Today marks 1 year.
It’s funny to look back on my childhood and realize that it started much earlier than I thought. I have described myself as a “scaredy cat” as a child to many people. I didn’t like to spend the night out places, I didn’t like to do anything I didn’t understand, I was always nervous on the first days of school, I wanted to know how things worked and felt uneasy when they couldn’t be explained. I feel like I had a wonderful childhood and the most loving family. This was something that was simply there. There was not a rhyme or reason to it or any sort of big event that I can look back on and say, “Ah, that’s where this all started”.
Things leveled out once I was middle school aged. I would spend the night places, try things I wasn’t sure I was going to be good at, and lived, what I would call, a normal life. Extracurriculars, church events, family time, and a lot of times with friends. But even still, there were seeds that would come up. If my parents didn’t answer the phone when I called I would immediately worry something was wrong, if I saw something frightening on the news I wouldn’t be able to get it out of my mind. Events and thoughts like that swarmed my mind all of my teenage and young adult life.
We know that with each stage of life, there are situations and circumstances that you will likely experience. Think about learning to drive, going on first dates, making decisions about where to go to college, your first fender bender, friendship changes, all things that could cause nerves and anxiety. I had times with high anxiousness throughout high school and college but nothing that became all-consuming and I certainly wasn’t labeling it anxiety at that time.
I always contributed it to my personality. I am a feeler. I am sympathetic and empathetic. I consider these traits gifts from The Lord because it makes me soften towards people and helps me with connection and understanding. There are times though, where it becomes overwhelming and I feel things to the point that they impact my thoughts and my subconscious without even realizing it. When something happens, I usually think about how it makes other people feel before I consider how it makes me feel.
Fast forward to adulthood and there was a timeframe where it seemed like one thing after another, after another, after another started to happen. If you know me, then you know about (what I call) our “puppy woes” that happened a few years ago. Since then, I have decided those events are what made my anxiety reach its peak. A few years later, there was a medical emergency that happened with a friend that was incredibly frightening, a school incident that was difficult to navigate, and then the pandemic started. To say everything felt overwhelming is an understatement.
It was only after all of these things happened that I even started to consider seeing my doctor to talk about getting on medication. I had come to the conclusion that this was something that I had and something that I felt internally and deeply. Looking back, I was finally putting a name to something that has been present since childhood.
I would talk with my Mom about it a good bit and it was hard to explain that I was not dwelling on these situations but that I would subconsciously think about them. I would wake up in the middle of the night and my first thought out of sleep was about something that was bothersome to me. It is an overwhelming feeling when you realize how little control you have over it when you’re literally asleep and these thoughts wake you out of sleep.
I didn’t realize how much my anxiety was impacting me until it wasn’t.
It took me two years of talking to family, talking to friends, researching, and trying other natural remedies before I decided to talk to my doctor about it. And this is the point of my post. It wasn’t shame that kept me from going because I felt like I was open when talking about my feelings and struggles. I saw nothing wrong with seeing a doctor to get on medication. I didn’t think I would be any “less” if I did that. I honestly don’t know what kept me from seeing her for so long. Maybe I thought that with time it would go away like it had in the past. I’m not sure and that’s something that I will reflect on and think about. But what I do know is that it’s okay.
It’s okay that it took me a while.
It’s okay that I had questions.
It’s okay that I have those feelings of anxiety because to me, they are linked to my empathy and that’s something that is good—it’s something that makes me who I am.
But, it’s also okay that I needed help.
It’s okay that a medication makes my mind feel at ease and brings balance.
It’s okay that I didn’t know to what degree my anxiety was impacting me until I felt what it was like for it not to be ever present.
My hope is that this serves as an encouragement to you. Especially if you’re reading this and thinking it sounds all too familiar. I just wanted to share that a year later, I feel better.
