This is a piece about Anxiety from my own experience. While it would mean a lot to me if this piece is relatable or resonates with any other person/s living with an Anxiety Disorder, I cannot assume that it will. So as I said, this is only from my own experience/s.
Anxiety is a killer. It makes me feel things I do not want to feel, and then on the other hand it stops me from feeling things I want to feel. It makes me notice things. Small things. The kind of stuff that really don’t mean anything in the long run but feel extremely important at the time. But then it makes me miss other things; all the stuff that actually is important. It makes me doubt myself. It causes me to take everything to the extreme, including emotions. That means when I am happy I am not just happy. I am not the kind of happy that you feel only for a moment, or a few minutes, or an hour. When I am happy I feel it everywhere in my body and it then manifests externally; in the way that I talk to people, my speech patterns start to pick up, I talk faster, I talk like I am running out of breath. My mouth can’t stop smiling. There have been days when I am so happy that my lips start to twitch when I try to stop smiling but I can’t. My happiness lasts for days, and then it is the same when I am upset or hurt. I need to be alone. I need to not talk to anyone. Sometimes it is like everything is creeping up on to me slowly, all the fears that I have about myself, all the fears that I harbor for my family, my friends, the future, all of it sinking on to my shoulders and weighing me down until it all gets so overwhelming that I start to feel panicked because I can’t arrange all my emotions, and feelings and thoughts in a way that it all makes sense. And if I can’t make any of it…clean and organized than it all coalesces in to turmoil in my brain until I don’t know what the hell is going on. That is how the panic attacks start. That is one example of Anxiety Disorder.
Anxiety impacts on how I interact with other people. Mostly it makes me want to avoid them because I don’t want to burden them with my anxiety in the first place. I avoid them because I am scared that, when I open my mouth to talk to a particular person, all my words will come out at the speed of f–king lightning. That happens all the time; everything just comes out so fast that nothing is comprehensible or articulate at all. It’s just word vomit and I know that because I can hear it but I can’t stop it. And it’s humiliating. So more often than not I don’t even bother. I just stay away from people, not because I hate them but because I hate the blabbering mess that I turn in to when I attempt any conversation or interaction at all.
Also, sometimes I do not like talking to persons ( I know “people” may sound better here but to me “persons” actually sounds more accurate ) about my Anxiety Disorder because I am afraid that they will say things, anything, to make me feel better. I don’t want that. If they are willing than I just want them to listen. Or if I talk to a person about my anxiety they may think that I am just a girl who whines, or I am the kind of girl who makes a habit of “feeling sorry for herself”. I hate that. I hate when people take my insecurities, my weaknesses, especially when I have trusted them enough to confide to them in the first place, and twist it around like that. Make it out to be something it’s not. That tells me that they missed the whole point. They are completely ignorant. They do not have the ability to step out of their own way of viewing the world if only to view it from the eyes of another person. I do not know if this is a gross generalization but I am going to take a chance and make the claim that people do not confide in others easily. They don’t spill all their feelings, their fears, secrets. There may be two reasons for that which is fear of being vulnerable. That one is pretty…well, everyone knows what that’s all about. Or, an ingrained belief that tells us, all of us, that some people are not going to listen. Some people are not going to care. Some people do not want to know about anything that they themselves have no experience with. Some people do not want to know about anything that is not “normal” or “conventional” or anything that does not conform to what makes society comfortable and acceptable and f–king boring.
Anxiety makes me analyze everything and by that I do mean everything. Every conversation, everything I say. Everything the other person says. Every look or glance that may pass between me and another person, by that I could take one look and come up with this: “are they mad at me? Or am I just worried about nothing. I haven’t done anything to offend them…have I?”
The way I dress when I go out. Sometimes I spend too long in front of the mirror at home, critically assessing my outfit and thinking “Oh, God, is this too short? Is this too revealing? Shit I don’t want to wear anything…indecent. But I don’t, usually. I mean at least I don’t think I do. Ugh, I wish I was a boy! Would probably be so much easier if I was. Or maybe not, what would I know? Oh, God, shut up. That is why I hate when guys whistle or cat – call to me from their cars, and that has happened a few times. I f–kin hate it because it frightens me, and it makes me worry about what I am wearing all over again. If I am an anxious person, in what universe is it a compliment for a guy to cat-call or whistle at me from his car? It’s not. It just builds on the anxiety.
Anxiety makes me analyze the way that I carry myself in public, and all the messages that my body language conveys to others. But then I look at all the people around me, and I think “Well, what about their body language?…Wait, what about it? I don’t see anything. I am no Alan Pearse, I cannot “read” or “decode” body language anyway, and should it really matter? Wait, no, it does. I don’t really know how it matters or why but I know it does. Oh, screw it. I’ll figure out all of that later. First I need to work on my verbal communication”.
Most of what I analyze really does not need to be analyzed at all. I am not sure if that even makes sense, but that is the best way I can explain. Most of the things that I analyze should not be analyzed. But that is just it; analyzing, and over – analyzing, is a very present mark of anxiety, a very real mark of anxiety. It lies at the very heart of anxiety. It is paralyzing. I cannot even begin to list the number of times I have wanted to talk to someone, really wanted to talk to them, and I psych myself up. I tell myself “Okay I can do this. I can do this. I am going to actually do it this time, I’m going to just walk up and be like “Hey!”…and then, well, um…well. I’ll think of something to say after that; anything! I just have to start first. And then I’ll take it from there. Or hope that he/she will take it from there. I don’t even know, I just need to open my mouth and talk to her/him first. Sometimes I really, really believe that I am actually going to go through with it. Sometimes I really believe that I will actually go up to the person that I want to talk to, and it can be someone with who/m I have no prior interaction or no experience talking with, or someone I have conversed with many times before, does not make a difference either way. All I know is that I get a confidence boost that lasts for a moment, a moment in which I really believe that I am going to make the first move, and then that stupid voice in my head will say to me “No, don’t. Leave them be, they do not want to talk right now” or “Nah, I don’t think they want to talk to me right now so I’ll leave it for today” or “No, they’re busy” or “No, they’re talking to someone else” or any other excuse that I can come up with to talk myself out of talking to them, and then to convince myself that I made the right decision. I know it sounds pathetic. I know it may reflect low – confidence or low self – esteem issues but really, it would only seem that way to people who do not understand. People who have no experience with mental illness whether it be themselves or a friend or family member. Anxiety often has nothing to do with a person’s confidence or their self – esteem. Because with me, when I am not anxious at all, my confidence is fine. I believe in myself. I have no doubts. My insecurities are still very real, and they still exist, but I do not dwell on them 24/7 on the days when I feel calm or at peace with myself. I just…move on with my day, pretty much. I push the fact that I worry about absolutely everything every second of every day, to the back of my mind. When my hands start to shake, I stuff them in my pockets ( if I am wearing clothing with pockets ) and pretend they’re not shaking. Or I’ll ball them in to fists to hide the fact that they are shaking, or sometimes…sometimes I will just let the shaking happen and not do anything at all to stop it or hide it. If my cheeks flush red, sometimes I’ll lower my head, let my hair cover my face to hide it. Other times I’ll just let it be. Some days I am tired, tired of hiding all the time and pretending all the time, tired of being embarrassed and ashamed, and scared, and I end up thinking “You know what, f–k it. If I freak and go in to a panic attack I’m just going to let it run its course and wait it out. If my hands start to shake I’m just going to let them. I can’t be bothered anymore. I never wanted to be this way. I never wanted to feel this way all the time, but I do. I need to accept that until I can “get better”. I need to accept that *before* I can even hope to get better. And who knows, maybe when I start to accept myself everyone else will, too.”
Aspergian*101 