1) Being anxious doesn’t mean we are not grateful for what we have: Many people with anxiety disorders are labeled as pessimists, and in some ways, this is quite understandable. I can tell you first hand that sometimes even I am shocked at the worst case scenarios I will come up with. That being said, when we are not anxious, many of us are extremely optimistic. We love our lives, our jobs, our friends, and truly take time to appreciate the people we get to share those experiences with.
Read MoreShe grabs your shoulders from behind, in a back-hug and shakes you around like a my-sized, standing shake and bake…also how you’re not supposed to shake a newborn baby. “Look at you! You’re amazing!” She says to your reflection that stares from an abandoned and mirrored headboard on the sidewalk that you’re sure has witnessed a night or eighty of raunchy sex. You tell her you may cry because you’re hungry and tears are your undue reaction to low blood sugar. You try not to for the sake of the
Read MoreHello my name is Shannon. Professionals tell me that I suffer from both generalized anxiety disorder and depression. I used to be pretty pissed off about that, until I realized that, “you have a mental illness” is actually code for, “the universe is turning your life into a comedy.” Here’s what that comedy consists of: Panic Attacks: I like to think the way I gulp air and struggle to breathe while I’m experiencing a panic attack is somehow cute and endearing. In my mind, I look like I’m practicing
Read MoreIt began in first grade when the discovery of a substitute teacher greeting the class in the morning distressed me so much that I begged my mother, through snot and salinized skin, to take me home from school. My threshold for the substitute teacher’s performance being less than perfect in mirroring my own teacher’s routine absolutely shattered me. I was sort of a high-strung child, you might declare. Thankfully, years later, there is nothing that warrants this exact reaction from me, except, perhaps, intense moments of hunger. Childhood anxiety is
Read MoreA text I receive far too often: Where are you? Are you dead? I see my home as much as I seem to see sunlight—almost never. I rise early in the morning every day, then return home late on a regular basis. There’s class, or work, or my attempt to be social, or always some reason to be out. This year, I have been trying a new plan of “productivity and proactivity.” My belief has always been that I have the same number of hours in a day as Obama,
Read MoreThis morning, I left my beautiful, intelligent, Android (we’re in a committed relationship) on the counter of a public restroom. Just five minutes later, when I panicked at the emptiness of my pockets, I Usain Bolted back, only to find my phone no longer there. COMMENCE PHYSICAL SPASMS OF TERROR, PROFUSE BACK SWEAT, AND INTERNAL WATERFALL OF TEARS. For the rest of the day, I was forced to go about my daily schedule while feeling completely disconnected from the rest of the world. At one point, I probably convinced myself
Read MoreSitting still for an entire hour—it sounds easy enough. It’s simple to turn off your phone, power down the computer, find a quiet space, and sit. You don’t even do anything—the requirement is to literally do nothing! Almost seems like cheating, right? Right? Recently, I had the opportunity to see for myself just how “easy” it would be. One World Still is an organization with a simple objective: meditate for an hour once a month. No dues or fees are necessary to be part of this event, and no registration is
Read MoreI’m pretty lucky when it comes to dealing with anxiety, because anxiety and I have a fairly straightforward relationship. Whenever I think I’m doing marginally okay, or feeling particularly productive, anxiety pops into my brain and quickly takes the wheel. It doesn’t matter how much I have achieved in my short 24 years of existence, anxiety has this trick that makes those achievements seem insignificant—it likes to remind me that I’m only one of approximately 6 billion humans on a planet floating in a vacuum of infinite space as we
Read MoreEyes open. Shit. I’m alive. What now? Can’t I just lay here until I die? I wish I could do that. Maybe I could do that? What should I do? I’m hungry. Lie back down? Wait. Dog. Piss. Let’s go asshole. Unsteady legs underneath me towards the front door. The first shot shoots up my neck. The coldness of the fear envelopes my world. Not again. Wish I was a dog. Tail fucking wagging. He isn’t scared. You’re stupid. Relax. Breathe. Neighbor door opens. Not going out there. Wait dog.
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