"I feel like I am watching everyone else live while I wait for my turn."
--Madisen Kuhn
Maybe this is where my anxiety starts... Sitting on the couch. No job. Government money. Average home with an average relationship. Going nowhere. Sick.
No life to live.
Three weeks ago I wrote about my struggle with my mental health. Three weeks ago my best friend called me. Worried about me, he said something no one else had suggested to me: start doing some things I used to love to try to get back into being me-- if my problems were anxiety, the distractions might make me feel better and then, if I realized it was anxiety, that would squash the anxious part of me that feared my problems were physical.
"It's not that easy..." I said.
His first suggestion was playing the piano again. I don't think I'm ready to do that, for personal reasons. So his next suggestion-- Art. Paint again.
I love art. I'm not good at it, but I appreciate it and can find myself getting lost in it easily. It was definitely an option I was willing to consider.
"Every other day. Thirty minutes to an hour." There was a smile in his voice-- hope.
I could do that. But then, recognizing his own slump, I made a suggestion for him...
"What about adding writing prompts? On the non-art days."
I didn't expect him to say yes since he's been in a severe writer's block for over a year and, in general, pretty down. (He's also super self-conscious of his work.) But he agreed.
Now here we are. It's two weeks later-- writing day. "What do you wrap barbed wire behind? (Myself-- my thoughts; fears and insecurities.) What do you protect with all your might? (Cookie. My family. My husband and friends. Him. And you.)" Well, we just shared our answers and discussed the motivation and feelings behind them. I must say... In the moment, when I'm concentrating, it does help. Some of the feelings remain, but I guess it could still be anxiety (there's no real "off switch"). I do think picking back up hobbies that I can lose myself in does and will help.
I also think the process of stripping my hair of its blue color may help me. Returning to my natural roots, literally, may help me feel more normal. More like me.
Don't get me wrong, I felt very much like me (maybe more me) with blue hair. I'd wanted to do that for years. But I found I was losing myself in trying to be someone I no longer am. I'm not a rebellious teen. I'm not the girl who can just hop on a plane tomorrow and get away (not just because of CoVid, but because I have a husband. And a "baby girl"). I can't walk into a job interview looking "crazy". Blue hair me was the girl I was in my heart, but not in my head.
But, I also think he helps. And while a best friend helping wouldn't normally be of any concern... It is to me. I don’t like being dependent on others. But...
Talking to him is helpful. The random conversations are helpful. Just listening to him talk, even if it's in German and I don't understand it all, is helpful. Watching Mr. Robot, when I swore I never would because of my annoyance of a specific actor's face is helpful. Reading together from books we decided we'd discuss is helpful. Sending him my plate of food and having to hold myself accountable to get it down is helpful. Having him ask me, multiple times a day, to describe how I am honestly, is helpful.
And these art and writing assignments have been surprisingly helpful.
When I first went to Urgent Care they prescribed new medication to treat a physical condition, but did not test me for anything but CoVid-19 (I was negative). My husband went and picked it up and then handed it to me and suggested I treat the problem immediately. Despite the very evident panic attacks, he seems to side with physicians that my problem is physical. In fact, he hardly acknowledged when I brought up considering therapy for the first time in 11 years. (Well, that's a lie... He asked if I was sure and seemed concerned about the cost. I then chose not to register because I feel guilty.)
My level of concern lately runs deeper than just a husband who "doesn't get it" though. My concerns are... Why has my anxiety gotten so bad again? How can I control it? How can I get a doctor to look at mental illness and not just assume a worsening of physical illness? Why am I taking steroids when this may be a chemical offset? How do I become “okay” without people as we quarantine?
The point of this was to be honest about my emotions and inform you that I'm coping, (and how), and the future of this blog.
I may still be MIA for a little while, but I want to assure anyone who does read this (besides my best friend) that I'm okay. I'm starting a "group therapy" approach through the app Sayana (post to come soon) and I'm working on my hobbies. I'm still talking to friends and family. I'm trying to eat and sleep even when it's hard. I still clean the house. I'm working on myself and I know at some point I'm going to be okay. I'll be back.
But!
In the meantime, please, feel free to stay a while.
And!
Remember, you can pick what comes next.
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