Anxiety is a sneaky sucker. Just when you think you’re on your game, it finds a new way to trick you back into neuroses.
In my 20’s, I had faced (and overcome) agoraphobia. And then, in my 30’s, I found myself, one day out of nowhere, paralyzed with social anxiety that proceeded to overtake me for months.
For me, general anxiety is present most of the time. I treat it quite successfully with exercise, meditation, counseling, and a low dose anti-anxiety medication. But the most debilitating anxiety comes when a major panic attack is somehow (often randomly) triggered, and it takes me on a downward, terrifying spiral that lasts sometimes for weeks – or even months.
And so, I was in my eighth year of teaching, and I was good. I knew my curriculum. I had teenagers engaged and following the rules. In addition, I was contracted by the National Writing Project to deliver professional development to teachers in other schools. And then one day, WHAM, my feet were knocked out from under me.
It was triggered by something so silly. I was leaving a message on a colleague’s answering machine, and all of a sudden – a sinister trick of the mind – I heard the question: What if I do something weird, like…find myself unable to speak coherently when prompted to leave a message? And then BEEP, there I was. My heart began racing, I felt like I couldn’t breathe, I stuttered, I blanked out…and then…it happened. left an odd, nervous message on my colleague’s answering machine.
Then came the unraveling. What if I became unable to do the simplest things, like, talk to a bank teller? (which was on my to-do list), and even more terrifying: What if I had a panic attack while I was in front of my class, talking to my students? Then, the most horrifying thought of all: They would think I was crazy, because there is no logical explanation for such behavior, ESPECIALLY when I’ve proven that I am so capable.
And this, folks, is the catch. We don’t want to do anything that, God forbid, “doesn’t make sense,” or “seems odd,” or even worse, leads people to suspect that we may have… an anxiety disorder! So our brains reel in search of a way out, which triggers adrenaline, which then seizes our bodies and scares us, which triggers more adrenaline, and then – well, you get the picture. Just try telling a bank teller you want to deposit your paycheck, or worse yet, explaining to your students how to write a topic sentence, when you can barely breathe, thanks to the spin-out that’s happening inside your body and brain.
I could write another entire blog – or even create a whole separate website dedicated to analyzing and lamenting society’s many dysfunctions and how, if we weren’t judged so harshly, maybe we would all be okay, but the topic at hand here is survival.
So…How did I survive? The short answer is, it wasn’t just one thing. But there were a couple of things for sure that were key stepping stones to my pathway out.
First, I chose what I call a “centering metaphor.” I’m a nature lover who believes that there is more wisdom in the natural world than we really understand, so I went deep inside myself and chose a natural element to represent my life experience. You can read about this in more depth in my next blog post.
Second, and maybe most importantly, I formed a relationship with that voice when it came to scare me. I learned to say, “Go ahead, do your thing. Bring it on.” At first, it was hard to hold my seat. To just wait without reacting as I felt my heart begin to race. With time, though, I got good at it. I learned to just ride the wave. And just like a bully whose victim doesn’t care about being bullied, my fear voice got bored and shriveled away.
And that, friends, is what deflated my panic attacks and left them powerless over me. Like enemies that you want to make amends with, I invited them in.