The Difference Between Anxiety and Feeling Anxious
I’ve been feeling anxious lately. I started a new job, the kids started school, there are endless forms to fill out, and many things to keep track of. I wake up in the night remembering that the next day is “hat day” and I can’t forget to tell the kids. Or, I worry that I’ll get stuck in traffic and be late to work. My body gets tense and I feel stressed out, sometimes I’m manic as I run around with an endless list in my head while filling the washing machine, boiling pasta for dinner, and yelling out “don’t forget to practice your spelling words!” I get worried when I feel this way. I can’t help but wonder if it’s coming back?
This is not anxiety.
Feeling stressed out, worried, or even a bit manic is not the same thing as living with anxiety (as in, the diagnosed mental health disorder). Yes, these feelings suck but they are manageable, often times circumstantial, and pretty treatable with the right kind of organization and help. They will most likely dissipate or end when interventions are applied. Therefore sleep, thinking clearly, and completing tasks will once again feel doable.
Anxiety is a different beast.
When my kids were ages 2 and 6 months old we were planning to take a trip to NYC to visit a family member. I was extremely sleep deprived, probably had a little leftover post partum depression, and I was drinking quite a bit. While packing for our trip an intrusive thought entered my mind that the city of NYC could sink while we were there.
I started researching sunken cities and read up on sinkholes that had happened over the past couple of years. A house in Florida had sunken while a guy slept in his bed. A big sinkhole occurred in a town not far from where I live. In other words, sinking was possible and thanks to my confirmation bias, very likely to happen to me.
So, I did what any person living with debilitating anxiety would do and I started planning to sink. I developed plans of what I would do, visualized myself holding onto the children, and tried to map out where the highest hill was in NYC. Later, I realized that it was unlikely that the whole city would sink and more likely for my house to sink. So I moved the vacuum cleaner out of the way in our attic entry so that I could get my family up to the top of the house more quickly. Yes, I did that.
I fed the thoughts with booze, sleep deprivation, and social media. And, more than anything, I allowed the thoughts to perseverate, take over, and feed my cells and neurons. Therefore, it wasn’t just the thoughts that were problematic-my body was in a state of trauma. My heart was racing, hands were sweating, and adrenaline was pumping. My whole body felt like the house was sinking even though the sun was shining and I was busy unloading the dishwasher.
It gets worse.
I’m not “crazy” and I knew that it wasn’t normal to be preparing for my house to sink. And so I felt ashamed. I couldn’t share these fears aloud or then my children might be taken from me because I was too unfit to parent or my husband might discover that I’m way more insane than he thought. Not sharing meant that the thoughts remained in my brain and blood. Even when I wasn’t worrying about sinking I was worrying about when I would worry about sinking again.
Anyone reading this who has had severe anxiety with intrusive thoughts knows this cycle. They know their thoughts aren’t real but they still can’t stop them. They know the shame. They know the feelings of fear. They know the pain of how paralyzing this can be. Maybe it’s not sinking or anything irrational at all. Maybe its anxiety about a work presentation or a relationship struggle. Maybe its worry about what other people think. Maybe its fear of social obligations. Whatever it is, it feels all consuming and relentless.
Anxiety is lonely and so when I hear others’ say they have it, I can’t help but feel….well, less alone. That is until I realize that they meant stressed or nervous about an upcoming event or something else circumstantial. It’s why when I see the funny memes that say something like
“me:
anxiety: there’s something wrong
me:what is it?
anxiety: something!”
I laugh because I know exactly what this feels like. But when I’m laying in bed at 3am thinking about something I said to someone two weeks ago, it’s not really that funny. It can feel extremely isolating.
Anxiety isn’t preserved for those who need to be institutionalized. We are everywhere. We are your highest performing execs and your yoga instructors. We are your teachers, bankers, congress women, and policeman. We are your friend, your sister, and your neighbor. Many of us suffer in silence while others are taking steps to get help.
For me, becoming AF, was the first step in ending this misery. The chemicals in alcohol combined with the chemicals in my brain made for a nasty case of anxiety. When I stopped drinking, I had an immediate decrease in intrusive and ruminating thoughts. I then was able to start other things that would help like therapy, meditation, and a strict sleep schedule that only someone who “understands” can appreciate. For me, the pain of living with anxiety outweighed any kind of “sacrifice” that I would have to make. I said I “would do anything” to make it stop and I meant it. But that “rock bottom” didn’t come for years. It’s not easy to start a new mental health regime if you’re worried about your house sinking.
Today I’m on good terms with my anxiety. I can look back at those times and feel relieved that they are no longer a way of life and now just a rare occurrence. I can share to break the stigma so that other people can learn, feel less alone, and understand a bit about this mental illness. I can be that person who understands.
More like this:
