Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Embracing Anxiety

When I was 6 years old, my father thought it would be funny to scare me. I remember brushing my teeth, jumping onto my bed to await story-time and BOOM! He had crawled into a small space between my bed and the wall.  He lay there quietly and motionless and as I inadvertently peered over the side of my bed I spotted a pair of big black shoes. He screamed "rhaaaaaaaa" and then popped up in my face. Fucking hilarious, right?! Not really.
From that moment forth, I insisted on checking under my bed, in my closet and behind the doors every night before I went to sleep. Sometimes I even checked my drawers, not that anyone could actually fit into them, but just in case.
I have no recollection of ever feeling safe after that. I know whole heartedly that this incident alone did not cause me to develop anxiety/panic disorder, but it sure helped send me on the way. I wasn't conscious of it until I was an adult but I was actually acting out of anxiety from an early age. I became hyper-vigilante about my surroundings, not just my bedroom. I was keenly aware of what was going on around me at all times and even positioned myself to feel protected; seeking corners in a room so no one could sneak up behind me, aisle seats at the theater so I could run out, and my bed was pushed firmly against the wall, no space for anyone to fit between it and the wall. I began to have aversions to certain activities, at the time, not comprehending that I was afraid, but rather thinking I just didn't like doing them for some other reason. I lived a normal life, no one, not even myself, understood that I was trying to avoid certain feelings, trying to somehow control the environment around me and working tirelessly to create a sense of safety.
In my teens, I unknowingly self-medicated. I was a pot-head, mmmmm yea, loved the grass from morning 'til night. Not much bothered me, not much anxiety over anything 'cause I was pretty much stoned for about 6 years. Fun times from what I can remember.
When I was in my early 20's, I met my first husband (yea, I had a first). Everything was "normal" for the first few years and then I stopped smoking dope...what the fuck was normal now? I became a walking nerve-ending. Without getting into the details, my life became imprisoned by my fearful mind. I avoided any and all situations that might provoke feelings of discomfort or lead to a panic attack. I sought therapy and was officially diagnosed with panic/anxiety disorder but refused medication, I didn't want to be one of those people, all spaced out and mentally ill; I just wanted to stop being afraid all the time. Things eventually became so unbearable that I took a 9 hour drive from my home on the East Coast to Michigan so I could see a therapist that I trusted to start my recovery. I call it recovery because in a sense, I felt that I was recovering pieces of myself that I'd lost when anxiety took over my life. I began to find parts that had withered away and breathe new life into my being. For the first time in 3 years, I was able to get on an airplane and fly to my favorite place on Earth for a vacation...of course, on the way back, my husband decided to divorce me. Oddly enough, from that moment on, I didn't have another panic attack for 5 years. What do ya' know! Adios douche bag!
Eventually, I moved back to Michigan and the love of my life found me at a yoga class. When things started to get "serious", we took a vacation together and on the way home got into a huge fight (yes, I know, same scenario but different guy and we were in a car not a plane). We were fighting and I was driving when wham, bamm, holy crap I'm gonna die! I couldn't breathe. My heart was racing and I was sure I was having a heart attack. I pulled the car over and stumbling into a field, crawled into a ball and begged my boyfriend to call 911. I still remember the look on his face, "is this a joke?!" I realized rather quickly that it was not a joke at all but indeed it was my old nemesis rearing its ugly head. "Why hello Panic, its been a long time".
Our ride home was long and silent. I was ashamed and mortified by what I had let my boyfriend see but more than anything, I was determined not to let my panic and anxiety destroy my relationship and control my life again...and so I didn't.
Six years later we got married and six and a half years later I am still battling this excruciating but no longer debilitating disorder. I rarely have full fledged panic attacks but I know I am not immune to them. They have come and gone over and over throughout the last several years but I am better. I take risks and I am afraid but I am living my life and I have found this wonderful thing called courage.
With the combination of medication, yoga, and behavior therapy, I have the tools to do the work it takes not to overcome my anxiety and panic but to embrace it; to shift my understanding that it is no longer my rival but my persistent teacher. With fear, I get the chance to be brave, and with discomfort I have the opportunity to be present. I am able to appreciate things that may seem inconsequential to others but are little victories for me everyday. My struggle has afforded me the ability to have compassion and empathy in a way that makes me a better human being, better friend, and better yoga teacher. For each day I wake-up I am grateful, even on a "bad" day. For every friend who allows me to love them, I do it and I love them wholly and hard without judgement. And for every time I step into the yoga room to teach a class, I am overwhelmed with gratitude to be a part of something so magnificent...a room full of warriors with strength and awareness, beauty and grace, courage and perseverance, love and acceptance and finally...a space to feel safe.

Namaste-

~ the thoughts and opinions expressed above are solely mine and are in no way a reflection of those who are more highly evolved

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