It’s 8 pm. I’m home alone reading research papers on the HPA axis while listening to white noise playlists. This is the type of stuff I do for fun. No, that’s a lame intent of a joke. I honestly feel like Hannah Horvath when she was going through a nasty OCD crisis and started googling the weirdest things.
And here's why: I have GAD. I have mentioned my struggle with anxiety a couple of times on social media before, but I never really dared to talk truly openly about it.
But I will do so today because that's the whole point of this substack page: to be an outlet for some intimate and wholehearted writing. (But relax, I'm not going to tell you the chronology of events or how it all started when I was 6 years old).
Yet, I'll be honest: I'm having ambivalent feelings as I write this little introduction. I feel vulnerable expressing my struggle, but also brave for speaking about it.
Even so, since I deeply believe that if more folks open up about their mental health, the stigma surrounding mental illness will ultimately dissipate, I shall continue.
(I know that Hannah’s anxieties aren’t the same as mine. To paraphrase Tolstoy, “every anxious person is anxious in her own way”, so let’s keep in mind that this is my experience, my story, my reality.)
I think anxiety resembles a tidal wave.
It can build, gaining momentum, growing bigger and bigger until it eventually comes to a peak and swallows you whole.
…
This might be a bit too poetic. Allow me to be more precise.
*ahem*
You’re going about your day and suddenly feel an initial trigger: a little jolt, a kick, a lump in your throat. You realize your breathing is a little unusual, or that your vision is getting blurred. You try to slow your heart and mind, but your body is shifting, tightening, trembling. You become obsessed with the thought of relaxing. You need to be composed, and stay composed. The thing you fear most is embarrassment. People will notice. You’ll make a fool of yourself. And as soon as your conscious mind forms the sentence “I’m having an anxiety attack” it’s over, love. The thought metastasizes and consumes you, like a carnivorous wave thirsting for weakness.
(Well that was a great metaphor, hope you noticed)
I've felt this way more times than I care to tell. This summer, I almost lost a flight back home because I couldn't find the strength to get up and go through airport security. And this is just a brief example among many.
"Don't pass out" has become my hopeless mantra. And I say hopeless because, well, sometimes I do faint. (It's called vasovagal syncope and is usually harmless.)
I know some of you reading this must be feeling slightly surprised. Because OH BOY, if I had a nickel for every time someone says "No way! You? Anxiety? You seem so calm and put together", I would probably be dining at a Michelin-star restaurant right now.
Either way, here’s what matters: I’ve been facing it, treating it. Riding the wave. Some days are easier than others, but luckily, I must say I can lead a pretty normal life for the most part. Therapy, diet, teas, supplements, crystals, meditation, nature, articles, essays, books… I’ve been a good (and veeery open-minded) student.
If you ask me what has helped me the most, I will undoubtedly say cognitive behavioral therapy, along with dietary adjustments, CBD, a once-in-a-while Valium1, and Barry Mcdonagh’s book Dare. But as I said in the intro, this is my experience. Very different from Hannah’s, and surely very different from yours. So if you’re going through something similar, I strongly advise you to seek help and find what works best for you ♥
And now let me just add something even more unexpected and insane to end this letter: despite everything, I’m thankful for my anxiety.
SAY WHAT?
I know, I know. The conversations around mental health tend to be dominated by the negative impacts on those who have them, so of course, THIS SOUNDS BANANAS.
But I believe everyone who suffers from anxiety knows its double edges. Anxiety can make it impossible to study, work, socialize, and function like a normal human being. It can make you question your self-worth and sanity. But anxiety can also be what makes us recognize what's genuinely important in life.
I love that because anxiety will often strike at the most unforeseen moments, it has forced me to get to know myself and accept myself on a whole different level.
I love that because it makes me feel so vulnerable, it has taught me to be more empathetic and compassionate toward others.
And I love how it humbles me. Each time I believe I have mastered life and surpassed all pettiness, anxiety shows up and reminds me that I have no control over what shows up - that I can only choose how I respond.
Obviously, I wish I could take away the bad things anxiety causes because they reeeaaaaally REALLY suck.
But at the same time, I would never in a million years take away the positives.
After all, that’s how I learned to lead from my heart.
And that’s a pretty awesome thing.
(This is the PERFECT song for this letter. Check the lyrics!)
🌈Uplifting little things from these last days
Writing this letter and publishing it. It wasn’t easy. I wrote it several weeks ago but couldn’t find the right moment to publish it. Now I’m proud of myself for doing so. If you’re going through something similar, I hope it brought you some comfort.
Know that you’re not alone.
Personally, I’m not a big fan of medicating anxiety, as it usually comes with a price tag in the form of side effects. Yet, medication has occasionally been key in helping me alleviate more severe symptoms or deal with particularly stressful situations. Once again, each situation is unique. This is just my personal opinion and experience. Nonetheless, I'll add an important piece of advice: don't self-medicate. While it might feel tempting, self-medicating is a dangerous gamble that can end up worsening anxiety, rather than treating the condition.