My Ooey Gooey Romance With Anxiety

Hi all!

I'm back agin. Appreciated the couple of comments that were left on my previous post! They really made my day, so thank you.

For my second post, today I'm going to dive into something that is very near and dear to my heart: anxiety. I've always had anxiety, and I can recall it's negative affects on my life for as long as I can remember. The thing about anxiety is that it's hard to identify in small children, which is why I wasn't actually diagnosed until I was eight or nine. One thing to understand is that everyone experiences anxiety at one point or another in their life. Part of being a human being is having that sense of danger and fear: that flight or fight mode. And from a practical perspective, a certain amount of anxiety is a natural thing. However, for some people, our brains get a little overactive, and we feel a heightened amount of that fear, when there's no real danger.

And so it goes for me. A little background: I started going to therapy when I was eight, then I switched therapists and was diagnosed with OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder) by my psychiatrist when I was nine. My fears and obsessions have shifted over the years, but are mostly related to myself and my body, or "psycho somatic" obsessions. For all intents and purposes of my post today, the developing content of my obsessions is not relevant. I could probably go on and on about my different fears and the ways that I have challenged them over the years, but what good would that do?

There are many misconceptions about OCD and anxiety that need to be addressed. For one, OCD is not the "cute" mental disorder. It's not conveniently neat, and, although I might be, it's not quirky. It's also not a joke. Over the past many years, a certain culture has developed around poking fun at mental illnesses and the symptoms they usually entail. These include such hits as, "Omg dude you just triggered me," or, "She doesn't like when her binder is disorganized: she's so OCD."This such charming banter could perhaps be categorized with "that's so gay" jokes, but I'll save that rant for another time. I've been labeled as too sensitive and butthurt for getting offended by these remarks, but that doesn't necessarily bother me. I know I'm sensitive. In fact, that's part of my OCD.

Once someone told me that I was always talking about my mental illness. I defended the allegation at first, but then thought about it for a while. I realized that that person may have been onto something and that I did talk an unusual amount about my anxiety and depression. This lead to a stream of existential questions. Was I really as "damaged" as I made myself out to be, or was this some sort of self-centered attempt to convince others that I was special? The more I mulled it over, the more I started to spiral down into a world of self-pity. It took me a while to realize that there was nothing flawed about my, let's say, "obsession with obsession," and it made perfect sense. My mental health issues took up a lot of space in my life. I was in therapy 3-5 times a week, not to mention my constant anxiety was pretty much controlling my life.

This is a dumb analogy, I know, but bare with me. Imagine I was one of those really annoying, touchy-flirty theater girls who is constantly doing vocal scales in the bathroom and stretching her butt awkwardly near your face in line at a starbucks. (No offense, theater kids. I was one of you when I was a lot younger) I would probably talk about theater a lot. Why? Because I would be in rehearsal 3-5 times a week, all my friends would be theater nerds, and I'd spend any other "spare time" I had outside of rehearsal running lines. I would talk about theater a lot, because I would spend the majority of my time doing and thinking about it. Similarly it goes with anxiety. No wonder I, without perhaps realizing it, talk so frequently about my anxiety, when it's essentially my extra curricular of choice. (Just kidding. Not "of choice." Who would choose this?)

 And just like a theater kid is in love with theater and would never want to give up their undying dedication to it, I am hesitant to imagine a life where anxiety is not a predominant factor in determining everything I do. After all, anxiety is natural, isn't it? It's that fight or flight mode that's supposed to keep you from doing stupid shit like riding naked on your longboard around your cul-de-sac, or eating a two pint container of Ben and Jerrys right before a hot yoga class.

Now, in no way am I recommending that you let your anxiety become your entire life and let it completely absorb you. What I'm saying is: You're allowed to feel the way you feel. It took me a long time to understand that, and although I still struggle with accepting my thoughts for what they are: thoughts, I try every day to just let myself be. So, to the kid that once told me I was always talking about my mental illness:

I know.
I do.
I know it must get annoying sometimes, and I'm sorry
But that's the way it goes.
And if I'm going to be unapologetically myself,
I am going to do so, anxiety and all.
This is My Ooey Gooey Romance With Anxiety.

I'm sorry that I didn't go as far n depth with this article than I had hoped, but I had lot's of other things going on that unfortunately required my speedy attention. If you took the time to read this,  I really appreciate you and your patience with spelling and grammar errors. Thank you.

Until Next Time,

Shira.