Anxiety: It’s not me; it’s you. Sorry.
When my anxiety is getting the better of me I feel I need to say everything, put it all into words, make my own sense of it and be heard.
Every part of this need for openness is problematic:
1. My anxiety involves other people and their actions so to talk about what is upsetting me is to criticise others – or risk making them feel they are being criticised. This results in others being defensive or hurt and my anxiety escalating. And people mistake silence for rudeness so I can’t ever get this right.
2. People want to give me answers and solutions or explain what is going on and what is real and what is not real. This makes me more anxious and insults my intelligence. I know what is real. And I know about anxiety. I am an expert.
3. People tell me not to worry. There are not enough hours in the day to explain why this is ridiculous but a comment like this will make me unlikely to share my fears with a person and instead make me feel ill. (Or if you’ve caught me at a particularly bad moment may result in colourful language.)
Most of what makes me feel anxious can’t be stopped. Some of it can be avoided to a point, and my self-awareness and ability to assess things enables me to judge what I feel able to put myself through at different times and in different situations.
4. People offer fixes. When you have lived with anxiety all your life and have been through what I have been through – you have researched, experimented and grown wiser – you become weary of “fixes” and weary of trying. You come full circle and your knowledge is deep.
‘I have found what works for me and what doesn’t, but thank you anyway’ doesn’t cut it for some because here I am still complaining about anxiety. Clearly this indicates to some I haven’t found what works and they feel a need to help. Really: thanks but no thanks.
The truth is I don’t want to complain about MY anxiety, MY “problem”. I really want to complain about the world around me because I have found what gives me peace but I’m not always allowed it. Instead I must internalise the feelings and do the anxious thing.
Currently I don’t know if and when our back garden will go back to being peaceful ever again and that is causing me to worry and to pace. The uncertainty and unpredictability of other people has always been distressing for me, and the responses required from me are exhausting – as too is the “put up or shut up” it often seems is required by everyone. I find the best way to heal and recharge is total withdrawal, and being able to escape from man-made noise is important for me. If and when I get that, I feel lost in a delicious calm. It’s my self-prescribed medicine, it’s what works.
Several times every day, I swallow a rant that is playing on my lips, I hold back an opinion that might result in an argument I don’t have the energy for, I decide again and again and again that I can’t put my needs above others’, that I can’t voice my concerns, that I must disguise my discomfort. This in part is to do with being a woman, a mother, an adult, a responsible member of society. It’s about caring about others but it is also connected to my anxiety, and for me it is pretty constant and I wish I could retreat to my ‘what works for me’ more often to avoid this anxiety. Instead, though, I must keep on, knowing how things should be and knowing I can’t change them – and occasionally allowing myself to blurt out how anxious that makes me feel. I should be allowed that at least, surely?