Anxiety is a funny thing.
Actually, it’s not.
It’s not funny at all.
(At least, not in the moment — it might be, years later. And by “years,” I mean decades.)
But it is a thing. A thing that I experience myself from time to time.
I wasn’t officially diagnosed by professionals until later on in life, but I’ve always been a kind of quirky cocktail of anxiety, OCD, and neuroticism.
My first panic attack was in kindergarten.
I was given a worksheet that instructed me to divide three apples among four pigs. Or three apples among two pigs. The numerical details escape me, but what I won’t ever forget is coloring the said apples green (because sour apples were — and still are — my favorite type of apples), the pigs pink, and using a black crayon to “slice” the fruit in such a way that each pig had the same amount to snack on as their friends.
But math wasn’t my strong suit.
It still isn’t.
When I say I sat at that table all afternoon, it’s probably an exaggeration. All I know is, my friends were allowed to get up and play kitchen and dinosaurs, but I had to stay in my seat, slicing and dicing imaginary apples until their bright green hue went black. I even drew new apples above the original three so I could start over. And over. And over.
Each time I got up to show my work, I was sent back to my desk to try again. I realize I’m painting my teacher in not such a great light right now. For the record, she was a very kind woman, but her encouraging smile did nothing for my five-year-old self’s self-esteem. I still felt like a failure.
It’s unclear if I actually cried at that moment, or if I just wanted to.
I had another incident in seventh grade when I thought I’d lost the USB stick on which I’d saved a PowerPoint presentation. I thought I’d brought it home to finish the assignment, but when I looked in my backpack, it wasn’t there.
Naturally, in a red-hot panic, I dumped everything in my backpack out on the floor. I checked every zipper. Every pocket. Nothing.
I wasn’t thinking clearly as I turned the whole house upside down. I even had my mom and dad looking in between couch cushions and through drawers. I searched every nook and cranny of my bedroom and checked my lunch box. It wasn’t anywhere.
And all the while, I was hysterically crying. My heartbeat could have challenged a racehorse and won by a mile. My stomach churned. I set my AIM away message to read, “Pissed,” then got in trouble for cursing on the internet (sorry, Mommy).
I took down the away message in the same breath I asked my mom to write a note to my teacher explaining the situation. She did because she loves me, even if I occasionally curse on the internet.
As much as I appreciated my parents’ support and effort to help me find the missing USB in this time of crisis, it turned out that my USB was never really missing.
It was safely tucked away in my locker.
Oh, and I had finished the assignment the day before in class.
I wish I could say that countless of these same scenarios haven’t occurred throughout my life, but they have. Quirky cocktail of anxiety, OCD tendencies, and neuroticism, remember?
The good news is, that as I’ve gotten older and worked through a lot of trauma, and have come to terms with the fact that perfection is a hoax, my anxiety has gotten significantly better.
That is until a new kind of anxiety crept up on me in recent months.
Social anxiety.
A therapist once told me that I’m an introverted extrovert. An ambivert, if you will. Loosely translated, that means I thoroughly enjoy my time alone, the time I spend in my little bubble creating and exercising and taking my time. But I also crave socialization.
I love being around the people I love. I thoroughly enjoy making them laugh. I even like meeting new people and hearing their stories. I love making friends and while I definitely do not miss working in an office, I love my editors and thoroughly enjoy every check-in call we put on the calendar.
So, knowing this, you can imagine how confused I was when I started experiencing panic attacks before social gatherings. Ones that I was actually really looking forward to in the weeks leading up to them.
Here’s what would go down: The night before an event, my chest would suddenly feel tight, as if someone were tying my lungs together like shoestrings. I’d wake up every hour, on the hour, my psyche morphing itself into a flipbook of potential disasters I couldn’t blink away. What if I don’t know anyone? What if no one talks to me? What if no one likes me? What if I’m uncomfortable and there’s no way out?
What if? What if? What if?
Many things in this life are outside of our control, but something we can control is our mindset.
Feelings are not facts. Facts are facts. Anxiety is the fear of fiction, of something that hasn’t happened (and likely won’t).
So I’ve decided to rewire my brain by challenging the negative thoughts when they consume me.
If you notice, none of the what-ifs I listed have anything to do with the facts. They’re about possibilities. Potential scenarios. Potential downsides.
But what about all the potential upsides? The good times to be had? The special moments in people’s lives that I have the opportunity to be a part of?
The poet Erin Hanson once wrote:
“There is freedom waiting for you,
On the breezes of the sky,
And you ask "What if I fall?"
Oh but my darling,
What if you fly?”
I’m not going to miss out on my chances to fly. Not on account of anxiety.
I’m going to show up for the people I love and I’m going to show up for myself. I’m going to do it with a smile and a positive attitude as often as I can because I’m surrounded by so many blessings. So much of my life is good, even when the anxiety is there, trying to tell me otherwise.
If you struggle with anxiety, in any form, I hope this serves as a reminder that you’re not alone and, better still, that you don’t have to let it consume you.
It takes work (I’m still working), but I promise it’s lighter on the other side.
Interested in books that have characters dealing with anxiety? Here are a few of my favorites:
The Rosie Project by Graeme Simsion (the narrator gives major Sheldon from The Big Bang Theory vibes and it’s wonderful)
The Boyfriend List by E. Lockhart (YA fiction)
Someday This Pain Will Be Useful to You by Peter Cameron (Very Catcher in the Rye-esque)
Interested in reading what I’ve been writing? Here are my articles that have been published this week:
5 Fashion Experts Share Their Go-To Airport Outfits
So Many Shades of Pink Are Trending Right Now
How to Channel the Clean Girl Aesthetic, According to Fashion Influencers
Luxeleisure Is the Opposite of Being "That Girl" & That's Why We Love It
I deal with social anxiety also. It's ok some times I can control it but other times, I just go crazy.
Thank you so much for sharing these experiences ! Social anxiety is really something. I also struggle with this and I believe mine has gotten worse since the pandemic and I can relate to the things you are saying. It is good to know we do not have to suffer alone .