The In-between

You know what I mean. 

Those moments where you're a few days out from your most recent anxiety attack, and from all indications you're on your way to feeling almost normal again.  You can't fully relax, though, because you feel like you have to be cautious.  You have to be vigilant in what you watch on television, what you read, what types of conversations you participate in.  It's the proverbial eggshell you're walking on because you don't want to inadvertently trigger another panic attack, and you're not sure what insignificant word or feeling might bring on the anxiety again. 

That's where I've been since yesterday. After a horrible day-after hangover on Thursday, I woke up with the TGIF feeling, having slept soundly the night before. I decided to get out of the house with my mother, so we spent the day shopping and planning for an upcoming event with my daughters. I was able to converse and laugh with her, yet at the same time I kept the nagging thought that I must be SO careful to prevent another attack. 

I avoided reading the news, I didn't catch up on my guilty pleasure shows Pretty Little Liars and Ravenswood because if there ever were shows to cause anxiety, it's those two.  I focused all of my energy on being lighthearted and relaxed, yet felt the constant threat of a return. A momentarily stressful moment came late in the afternoon, and I almost held my breath in anticipation of the panic that would surely follow.  Fortunately my body didn't betray me, and I was able to force myself to relax and put the stress aside for the remainder of the night. I managed to go to bed at a reasonable hour and enjoyed a full night's sleep interruption-free. 

So today, yet another day out from the attack, I'm feeling more optimistic and cheerful, without having to force it. I'm looking forward to the long weekend with my girls thanks to the late Dr. King, some NFL football tomorrow and the pleasure of a clean house (for the moment). 

Here's to getting past the in-between and back to the normal. Or, normal for me. 

I'm Fine

Those of us who deal with anxiety disorder know the Louis Vuitton collection of baggage that comes with those two seemingly insignificant words.  You know what I'm talking about.  The I'm not really fine but I don't want to try to explain anxiety and panic attacks for the one hundredth time to people who can't/won't understand what I mean, plus it's just better for everyone if I go on and act like all is well then maybe the anxiety will go away act we put on in front of our coworkers, friends, strangers at the grocery store, even our families and spouses. 

Sometimes it's easier than others to push the anxiety, the worry to the back shelf of our minds and focus on the distractions and daily aspects of life. Some days I'm in the middle of a completely perfect day when I suddenly realize that I have not had any anxiety-related thoughts or fears for hours, or even days or weeks.  Those moments fill me with a huge sense of appreciation and thanks to God for the brief vacation from crazy town (this is how I refer to my brain after/during panic attacks because I joke about things as a coping mechanism. Just go with it). 

Other times, especially after a significantly intense attack, I find myself struggling to be social with my family and friends. I contribute to the conversations and genuinely attempt to participate in whatever discussion is going on, but my mind refuses to relinquish the anxious thoughts, the worry, the sense of doom. As a result, my halfhearted efforts are usually noticed by one or more of my family/friends and then I have to pretend I'm tired or have a headache, etc., some believable reason as to why I'm not "my usual self." My usual self being the laid back, humorous goof who generally talks too much. I guess if I were naturally a shy, grumpy person it wouldn't be so difficult to mask the aftereffects of anxiety attacks.  It almost feels like an emotional, physical hangover.  My body still feels the physical responses of the attack, and my emotions are delicately balancing between "okay" and "I just might cry over a Hallmark commercial." It's a difficult act to put on, and today I found myself wondering why I work so hard to hide my anxiety from others. 

I know there is no longer the stigma surrounding anxiety and other mental/emotional disorders that existed just a few years ago. More people are educated about it, and many more people suffer from anxiety disorders now than we can even know. I'm almost positive several of my family members and friends deal with anxiety and/or depression, yet we never discuss it.  Are we afraid people will think we're crazy? Overdramatic? Attention-seekers? Do we think people will look at us differently if they know our secret? 

I've been trying to find ways to explain anxiety to people like my mother, who really makes an effort to understand it but simply cannot get that it's not some switch you can turn off and just "get over it" after a panic attack. She's also adamantly anti-medication about things like anxiety and depression. Then there are others, like my grandmother who is firmly set in her very old-school ways, and trying to explain panic attacks to her is like teaching an elephant to ride a tricycle. Ain't gonna happen. 

I'm sure my friends would be very understanding and supportive, because like me, many of them have family who suffer with similar disorders, and also because I surround myself with people who are open-minded and nonjudgmental.  Despite this, I still refrain from sharing my secret.  Sometimes I feel like logging into Facebook (the ultimate billboard) and just writing "Hey guys, just wanted to let y'all know, I have anxiety disorder.  Sometimes I have panic attacks and sometimes I don't.  For the most part, I'm A-OK.  Just wanted you to know.  Have a great day." Maybe then my friends would jump in with huge amounts of support and encouragement, and some would feel free to share that they, too, have anxiety/depression/etc. and we can all begin to help each other in the way friends should.  However, this is not a John Hughes film and I'm a pessimist (surprise, surprise).  So, for now, I'll just tell you wonderful people out here in Blog Land and dream of a day where Anxious Annies and Normal Neds can live in harmonious peace and support, with no judgment or misconceptions.