I have anxiety.
One definition of anxiety is: a feeling of worry, nervousness, or unease, typically about an imminent event or something with an uncertain outcome. The Psychiatry definition of anxiety is: a nervous disorder characterized by a state of excessive uneasiness and apprehension, typically with compulsive behavior or panic attacks.
I have been diagnosed… with anxiety.
I have dealt with this disorder my entire life, and I have no idea what it means or what it’s like to live a normal life.
One of the things I have problems with is worrying. When I looked up the word anxiety, I also looked up the word worry. Which, is defined as to: give way to anxiety or unease; allow one’s mind to dwell on difficulty or troubles. Or: a state of anxiety and uncertainty over actual or potential problems.
These definitions for both anxiety and worry describe me and my everyday life. It describes what I have been fighting all my life.
A few months ago I decided to start therapy because of some thoughts and feelings I was having. Plus, everyday life was just getting to hard to handle. I honestly was getting frustrated that family and friends would tell me that I just needed to stop worrying and thinking the thoughts that I would think. But family and friends also didn’t know the extent of my mental illness. I would always tell those who told me to stop, that if I could, I WOULD! I highly doubt anyone would want to live like this day in and day out.
I worry about everything and everyone. I worry about my husband, my son and his little family. I worry about work, my husbands work, home and the many things that need to be done around the house. I worry about finances, my son and his family’s finances. I worry about my health. My husbands health. And, you guessed it, other loved ones’ health. I worry about today, tomorrow and the future. I worry about how I present myself and what others will think. I worry about how my family presents themselves. I think the list can go on but I have a feeling you probably get the idea.
The thing is, these are my thoughts every single day! Some days are better than others. Some days something can trigger all these thoughts to come to my mind. All at once. It’s exhausting. It’s hard to go to sleep, let alone stay asleep when things are bad.
When I started to understand why people who struggle with mental illness commit suicide… I figured it was time to seek help. Now, I personally would not choose to end my life. I have so many blessings in my life and there would be so much heartache for my loved ones.
But, I just get tired.
So, I understand that those who choose suicide might just be tired and exhauted about their struggles. It may end your own pain, but it doesn’t end your loved ones pain.
Back to the therapy thing.
My therapy is helping so far. I have taken baby steps and still have a long way to go. I just want to be healthy and happy for me and my family. I want to be around and see my family grow. I want my family to have good memories of me and not ones of sadness.
Me sharing my journey of my mental illness is giving me anxiety. I worry about people judging me. But, I have talked to my husband about how sharing could help others in their journey. And I’m sure I can learn from others who have been there. It gives me comfort to know that there are others who struggle and I’m not the only one.
You’re not the only one!
I’m not the only one!
We’re all in this… together.