’s true. And real.

The past few months have been hard. The worry about reentering the world is real. The discussions around teachers at the end of the summer caused more heartache than I can express and I was at a very low point in my career. I seriously considered quitting the job I have worked my ass off for because I didn’t want to be unnecessarily exposed to a virus that specifically targets people like me. A job I have worked for almost 20 years. A job I love.

In January I started a new MS drug that is a monthly infusion and specifically targets areas of my immune system, causing a potential worst case scenario if I were to contract a virus.

My mother lives with me and she is in her 70’s. Another risk and another worry.

My sister is an essential worker and has not missed a day of work since this crisis began. I worry about her every day and I couldn’t be prouder of all she has done and continues to do.

But anxiety is about the things that aren’t obvious. The things that aren’t in the news.

The possible ‘what if’ scenarios that play in our heads like a record skipping at the beginning of an album. It hasn’t quite started playing the music, but the nagging notes are loud and clear.

Anxiety is real and it’s taken me a long time to come to terms with this aspect of my life and how I can work towards giving myself a break and allowing myself to acknowledge something that is out of my control.

For a type A personality like me, being out of control is the worst. I can face something when I see it and can make a plan. When my dad got sick, I went to every appointment. I had knowledge. I knew what we were facing. I studied and prayed and spent every moment I could staying in the moment when it was clear those moments were going to end.

Still, anxiety wasn’t the issue then. When every moment should scream anxiety, it was silent. When there was a true crisis, it lay dormant.

That’s why it’s so crushing. It comes when you least expect it. It crawls into your life when you are happy and content. It scrapes away at the strength you’ve built and laughs as you melt into the familiar pool of fear.

So what is the point of this post? Why bring this up?

Because I have known you, my readers, for ten years. I have always told you about my struggles and my triumphs and I have shared intimate parts of my life.

This is also a part of me, a huge part of me, and it’s taken me away from updating this blog and sharing my excitement for what’s to come in the next book.

Writing is what keeps me sane. Living in a way through these characters reminds me of what is true and real. I write people who are flawed because we are all flawed. I need to see people who struggle succeeding so I remember there is a chance. Good things do happen even in the midst of despair.

I write because I need to create the relationships that move me. I want to know that others need that, too.

I have another book coming out on October 22 and I am incredibly proud of it. It has more heart and passion than I’ve written in a while and it was born during a time when my life was in turmoil.

I guess I wanted to simply tell you that I’m here and I’m constantly working to be a better version of myself. I accept my anxiety, but I am always learning ways to silence its voice and release its hold on me.

I have been teaching at home and am trying to give my students a normal experience in a very abnormal setting. We need that. They deserve it.

I will continue fighting and if you are fighting anything of your own, I see you. Getting through each minute, each hour, each day is sometimes all we can do. And you know what?

That’s enough.

Let me know how you’re doing. Give me some good news or some struggles. Share what you’re going through.

And get ready for a beautiful and heart wrenching story.