Wide eyed and hopefully wild
December 15, 2012
Social events give me anxiety. Sometimes, for the entire 10 hours leading up to an event. I sit and try to work, and my hands shake and sweat and my breathing is fast, and I can’t eat, and I feel like I’m going to puke. All of my muscles are tense and start to ache. My mind races, and I try and find a way out. I argue with myself all day, my anxiety says “NO! DON’T GO!” and the other half of me says “We are trying to be healthy, and form relationships, what is the worst that could happen? Nothing terrible will happen. Everything will be fine.” But I can’t talk my adrenal gland out of overreacting.
I am very familiar with this feeling, years and years of this lead me to avoid even making plans. I stopped participating all together because I was so uncomfortable all of the time. There is very little that is enjoyable about seeing friends when it is encased in this physical and mental turmoil. It isn’t the people, it isn’t the nature of the event, it is a completely irrational fear.
I had been doing this for so long I stopped making the connection between avoiding the feeling of anxiety and the fact that I stayed home, all the time. This wasn’t working for me anymore. I was lonely, and scared, and sad. I had to change or I was going to stay miserable.
This weekend I had an event that I was nervous about for a multitude of reasons. Generally, just the fact that I will have to actively socialize with a group of people is enough to cause adrenaline to surge through my body. But this… this had many more things to be afraid of. I have been doing well lately, with the help of medication my anxiety has been manageable. I have done many things I never thought I would or could. But this was like I had made no progress at all. I had almost forgotten how horrible and sick I could feel just from fear and ‘what if’. I tried to get out of it, but I knew the only reason was anxiety, and I knew I would regret it, and I knew that was the opposite of progress.
I went, and as it usually does, my fear began to lessen as the event goes as it should. I feel awkward and I don’t know what to say, but then mini-event #1 happens and it is fine. And the entire room doesn’t point and laugh at me. I don’t pee my pants. Or puke on anyone’s face. With each passing minute I get more comfortable, and I feel okay.
I’m not a scientist, or a neurologist, but I’m pretty sure there is an equal and opposite brain chemical to adrenaline, and I am finally able to feel its effects. It has never been so obvious and intense before. If I graphed this day, my mood would be a parabola. The problem is, it doesn’t stop when it hits the X axis again.
I started to feel heavy, and very dizzy, and very tired. I closed my blurry eyes and I wanted to be asleep and I felt very sad. I wanted to fulfill my self-imposed goal of attending this event in it’s entirety, so I stuck it out. When it was time to leave, I got in my car and cried all the way home. My body and my brain were exhausted. I didn’t understand why I was so sad, and tired, and defeated. My sadness snowballed into incredibly negative thoughts. I felt complete defeat, and hopelessness. I hadn’t had such an incredible spike in anxiety like this in a while, and have never had a crash so intense.
I wake up and I don’t feel rested, my face and neck and shoulders hurt from having been tense the entire day before. I want to avoid all interactions with people, and even saying hi to someone is a chore. I have no energy left to feign interest in anyone. I desperately need to recharge, alone. I can’t come up with a response to “How are you?” I have an even harder time putting sentences together. I'm at work- I need to be sharp. I need think critically and take criticism and I can't even make eye contact. Today I realize this is like an anxiety hangover, and it is not fun.
While I am not enjoying this process, I am glad I am able to visualize my mood on a graph. I am glad it makes a little bit of sense. It has been many years of random swerving, this is different. It is like wading through cement, but I think I can do it.
1 comments
I can relate to this on so many levels. I'm glad that you're able to look at it this way and try to make sense of it.
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