One Panic Attack at a Time

Photo by  Sydney Sims  on  Unsplash I conquered and overcame! If I’m going to be around people I don’t know in a social setting, I take an emergency anxiety pill about half an hour prior to make sure I can handle it. This weekend I was hanging out with a friend, when suddenly someone I didn’t know showed up and was invited in to play Cthulhu Munchkin with us. There was no time for an emergency pill. Now… everyone knows I have a hard time with people. What you may not know, is that I also have a hard time with games. I think it might be my ADHD that makes it hard for me to learn new games, and anxiety keeps me on my toes even with games I already know. I know Munchkin, I’ve been playing it for years, but the fact that I was about to be playing with someone I’d never met had me hiding in the bathroom planning my exit strategy. For once, anxiety gave me the panic attack, and also prevented me from fleeing because of it. I sat there fighting with myself – I kept thinkin

Photo by  Velizar Ivanov  on  Unsplash I’ve suffered from depression for as long as I can remember and have had suicidal thoughts more times than I can count. That’s normal for me. I’m used to that. I know to ask for help when my thoughts start verging on planning. My need to stay alive and well for my children’s sake keeps me in check, and I trust that I’ll ask for help when I need it because of that. When it comes to other people, however, I can’t trust that they’ll ask for help when it gets serious. Too often, the ones that are serious, don’t ask for help because they don’t want to be talked out of it. My first brush with suicide was by a few degrees of separation. In high school, one of my best friends’ brother hung himself in the city park. The rope broke and he’s now paralyzed from the waist down. By that time I’d already started having suicidal thoughts, and this event brought the harsh reality of suicide crashing down on me. I saw what my friend’s family went th

Photo by  Morgan Basham  on  Unsplash When you get into an argument with your significant other, it can sometimes be useful to take a time-out. You take a step back, go to separate rooms, and cool off before revisiting the discussion. The time-out is my hell. I’ve had so many full-blown hyperventilating panic attacks during the time-out. My parents got separated multiple times when I was younger. I think that’s part of the cause for my time-out hell. I would hear them fighting in the middle of the night, I’d hear the front door slam and my dad’s truck drive away, and I wouldn’t know when I’d see him again. A recurring event in my relationships is a complete inability to let the other person walk away during an argument. I’m sure you can imagine that doesn’t usually end well. The second the person says they have to walk away, my heart drops. The world goes fuzzy. I get this feeling – almost like a tingling electric feeling – all over. I think that could be figh

Photo by  Molly Belle  on  Unsplash Today's guest post is from an old friend who wishes to remain anonymous. Be sure to leave lots of positive comments about how brave she is for posting!  Hello Anxiety, my old friend! You've come to reign terror again....and again....and again. Anxiety, as far back as I can remember, has always been present in my life. Kindergarten: I remember separation anxiety when my mom had to drop me off at school and leave me. Sixth grade: I had anxiety about going to sleep away camp with my classmates & the possibility of being outed as a bed-wetter (it was a hormone issue....went to a urologist, got a nose spray, never wet the bed at camp or ever again). Junior high: I had major anxiety about going to school and facing an older bully (looking back, I actually feel sorry for her, not me). 27 years old: I had debilitating postpartum anxiety. My baby was diagnosed with meningitis at a week old and almost died. I was terrified for month

This cat accurately portrays my frustration. Photo by  Borna Bevanda  on  Unsplash Things I’m stressing about this week: ·          A stray cat is trespassing in my house. I can’t find it. What if it brought fleas, or the mange? What if I wake up one morning and it’s staring at me and then eats my face? ·          I made new friends. I like them. That’s fucking terrifying. Now I’m constantly second-guessing my worth, and why anyone would like me. ·          On a related note, I’m really not even good enough for the friends and loved ones I have. I’m a plethora of issues and damage – why would anyone want to be around me, ever? ·          I owe money to the IRS for taxes, and I’m broke. I’m already struggling, and I don’t know what to do. My life is in shambles. ·          I will never make anyone happy. ·          I will let down my family. ·          The world would be better off without me. So, yeah, it’s that kind of a week. Actually, it’s tha

Photo by  Talles Alves  on  Unsplash I once again let anxiety talk me out of doing something I was really looking forward to. Are you as tired of hearing this song as I am? I’ve mentioned how proud I was of myself for talking to the diversity folks about helping out, and going to the meeting for the LGBT kids at work, and telling them I want to help out. So naturally, after looking forward to the first event after doing all this, I chickened out. I sat at my desk all day fighting with myself about it. “It’ll be fine,” I said. “There will be lots of people there, yes, but they want more people – they need lots of support. They’ll be happy that I came.” “They’ll judge you for coming alone,” Anxiety responded. “You’ll be the only one there without a friend. They’ll all look at you.” “But a few of the kids from the club messaged this morning saying they were going. I won’t be alone, they’ll be there,” I argued. “You think those kids want you hanging

Photo by Kat Smith from Pexels I’m a mind-reader… or so Anxiety tries to lead me to believe. If someone says something has come up and they have to cancel our plans, I convince myself (or rather, Anxiety convinces me) that whatever excuse they give is paper-thin, and the real reason is because anything in the world they could possibly come up with would be better than spending any amount of time with me. There is pretty much always a war going on in my head - Anxiety telling me one thing, and my logical mind arguing another. Sometimes Anxiety wins, sometimes logic does. But even when logic wins, Anxiety is there, whispering in my ear, making me question everything. So when I’m excited about plans, and not already finding ways to get out of them (as Anxiety makes me do so often) and the other person cancels, obviously it’s because they’ve realized I’m not worth their time. Obviously they only made plans with me in the first place because they felt sorry for me or h

For years I felt guilty when my queer friends discussed being assaulted for simply being themselves. Sure, I was queer just like them, but to the outside world, I was straight as an arrow. No one judged me for being queer because no one knew. I could “pass”, and I felt ashamed for hiding behind my seemingly heterosexual relationships. That feeling is one of the things that led to me coming out. Coming out was terrifying. I knew a large portion of my family wouldn’t approve. I worried about having problems at work when people found out. There are still a lot of states where you can be fired for your sexual orientation. But how could I not be honest with the world, when my friends were being persecuted and I was hiding in fear? Now, after I’ve come out, I do think some people look at me differently. It could be all in my head (Anxiety is constantly telling me the worst), but I don’t want to stop and find out. My family doesn’t discuss it – and if they don’t read my blog

This is my depressed face. Depression is kicking my ass this week. I’m trying to stay ahead of it. I’m trying to see the positive side of things, keep my head up, stay distracted, but it’s just not working. Yesterday was my first Easter since the split from my husband. We’re doing shared parenting, so we alternate keeping the kids every other week. This is his week, so yesterday was the first Easter that I didn’t get up in the morning, get the kids dressed in their Easter best, take them outside to find their Easter baskets, and hunt for eggs. Really fucking depressing. I did get them for a few hours, though, so it wasn’t all bad. I took them to Easter dinner at my grandparents’ house. They loved the baskets I got for them. I got lots of good hugs from my son. But then I had to take them to my in-law’s house after a few short hours. This was the first time I had seen my in-laws since the separation. That was hard. I cried off and on all day. After dropping the k