There have been so many times i've wanted to write something on this blog in the last few months, but I just couldn't find the right words to say. I was afraid of all the possible things people might say ' "She's crazy" or "She's just looking for attention". But I think i've come to the point where i'm ready to whisper all the things that have been inside my brain over the last few months. I guess the question then becomes, are you ready to listen?
I get a lot of mixed responses from people when I tell them I've had an anxiety disorder for about as long as I can remember. It ranges from "What? really? I would have never guessed." to "Ahhh, so THAT'S why you do that!". When I was 11 years old, my life changed forever in ways that I cannot even begin to describe. Long story short, I went to see some doctors that diagnosed me with an anxiety disorder, along with ADD (primarily inattentive type, not hyperactive). The doctor's gave us a report of my assessment in 1999, saying that I was also predisposed to having depression, because I had also previously shown signs of it starting from age 9. However, this is not some sob story about my life. Every single neurotic tendency of mine shaped me into who I am today. I have family and friends that love and support me, so I am forced to take these diagnoses with a grain of salt. If I truly was a terrible person, I would have friends that love me as much as they do. This says something about my character. Despite having irrational fears and a serious lack in self-esteem, people love me for me. Though it's really hard for me to accept that, it's the truth. I am loved and have good reasons to be.
The truth about helping myself is a hard lesson for me. Deep down, underneath logic lives a monster inside of me. That monster whispers things like "You are crazy for seeing a therapist" or "You don't deserve to be happy". But even though it is saying these things, it's like a whisper in some other language that only my heart can understand. I don't know why this monster exists, but I need to accept that it's there for a reason - or at least accept that I created it and let it into my soul to protect me. It's like it was once a blanket - soft and fluffy - that shielded me from the world and it's evil. It was comfort. Over time, I grew up, so that blanket tried to morph itself to grow up like me. It sprouted legs and arms; eyes and ears. And although it remained close to my heart, it didn't actually grow with me, it mutated in me. But underneath the scary eyes and the sharp claws is a seed of ultimate comfort, which is why it's so hard to face and defeat this monster who was once my only friend.
I'll admit, i've judged others for not following the preset path for all people my age. But now i'm starting to understand that maybe it's not so important anymore. I am taking this time in my life for growth and correction. I am seeking help. I am enlisting an army to help me fight this boss-monster in me. I have two choices. Fight or run. But there comes a point when running from myself only results in my untimely death. So, it's fight or die. And there are things that I still want to experience. Marriage, kids (someday), finding a career that I love. Seeing different parts of the world. So I am choosing to fight. My arsenal doesn't consist of guns and manpower, but therapy and medication instead. This is where the judgement comes in. But in the end, ignorance will always be fear and shame covered by ego. I am getting help for myself and my future. What are you doing for yourself by labeling me?
Imagine a life without limitations. Money, fear, obligation, social stigma and ignorance don't matter. What would you do? Aren't you worth taking that chance? It's been a long time since I realized this. I feel like i'm only now coming out of a long sleep, where everything was hazy and nightmarish. I feel like i'm thinking clearly, like I'm normal again. Medication holds an enormous amount of power and risk, but for me it holds a huge payoff. For the first time in over a decade, I feel normal. I feel confident, happy, and balanced. And most of all I don't feel crippling anxiety. I am at the bottom of my little hole. I can only progress upward, slowly grasping one brick at a time, pulling myself up and out, leaving behind shame and guilt for not being perfect to my unachievable standards. There have been so many hands along the way to help me up and even though I don't want to accept those hands for fear of getting them dirty, or pulling them down from the sheer weight, they always surprise me. They can pull, too.
