We have probably all experienced the mental health stigma that told us that mental health conditions are scary monsters that live in our brains from which we can never recover. This, of course, makes us expect people to run when we mention our mental health condition. Why should people be expected to put up with a scary monster when it has no chance of being "fixed" or at the very least, less broken? So, we're made to believe that having a mental health condition makes us something tragic, hopeless, and scary, which is just too much to expect someone else to reasonably and continuously deal with.
Since I've been struggling through the worst of my anxiety for the past couple of years, I've noticed this recurring fear. This fear likes to pop up usually when I've had a particularly rough time with my anxiety, usually in the middle of hysterical sobbing or when I can't bring myself to be alone, when I'm at my most vulnerable. The fear: What if my OCD is too much for anyone else to deal with, and they just leave? What if everyone I love decides they can't deal with me anymore and they just...leave?
I never worried about this sort of thing before the OCD had me in its grip at the age of nineteen, but now it's a regular thing that's on my mind. I worry that my friends will get tired of my anxiety-riddled, rambling messages. I worry that my mom is going to get tired of the tearful phone calls and the meltdowns and the being careful of triggers. In the middle of a sobbing, hysterical meltdown, I've asked her time and again if she's going to make me move out of the house because she's tired of my anxiety. (She would never do that.)
Logically, I'm sure these things won't happen. It's just the anxiety. Anxiety picks up on your worst fear, and then anxiety beats you over the head with your worst fear until you can barely function. The fear is that a mental health condition can make me unlovable. Anxiety shoves you right over the edge from average-person worry into catastrophe. (The average person worries that their loved ones may just up and no longer love/like/care for them. Then the anxiety distorts that into thinking that I am unlovable.) I can use logic with anxiety all I want, but that doesn't erase the fear. Sometimes, I feel like my anxiety is too much for me to deal with, let alone for some other person outside myself to deal with. It's just so much work, which means I am so much work, and what other person wants to have all that extra work when they don't have to? My anxiety answers: No one.
I know an unwell brain thrives on isolation, so of course my mental health condition pushes and pushes me to be isolated. If I am isolated with no support system, then the unwell brain can rage and wreak havoc with no one to point out anything that might stop it. Yet, knowing that doesn't stop me from getting lost down the rabbit hole and thinking I'm too much work and people don't want to put up with me.
Here's what I want us all to realize and hold on to: Just because your mental health condition feels like too much for you to handle some days does not mean that you, as a human, are too much to handle. Even though a mental health condition is work to live with does not mean that you, as a human, are too much work. The people around you that truly love and care about you do not think that you are too much work. They just see a family member or friend that they want to be there for, that they want to help. You are more than just a pile of extra work in the form of crazy. No one sees you as tragically broken and hopeless. You have intrinsic value and good qualities that people love about you that are not diminished by the fact that you also have a mental health condition.
I'll end with this: Yes, having a mental health condition requires work to function. Yes, some days require more effort than other days. Just because you have a mental health condition does not mean that you, as a human, are more work than you're worth. You are a human being, with intrinsic value, a unique personality, and good qualities, and the people that truly care about you see that. They don't see you as a pile of extra work they wish they could discard. The people that truly care about you will not leave you because you have a mental health condition.
Wednesday, August 30, 2017
Wednesday, August 16, 2017
Is this Rational?
I've always been a worrier. As far back as I can remember into my childhood, I always had something that could worry me to the point of tears. When my mom cleaned the carpets with one of those foam cleaners, I'd worry if I stepped in a damp spot that the chemicals in the cleaner would get absorbed into my body through my feet and I'd die. (I was around age 5.) Then once I started school, I worried that as soon as my mom dropped me off, something terrible would happen to her (like that she might die in a car crash) until I got distracted with classwork. I didn't like riding the rides at the fair because I worried that they weren't safe. In high school, I worried that we'd have a school shooting or a bomb threat. (We had one bomb threat my entire four years, and I didn't even go to school that day.) In college, every time I crossed the street, I worried about getting hit by a car. Today, I worry about too many things to list.
All through the years, I've always been worried about one thing or another. One thing I never worried about, though, was whether or not my worries were rational or irrational. I didn't think worrying about things made me a "crazy" person. I thought worrying about things made me cautious, and that it meant I had self-preservation instincts. Worry was always "normal" to me.
Then I got diagnosed with Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. I was relieved to have a name for thing that made me feel like a "crazy" person. However, mixed in with that relief, was more worry...about my worries. One of the symptoms of OCD is irrational worry, fear, and anxiety. Irrational...that word stuck.
I started to worry about how rational or irrational I was. Every time I got worried about something I got worried that my original worry was irrational, which meant it was just another way that OCD was trying to maintain control of my life. I started to pathologize every little thing and worry that the OCD was trying to take over again. I know that sometimes, my OCD brain will pick out a strange thing to make me feel worried about (Example: what if some place is haunted, and because I already have a funky mind, what if some malicious spirits attaches to me...totally irrational. Demonic supernatural possession was one of my first OCD obsessions, in case I hadn't mentioned that before.)
I had to come up with a way to separate my worries into rational worries and my anxious thoughts. So, now when I find myself worrying about something to the point of anxiety, I have to ask myself some questions. Number 1: Is this related to any of my obsessions? If I answer yes, I toss the worry in the OCD pile. If I answer no, I ask myself question number 2. Question Number 2: If I had this thought at a no-anxiety time, would it give me anxiety or could I shrug it off? If I could shrug it off at a no-anxiety time, that means (for me) that the worry is tied to my anxiety disorder. If it would still cause me anxiety at a time when I wasn't feeling any anxiety, then (for me) it means the worry is a rational worry.
Example: I recently thought of switching from whole milk to soy milk, and so I got a carton of soy milk to try. (Trying some new foods/drinks/medications that I have never tried before makes me anxious because I'm afraid I'll have an adverse reaction to a new thing and possibly die.) After I bought it, I was still researching soy milk and health-related things. I discovered that there is some controversy surrounding soy milk and it's effects on hormones in women. So, I was afraid to drink the soy milk because I was afraid of the health consequences. I had already drank some, and so I was anxious about it. Question 1: Was this related to any of my obsessions? The fear that I was going to die from the soy milk was, so I tossed that away. Question 2: If I saw this soy milk-hormone-trouble related stuff on a day when I had no anxiety, would I still be worried that I had consumed soy milk? The answer: Yes, I would still be worried, and therefore I would not continue to drink the soy milk even if the data was inconclusive (so far) because more research is needed. Conclusion: being worried about the health effects of soy milk is rational for me, and it's okay if I don't want to drink any more. It's also okay if I don't want my mom to drink it, too. It has nothing to do with my OCD.
I'll end with this: It's so easy, when you get diagnosed with a mental health condition, to pathologize behavior, and it can take work to figure out the best technique to use to determine if a behavior is a "normal" behavior or a pathological behavior. The best thing that works for me in my life with OCD is to ask two simple questions. Question 1: Is this worry related to any of my obsessions? If the answer is no proceed to question 2. Question 2: If I was having a no-anxiety day, would this worry be something I could shrug off without any anxiety? That might not work for everyone, but it is a good way to learn to flag anxious thoughts versus rational worries. Just remember, because you've been diagnosed with a mental health condition doesn't mean that every behavior is caused by that mental health condition.
All through the years, I've always been worried about one thing or another. One thing I never worried about, though, was whether or not my worries were rational or irrational. I didn't think worrying about things made me a "crazy" person. I thought worrying about things made me cautious, and that it meant I had self-preservation instincts. Worry was always "normal" to me.
Then I got diagnosed with Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. I was relieved to have a name for thing that made me feel like a "crazy" person. However, mixed in with that relief, was more worry...about my worries. One of the symptoms of OCD is irrational worry, fear, and anxiety. Irrational...that word stuck.
I started to worry about how rational or irrational I was. Every time I got worried about something I got worried that my original worry was irrational, which meant it was just another way that OCD was trying to maintain control of my life. I started to pathologize every little thing and worry that the OCD was trying to take over again. I know that sometimes, my OCD brain will pick out a strange thing to make me feel worried about (Example: what if some place is haunted, and because I already have a funky mind, what if some malicious spirits attaches to me...totally irrational. Demonic supernatural possession was one of my first OCD obsessions, in case I hadn't mentioned that before.)
I had to come up with a way to separate my worries into rational worries and my anxious thoughts. So, now when I find myself worrying about something to the point of anxiety, I have to ask myself some questions. Number 1: Is this related to any of my obsessions? If I answer yes, I toss the worry in the OCD pile. If I answer no, I ask myself question number 2. Question Number 2: If I had this thought at a no-anxiety time, would it give me anxiety or could I shrug it off? If I could shrug it off at a no-anxiety time, that means (for me) that the worry is tied to my anxiety disorder. If it would still cause me anxiety at a time when I wasn't feeling any anxiety, then (for me) it means the worry is a rational worry.
Example: I recently thought of switching from whole milk to soy milk, and so I got a carton of soy milk to try. (Trying some new foods/drinks/medications that I have never tried before makes me anxious because I'm afraid I'll have an adverse reaction to a new thing and possibly die.) After I bought it, I was still researching soy milk and health-related things. I discovered that there is some controversy surrounding soy milk and it's effects on hormones in women. So, I was afraid to drink the soy milk because I was afraid of the health consequences. I had already drank some, and so I was anxious about it. Question 1: Was this related to any of my obsessions? The fear that I was going to die from the soy milk was, so I tossed that away. Question 2: If I saw this soy milk-hormone-trouble related stuff on a day when I had no anxiety, would I still be worried that I had consumed soy milk? The answer: Yes, I would still be worried, and therefore I would not continue to drink the soy milk even if the data was inconclusive (so far) because more research is needed. Conclusion: being worried about the health effects of soy milk is rational for me, and it's okay if I don't want to drink any more. It's also okay if I don't want my mom to drink it, too. It has nothing to do with my OCD.
I'll end with this: It's so easy, when you get diagnosed with a mental health condition, to pathologize behavior, and it can take work to figure out the best technique to use to determine if a behavior is a "normal" behavior or a pathological behavior. The best thing that works for me in my life with OCD is to ask two simple questions. Question 1: Is this worry related to any of my obsessions? If the answer is no proceed to question 2. Question 2: If I was having a no-anxiety day, would this worry be something I could shrug off without any anxiety? That might not work for everyone, but it is a good way to learn to flag anxious thoughts versus rational worries. Just remember, because you've been diagnosed with a mental health condition doesn't mean that every behavior is caused by that mental health condition.
Wednesday, August 2, 2017
Self-Fulfilling Prophecy
I worry about my anxiety a lot, particularly during the months of June and July. It seems like I catch myself monitoring my anxiety more often during those warm months. I catch myself saying first thing in the morning, "I hope my anxiety isn't too high today." If we go out somewhere, I catch myself thinking, "I hope it isn't too loud or crowded so my anxiety doesn't get too high." If I feel my anxiety start to rise I'll think, "Oh no! I hope this doesn't get out of hand."
Checking in with yourself about your mental health is a good thing. Worrying about your mental health condition, however, is not a good thing. Worrying about my anxiety actually has a negative effect on my well-being. By worrying about it, I'm creating a space for it to creep in and take over. By worrying about it, I'm constantly thinking about it and guarding against it, and that makes me hyper-aware of any symptoms of anxiety that might show up. That's pretty much just asking for the anxiety to show up since I'm thinking about it so much and being wary of it at the same time.
My therapist explained it this way: She watched a TED talk on stress and the body. There were two groups of people involved in a study (longitudinal study is my guess). One group thought that stress didn't negatively impact the body. The second group thought stress negatively impacted the body. After time passed, the group that didn't think about stress hurting their body were still mostly fine. The people that worried about the impact of stress on their body had more health problems. She explained that the same idea applied to worrying about anxiety as well. The more you worry about something like anxiety, the more likely it is to happen.
Basically, just like the people that worry about the effect of stress on their body, by worrying about my anxiety, I created my own self-fulfilling prophecy. By worrying about my anxiety, I invited it in for a visit because I kept it on my mind. The same thing happens with panic attacks. Worrying about and fearing a panic attack often causes one to happen.
The simple solution would be not to worry about the anxiety and panic attacks, but that is more difficult than it sounds. It takes quite a bit of effort to move your mind away from something scary. I'm sure we were all confronted with something scary, like a medical test, that we just couldn't stop thinking and worrying about. It's not something that you can just stop thinking about because it's always there, floating around in your mind somewhere.
At the first sign of worrying too much about my anxiety, I start changing the way I think about the things. I'm always worried that I'll be as anxious as I was when I was forced into treatment, and I'm always worried that I'll let my anxiety ruin my birthday. I always start to worry about that in June. So, now, I try to talk to myself differently about my anxiety. Instead of the negative, worrying statements, I say, "You know you're anxiety might be higher right now, but that's fine. You're in a different place than you were a couple of years ago, and you have no reason to think the anxiety is going to spiral again. You are doing better, and you can continue to do better."
I also try to change the pictures I have in my mind. Instead of picturing myself so anxious that I cry and have a hard time functioning, I picture myself as content and busy with cleaning and writing and playing with my cat. I don't picture the anxiety as part of my day. I wake up in the morning, and instead of worrying about my anxiety immediately, I think about the things I planned to do that day. I picture myself doing them instead of being frozen in anxiety. In other words, I try to create a self-fulfilling prophecy of fun productivity instead of anxiety. I find that doing this one thing helps me to manage my anxiety throughout the day. (However, this doesn't make the anxiety go away, because some days are just anxious days no matter what you're thinking and planning, but this is a management tool for the days when I'm more in control.)
I'll end with this: Sometimes, we create the way we feel by the way we think. Worrying about anxiety and panic symptoms will likely bring on the symptoms, just like worrying about stress hurting your body leads to stress hurting your body. Picturing a good day, or at least a busy day without picturing the anxiety, doesn't leave as much room for an anxiety invasion, which (at least for me) makes the anxiety more manageable.
Checking in with yourself about your mental health is a good thing. Worrying about your mental health condition, however, is not a good thing. Worrying about my anxiety actually has a negative effect on my well-being. By worrying about it, I'm creating a space for it to creep in and take over. By worrying about it, I'm constantly thinking about it and guarding against it, and that makes me hyper-aware of any symptoms of anxiety that might show up. That's pretty much just asking for the anxiety to show up since I'm thinking about it so much and being wary of it at the same time.
My therapist explained it this way: She watched a TED talk on stress and the body. There were two groups of people involved in a study (longitudinal study is my guess). One group thought that stress didn't negatively impact the body. The second group thought stress negatively impacted the body. After time passed, the group that didn't think about stress hurting their body were still mostly fine. The people that worried about the impact of stress on their body had more health problems. She explained that the same idea applied to worrying about anxiety as well. The more you worry about something like anxiety, the more likely it is to happen.
Basically, just like the people that worry about the effect of stress on their body, by worrying about my anxiety, I created my own self-fulfilling prophecy. By worrying about my anxiety, I invited it in for a visit because I kept it on my mind. The same thing happens with panic attacks. Worrying about and fearing a panic attack often causes one to happen.
The simple solution would be not to worry about the anxiety and panic attacks, but that is more difficult than it sounds. It takes quite a bit of effort to move your mind away from something scary. I'm sure we were all confronted with something scary, like a medical test, that we just couldn't stop thinking and worrying about. It's not something that you can just stop thinking about because it's always there, floating around in your mind somewhere.
At the first sign of worrying too much about my anxiety, I start changing the way I think about the things. I'm always worried that I'll be as anxious as I was when I was forced into treatment, and I'm always worried that I'll let my anxiety ruin my birthday. I always start to worry about that in June. So, now, I try to talk to myself differently about my anxiety. Instead of the negative, worrying statements, I say, "You know you're anxiety might be higher right now, but that's fine. You're in a different place than you were a couple of years ago, and you have no reason to think the anxiety is going to spiral again. You are doing better, and you can continue to do better."
I also try to change the pictures I have in my mind. Instead of picturing myself so anxious that I cry and have a hard time functioning, I picture myself as content and busy with cleaning and writing and playing with my cat. I don't picture the anxiety as part of my day. I wake up in the morning, and instead of worrying about my anxiety immediately, I think about the things I planned to do that day. I picture myself doing them instead of being frozen in anxiety. In other words, I try to create a self-fulfilling prophecy of fun productivity instead of anxiety. I find that doing this one thing helps me to manage my anxiety throughout the day. (However, this doesn't make the anxiety go away, because some days are just anxious days no matter what you're thinking and planning, but this is a management tool for the days when I'm more in control.)
I'll end with this: Sometimes, we create the way we feel by the way we think. Worrying about anxiety and panic symptoms will likely bring on the symptoms, just like worrying about stress hurting your body leads to stress hurting your body. Picturing a good day, or at least a busy day without picturing the anxiety, doesn't leave as much room for an anxiety invasion, which (at least for me) makes the anxiety more manageable.
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