Better

I'm scared I'm scared I'm lost I'm scared I'm lost-

"Laura."

I'm scared I'm scared I'm lost I'm-

"Laura!"

I'm scared I'm lost I'm lost AND scared oh no woe is me everything is ruined forever~

I snorted, amused. When the overly-melodramatic part of my brain made fun of itself for being overly-melodramatic, I knew things weren't that bad. This was my first anxiety/panic attack in a while - and the first I had had in front of this cute boy I had been seeing recently. 

"I'm having a panic attack," I told him frankly. "Or maybe it's an anxiety attack, I've never really been able to figure out the two because in a panic attack you're supposed to be worried about something right now like dying or losing control or something where in anxiety you're worried about the future and both really suck but I like panic attacks better because you know they'll end but heightened levels of anxiety can last for a really long time..."

He nodded, smiling a little in the corners of his eyes. I kept rambling.

"See the first thing I have to do is hear my thoughts and know what I'm thinking but I can't hear them, it's like a river, or white noise or static, just too many things too fast all at once, GOD I feel weird."

This was a weird one - it had started with a thick, smothering blanket of unreality, with healthy doses of dizziness, desensitization, and shaking - atypical enough that it had taken me a panicked while to figure out what the fuck was going on. Knowing it was only a panic attack helped - I was scared, but I wasn't lost. Not anymore, not ever again.

"Would it help if I talked for a while?" He asked. "I could tell you about when my mom had a panic...?"

I thought about it, then nodded my assent. He tucked an arm around me - comforting but not constraining - and started talking. I listened, relieved, and my thoughts slowed to a mere torrent. I could work with a torrent.

When his story was done, I told him, "I'm going to talk for a while. Is that okay? I need to identify the thoughts, find the distortions, and contradict them using evidence to the contrary."

He thought for a moment. "Would you like me to answer back to you, or just listen?"

"Just listen." I looked at him and touched the corner of his eye, where a smile still lingered. He wasn't worried that this was happening. More like he was happy to watch me handle it so well. Okay, that's mind reading and another distortion, but whatever the reason, he was an old hat at panic and anxiety. It was awesome to have someone around who was calm... but what was even better was the fact that I still had a grip on myself. Unlike all the other times, I knew what was happening. I could do this.

So I started talking, which sometimes morphed into rambling or ranting, but I kept myself mainly on track. What was I thinking? What was the paradox that formed panic? Where were the absolutes? What was the evidence to the contrary? 

The answers took shape, slowly: I was worried because the new insurance people wouldn't cover my meds; I needed a refill, and if they didn't hash it out with the doctor's in time, I would be going out of town for a whole week without my meds. Cold turkey. What a way to fuck a vacation. That was worth a panic or two, but it wasn't going to happen - worse case, I would just go and pay the $130 for my meds and fuck insurance. Pricey, but worth it. Okay. What else?

Work - I was supposed to be there in six hours but I was panicking and short on sleep already; I wouldn't be functioning in six hours, not well enough to take care of children. They were short on people so I had to go - no, I didn't have to go. I'd be more of a liability, going in like this, and they'd be able to play the numbers game to get it to work. That still made me freak out a bit.

More? Yep. I wasn't at home, and totally didn't trust myself to drive like this. What could I do? Stay the night? I knew I was welcome but I didn't have any contact stuff or any sleep meds, like the ones I had been taking. If I took out my contacts to sleep without solution, I wouldn't be able to drive home in the morning. And in this wound up state, I had a snowball's chance in hell of getting to sleep without any chemical help. Shorting myself on sleep would just make me even more fucked over.

So I talked and I talked until the immediate problems were clear; then I went about solving them. I called into work and said I was sick; I called Mom to let her know I was okay but not going to be home that night. Then the cute boy and I walked Grand Avenue in the witching hour to the 24 hour Super America for Advil PM, a contacts kit, some doughnuts and a pint of ice cream.

We took the ice cream up to the roof and sat under the stars in the middle of a heated discussion about the ego versus the id when discussing the soul, and the lovecraftian idea that hell was to glimpse something beyond the ken of mankind.

Back inside, I fell asleep when he was showing me a beautifully creepy video game called Limbo. I remember rolling over to make room for him beside me, then reaching out to hold his hand - only to find that he was reaching for my hand too.

The Care and Feeding of an Anxious Person

So far, this blog has covered a few rough basics on what it's like to be anxious - or rather, what it's like for ME to be anxious. However, I know a lot of you reading (wow, there are so many of you reading o_O) have an anxious person in your life and would like to know how to help them. Here are some basic, basic tips that can help - feel free to use them or ignore them as seems appropriate to your situation.

So, in no particular order, here are helpful hints on the Care and Feeding of Anxious Persons.

Educate yourself.

This is perhaps the most important thing you can do for the anxious person in your life - go learn. Read books, search the internet, talk to doctors, talk to other anxious people, absorb what you learn. Try to find out specifically what your friend is suffering from - I, for example, have GAD or Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD), which is different from Panic Disorder, which is different from PTSD, which is different from having phobias, which is different from OCD, although all can have the same symptoms.

So go out and learn about what exactly this person you care for is going through. That'll give you a good starting point.

For those with anxiety and/or panic disorders, I love Claire Weeks' Hope and Help for Your Nerves. Claire Weeks wrote this book in the 1970s - there are no fancy, convoluted terms or theories. I don't think she ever mentions the word "anxiety." But her simple, kind, no-nonsense approach leads you step by step through the horrible unknowns of panic and anxiety. It's written in short, concise chapters, specifically for someone who is as wound as a top. It's also really awesome for friends and family too!

Be supportive

Don't only ask, "What can I do to help?" but more concrete offers too. "Wanna come over for pizza?," if your friend has trouble cooking, or "Wanna hang out on Saturday?" if you know they have trouble being alone. Be there. Be patient. Try not to be offended if the person says no or doesn't return your calls - they're lost in their own, personal nightmare. They do hear you, though. It does help.

Anxious People are Human Too

Don't treat them like an invalid. Don't offer to help with the things you know they can still do. Respect their right to not talk about their disease. Keep laughing as much as you possibly can.

In the Event of Panic...

Panic attacks are fuck-off scary for anyone within a 50 foot radius. Here are some Helpful Hints.

-Don't leave them alone. Don't overcrowd.

-Don't be afraid to ask for help.

-Don't dismiss their fears, however silly they may seem to you.

-Change location, even by just a room.

-Remember it will, eventually, end on its own.

You're a Person Too

Having an anxious person in your life is hard. End of story. Remember to take care of yourself as well as your friend; remember that this is really hard on you, too.

Resources

The best book on anxiety, ever.  - Dr Claire Weeks' Hope and Help For Your Nerves

An article on the effects of anxiety in relationships. 

What Not To Do if your friend has anxiety.

Keep in mind that several thousand books have been written on this topic, so this is just the beginning of the beginning about anxiety. If you have a specific question, or want me to elaborate on a specific topic, please contact me via the comments, a Private Message on Facebook, or email!

Interoceptive Exposure

Sometimes, I walk around with a sly, secret smile. "I know something you don't know." I wonder why I don't get smacked silly. I'm laughing because nobody knows - nobody can tell.

I can hide how scared I am.

It's easy, in a worrisome sort of way. A certain little flaunt, a certain little twinkle in the eye and "Oh god oh god I'm scared," comes off as a flirty bravado.

Lately I've been scared all the time.

It started, as many things do, with That Crazy Bastard, my shrink. He looked at me and furrowed his crinkled, wise-man brow and told me I must search out the things that scared me. That I must create them.

I hate That Crazy Bastard.

It's called Interoceptive Exposure, and it's a right bitch. What you do is, in a safe environment, create the feelings of panic. Call them up at will, plunge yourself into the brink on fucking purpose. Spin around in a chair until you feel dizzy and nauseated, run around until your heart is racing, stare at a wall until you're numb, until you can't feel anything anymore. Interoceptive Exposure. I ran into it by accident once; got mildly carsick and had a panic attack because it reminded me of the fear.

This is what anxiety feels like. It's my new mantra. It's an acceptance rather than a fight: instead of calm down oh god calm down relax relax it's okay ohgod calm down, you just say Yes. Yes, this is what anxiety feels like. My pulse is racing, my hands are shaky, I'm sick to my stomach, and it's not going to hurt me. It's anxiety; this is what anxiety feels like.

I fucking hate it.

"I want to be done!" I keep shouting, "I want to be better!" But slowly I realize that I'm never going to get better. Not ever, not EVER. I can learn to live with the fear, but that's the best I can do.

I'm going to be like this for the rest of my life.

So I'm not going to let it rule me.

Every day, every single fucking day I have to go and find the scariest, most anxious thing, and kick it in the balls. I went to a party. I started recording my anxiety. I talk to people who I haven't talked to in a while, even though I think they'll be mad at me. I trusted someone.

I wrote this.