One Panic Attack at a Time

According to Wikipedia , Imposter Syndrome i s a concept describing individuals who have an inability to internalize their accomplishments and have a persistent fear of being exposed as a fraud. That is sooo me. I’ve always written it off as low self-esteem and anxiety, which definitely does play a part in it. But in the last few years I’ve found myself arguing with people – whether it be verbally or in my head – about my accomplishments, skills, or even my personality. My ex used to point out how funny I am and that it’s part of why everyone likes me. I would argue “ Um, no, everyone does not like me. They’re just being nice.” He would disagree. I would say “ Well I’m not that funny, they’re just laughing at my jokes so my feelings aren’t hurt.” I could tell you how awful I am for hours – I have a billion examples. What it boils down to is Imposter Syndrome. I’m terrified people will discover the stupid, bland, nobody that I truly am. I’m especially s

Photo by  Matthew Henry  on  Unsplash My panic attacks most often present with uncontrollable crying and a sense of unease that won’t go away. These are the small ones, nothing to write home about, they happen pretty frequently. It’s annoying. I’m having one of those days. I have a hefty case of depression weighing on me, so that doesn’t help. It’s 12:30 in the afternoon and my eye makeup is already almost completely gone, washed away by tears that periodically come for no apparent reason. Yes, I’m going through a rough time in my personal life, but I’m at work – working on work stuff – not even thinking about the personal life stuff. My face doesn’t seem to care, though, because the waterworks keep happening regardless. Ugh. That’s the annoying thing about anxiety. People tend to associate it with specific events. Your loved one is ill, you have anxiety. Your car is on its last leg, you have anxiety. Kids at school are bullying you, you have anxiety. Your girlf

Anxiety is throwing away your happiness because you can’t breathe without your children, and your ex manipulating you into coming back, because Anxiety says there’s no other way you can be near them. Having Anxiety whisper in your ear that you’ll never be happy, that you’re a bad mother, and that the abuse you’ve been put through will never end no matter what you do...well, those whispers can be enough to tear anyone down. What I’m not saying is that I’m not the only one Anxiety whispers to: I was dumped for the abusive ex, and mental illness is saturated into the whole situation on all sides. Mental illness is a fucking dick. Naturally, now Anxiety is coming at me pretty hard, and Depression is knocking at my door asking to come in. I locked the door - we'll see how long that’ll keep Depression out, but Anxiety will not be deterred. Anxiety comes in through the pipes like the Pennywise/blood geyser scene in It . At first I was just pissed. Nothing makes me an

I have been called out on my tendency to bail on plans twice in the past week. A good friend had a small get-together for me for my birthday, and he mentioned he was afraid I wouldn’t show up. That broke my heart. It was only three of us, but he made cupcakes (queercakes, as he called them), had sushi and wine, and made witty birthday signs that he hung throughout his house. He is such a great friend and I’m so thankful for him. So when he mentioned how busy I am and said he was afraid I wouldn’t show up, I felt horrible. Do I really do that to my friends who care for me? Yep. Yep I do. And it’s not because I’m busy, or I don’t appreciate them, or I don’t want to see them. It’s because of anxiety. For instance – I really did think about canceling that day. Nothing new, canceling crosses my mind every single time I make plans with someone. I think I’m going to go out there, and I’m going to have fun! Anxiety be damned!   And then as it gets closer to act

I went to see an LP concert in Nashville last weekend. If you haven’t heard of LP, I highly recommend you look her up. My favorite song is Tightrope. Here, I'll post it so you can watch. I’ll wait. So good, amirite?! I’ve been looking forward to this concert for months. I first fell in love with LP’s distinctive voice about 12 years ago at a little bar in Kentucky. A friend’s band was opening up for her and he warned me that LP tends to be loud. He was so right. She’s loud and fucking amazing. When this short, skinny thing with unruly curly hair first came out on the stage there were whispers of “Is that a girl or a boy?” Man, when she starts to sing, there’s no question. Her voice has so much range and it’s just so damn unique. I followed her website and saw her a handful of times in local bars. She once signed a poster for me that said something along the lines of “I like your boobs” – a joke that my then-boyfriend put her up to. There came news that she signed with

Yesterday I went to a National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI) support group meeting. I went to support someone dear to me who has been recently diagnosed with mental illness. I honestly didn’t think I’d get anything out of the meeting. I’ve been dealing with mental health issues for quite a while. I’ve done loads of research, taken a variety of medications, seen therapists, talked to friends who also struggle with mental health conditions… I figured there’s nothing they can say that will be helpful to me because I’m already a self-proclaimed expert. I was so wrong. When we arrived (ten minutes late, which already had me slightly anxious) I had a mild panic attack walking through the door. The small room was full. There was a circle of about 20 people sitting in chairs, with only one chair open. My heart started racing and the room seemed to shrink before my eyes. I went with three people – my security blanket. There was only one free chair. Chances were, I was g

Photo by  Nathan Dumlao  on  Unsplash It’s my birthday week! My birthday is the one time in the whole year I don’t mind being the center of attention. Naturally, it’s also when I have the most anxiety. I want to have a party with all of my friends. My home isn’t big enough for that, so I want to go out. The best time to get all of my friends together is a Friday or Saturday night. Most places where we would go out either don’t reserve space on Friday and Saturday nights, or they charge a hefty sum to do so. So, first I’ll be anxious about arriving early enough to secure space for everyone. Then I’ll be anxious about everyone showing up. Wouldn’t want to offend the staff by taking up more space than I need! Then I’ll be anxious about more people showing up than I planned for, and not having enough space for everyone. Then I’ll be anxious about making sure to talk to all of my guests, not wanting anyone to feel left out. Why do I want to go out again? Oh, that’s

Photo by  Jordan Whitt  on  Unsplash I’m pretty sure every parent feels like they’re screwing up their kids at one point or another. With Generalized Anxiety Disorder, I pretty much always feel this way. Every time I say this there are a dozen people who assure me that it’s not the case, and they often feel the same way.  “Often.” I’ve passed my anxiety issues on to my children. It’s the gift that keeps on giving! My son will probably end up being diagnosed with GAD like me. The poor kid is just like me, as far as anxiety goes – severe social anxiety, always worried about what others are thinking, doesn’t handle rejection well, and he’s pretty much terrified of life. Not a day goes by that I don’t feel massive guilt for the crappy genes I have passed on to my son. He even inherited my practically transparent skin. Poor kid. How do you help a 6-year-old with social anxiety? You sign them up for extracurriculars! You encourage them to be around other kids so they form relations

Photo by  Kat Love  on  Unsplash Ladies and Gentlemen!  For your viewing pleasure, I present to you a list of things I’ve been anxious about today: The teacher emailed me about how well my daughter is doing in class on her new medication. Anxiety told me I’m a bad mother because I didn’t get her on the medication sooner . I spent a solid half hour analyzing how the past month could have been different, had I done so. When I went to lunch, the seats I usually sit in were taken. I had a moment of panic because Anxiety pointed out how difficult it might be to maneuver through the room full of tables with my chubby body and huge purse. I found a table that suited my needs and realized I’d left my tablet at my desk. There was no way I was going to abandon the table I’d secured to go back for the tablet. What if someone took the table, and then I was forced to go to the middle of the room, running into chairs with my ass and hitting people in the head with my purse?!