The Time I Had An Anxiety Attack While Parallel Parking

I've had a week. Since Tuesday I've been battling a migraine complete with visual auras and light sensitivity - and I rarely get visual auras and light sensitivity with my migraines. My chronic fatigue has seemed in high gear almost nonstop for the past few weeks. Last night I started with a flare up of IBS, which I don't discuss much but have been battling for the past 12 years or so. My overall anxiety has been off the charts over the past month. The pharmacy didn't fill the right Mg of medication, so I've had to improvise by combining smaller Mg tablets until they do fill it, and I'm not sure when that will be. Which of course is causing me anxiety. So I didn't really need a particularly poorly timed anxiety attack.  

But low and behold, today, while trying to parallel park in my neighborhood, I had an anxiety attack. Let me back up. My condo comes with one parking spot, but we have two cars. Whoever gets home first parks on the street, because as the hours tick by the chance of finding street parking dwindles. So when I got home from work about an hour ago, I found a very tight but skillfully feasible parking space on my street. I don't like having to parallel park when others are driving around, edging in trying to rush me (it makes me anxious when anyone rushes me doing anything) but I do it often enough. But for some reason, perhaps because the spot was especially close and I was already not feeling well, I had an anxiety attack, right there in my car, mid maneuver. I was most of the way into the spot, enough to let people pass on the street, and I froze. Somehow, a kind woman driving by seemed to know something was wrong. I don't know how she did, because I was just of sitting there in my car, frozen, but she did. There was nobody behind her, so she pulled up next to me and tried to help me park, thinking maybe I needed some assistance. While she was not spot on about the kind of assistance I needed, I was incredibly grateful that she wanted to help at all. Then, cars pulled up behind her. Within a few seconds they all started blaring on their horns. Undaunted, this kind woman still tried to help me. But they laid into her with their horns so badly that I finally told her it was ok, just to go. Then, as they drove past, they glared at me. 

I finally pulled out of the spot, knowing that between the initial anxiety attack and the extra shot of anxiety from them blasting their horns and glaring at me, I would never be able to park in such a tight space. I continued to drive around until I found a spot I could have fit a school bus in. I was shaking when I did so, petrified that people were going to do this again if I found a spot I had to take my time with. When I finally parked and was walking towards home, a big SUV (Suburban or something of that size) pulled up in the street parallel to my car and started beeping. I jumped, scared that it was someone I'd held up in my previous attempt who somehow recognized me out of my car.  You never know with these days - people have gotten shot for less, seriously.  I realized soon that the car was beeping as a way to call to someone he/she was picking up out of the house, since there was no space to pull over such a big car and wait. Still, I put my head down and walked quickly home. 

I had plans to work out this afternoon, but I know that high anxiety + workout = a bad idea. Exercise increases adrenaline and when my body and mind is already stimulated from anxiety, it can throw me right into a massive anxiety attack or a hypomanic episode. After working out, I was going to start a nice dinner so that it was all ready when my partner gets home, since he has to work later today. Instead, I'm battling anxiety "hot flashes", sitting on the couch in an outfit that looks like it was rejected from Goodwill (though I did in my ironic sense of humor manage to put on my "Cute When Moody" Eeyore shirt), curled under a blanket and blogging while I can, because getting my words and thoughts out is one of the few things that helps anxiety when it gets this bad. Afterwards I'll probably curl up and read or watch something horribly cheesy but non-anxiety-producing on the Hallmark channel, because it's what I can handle right now. 

To the woman who stopped to help a fellow human who was having an anxiety attack with particularly unfortunate timing, thank you. There should be more souls like you on this earth. You didn't even back down when people started in on you, determined as you were to help.  To the impatient assholes who were in such a hurry that they couldn't wait even a literal minute to allow this kind woman to help, I hope you never have an emergency when it's inconvenient. I hope nobody ever has to stop and help you while delaying others for even a moment to ensure that you're ok. And I hope that if they do, you're completely understanding at the impatience of others. After all, it's every person for themselves, right? 

Asylum-Themed Halloween Attractions Need to Stop

There are a lot of things I like about Halloween. Orange is my favorite color. Any opportunity to dress up is a huge bonus. I don't love overly scary movies but I do love ghost-related things (assuming the "related" part doesn't involve actually interacting with a ghost up close). But one thing that I absolutely hate about Halloween, and I mean hate, is the "asylum" themed attractions. There are so many reasons. I could rant on and on about this. I'll try not to, but I might, a little.

First off, the fact that people with mental health conditions were until the last few decades more or less deemed hopeless cases and shut up to be forgotten about for the rest of their lives, is an atrocious tragedy. It's not a "fun attraction". Had you had to endure what these people had to, I'm quite sure you wouldn't think it was some sort of creepy-fun ride.

Secondly, and probably more glaringly, what these "attractions" portray is utterly BS, and they spread stigma.  Let me tell you what a hospital for mental health is like. Let me tell you, because I've been there. First off, while pretty much all of the health care system could improve, including that of mental health care, a facility for mental health looks a hell of a lot better than a regular hospital room. Yes, I had to share a room (for me with social anxiety this was pretty awful). But I had a real bed. Not a metal hospital bed, a real one like people would have in their homes. And a perfectly nice, friendly roommate. We had our own bathroom - every room did. There was a common room where we could watch tv, read, talk if we felt like communicating with others, which again, because of social anxiety, I didn't do a ton of. There were several individual therapy rooms and a group therapy room. Yes, they did take my belt, and then tell me I needed shorts that fit better (my witty response of "they fit fine 'til you took my belt" didn't go very far). Yes, I had to eat with a plastic spork. But if not being allowed a belt or metal utensils are terrifying to you, I hope you never have to go through security at the airport, because they don't allow these either.

And the people. Let me tell you about the people. I remember a very nice young man, probably mid to late 20s, who had been under so much stress at his job that he suffered what sounded like an anxiety attack. He'd come there to try to work through it and A friendly, interesting, adoring mother probably in her 30s, whose doctor hadn't filled her medication in time so she admitted herself to get the care she needed.  There was an incredibly gentle woman, probably in her 50s, suffering from severe grief at the loss of a parent. There was a quiet young musician who battled depression and admitted himself because he could see he needed some additional help and support. There were no zombie-rsque figures that looked like they were going to claw your eyes out, like the images portrayed on the asylum-themed billboards. They were real people, with real illnesses. People who had reached out for help and support, or whose loved ones had done so in effort to help them. They were perfectly friendly people of all ages who had jobs and kids and friends and responsibilities that they planned to go back to once they felt they had gotten the help they'd gone there for.

Can you imagine an a"attraction" in which  grossly misrepresented cancer or diabetes sufferers were used to scare visitors? This wouldn't fly, because it's not only inaccurate, but it's horrendously insensitive to those who battle these illnesses, who have loved ones who battle these, who lost loved ones to these. So why are mental health conditions any different? Why is it OK to put these illnesses, and the people who have them, on display in grotesque caricature form and call it entertainment? Quite frankly, it's not. And they need to stop.

Stop Bending Before You Break

Those of us who battle mental health conditions tend to be, on the whole, particularly understanding, sympathetic, and empathetic.  We give others what we wish people would give us - second (and third and fourth and fifth) chances. We listen to other people's reasons, even when they're simply excuses, blaming ourselves for their shortcomings and flaws. We know ourselves well, and because of this we're easy to place, and except, blame. We know we tend to have rigid thinking at times, black and white, for both self preservation and survival. This thinking gives us something to grasp onto, when everything else is so unreliable. Because of this, we can quickly take the blame: Maybe I should be more understanding and flexible. I know how rigid I can be. It's all my fault. Or I'm so needy and demanding. They put up with so much from my condition. They deserve for me to give them this. Or so many other ways of blaming ourselves, thinking that others know better, that our thinking must somehow be distorted by our condition and they really know best. We are easily convinced, sometimes by ourselves, that because of our conditions what we're feeling isn't "legit" in some way - that we're feeling upset or anxious about something not because that's a legitimate way to feel about it, but because our conditions are making us feel that way.

The problem with all of this, in addition to the fact that it's not actually true and it dismisses our feelings, thoughts, and needs, is that it convinces us to bend well past the point that we should. When we try to stand up for ourselves, we're often told we're being difficult. Sometimes, if a person is really being unfair, they'll point out "how much they put up with" because of our condition. They'll point out how flexible they are for us, because of our condition, how much they accommodate us. And this may be true, and it should be acknowledged - but not as reason for making us back down and stop standing up for ourselves.

In every discussion, or almost every discussion, there is the opportunity for compromise. Sometimes, it's one person giving in one situation, and another giving in another situation. Sometimes you both adjust and meet in the middle. But when it comes to being treated the way you deserve, do not give in. It's easy to think of ourselves as too needy, as too much trouble, as a burden. It's easy to bend and bend, thinking we owe someone else for "putting up with us". It's easy to be convinced that we're asking for more than we deserve. Much of the time, though, I'm willing to bet that you're not. I'm willing to bet that you're selling yourself short, because others have always taught you to do so. I'm willing to bet that if anything, your condition is telling you that you deserve less than you actually do. I'm willing to bet you've bent so far at times, trying to compensate, just in case you really are being too needy or demanding. Just in case you really don't see things as they truly are, no matter how sure you are that you do.

And when we do this too much, we break. We break our spirit. We break our hearts, or others break them for us. We break our emotions, often turning numb because we've cared and given so much that we're completely drained. We're hollow. We can't feel. When this happens, know that you are not alone. There are others out there, like myself, who understand exactly how this feels. Who don't blame you. Who won't let you blame yourself. There are others out there who will stand up for you when you have bent and broken to the point that you no longer feel able to do so for yourself.  And eventually, you'll get back up. You'll remember that it isn't all your fault. You'll know how much you deserve. One day, you'll be able to say, "No, this time, it's not me.  It's you." 

I'm Slowing Down On Social Media for the Sake of My Mental Health

I've been on a self-imposed personal Facebook ban for several weeks now. I do social media for my business, my Conference Center, and my mental health advocacy, or I'd be on a ban altogether. I'm not going to lie - when I go on for these reasons, I usually sneak in a "happy birthday" to those I'm close to, or occasionally like a cute picture of a dog if I see it without scrolling. But I'm trying very hard not to scroll, nor am I posting, with the exception of one picture collage of Grace.  Twitter is slightly better, and it moves past quickly, so I rarely have to look at something again and again and again.  Instagram has lots of pictures of puppies and inspiring travel destinations, and snapchat is mostly one or two friends using funny filters to make me laugh, so that one's totally fine.

Here's the thing that I want to be clear on: I am not determining my friending or following or unfriending or unfollowing on my political views, which I will not discuss here unless they directly relate to mental health legislation or something of the like. It's the views. In general. I don't care if you are saying you're going to vote for ME for president (please don't, I'm an introvert who gets anxiety when people make eye contact with me, and I look bad on camera). I'm usually one for a good political discussion between people who can agree to disagree at the end of the day and still respect each other as people, even when their views differ. But what 90 percent of people on Facebook are doing is immature mud slinging and name calling behind memes. Most people won't even come out with their opinion in a thought out and respectful way. They post nasty, snarky, memes that they can hide behind. They aren't even just hiding behind their computer. They're hiding behind a picture, that someone else created and they just lazily hit the "share" button on, on their computer. And then, there's the people that decide to march up and start an all out gloves off fight with someone they barely know in the comments section. Often, they're not even fighting with the poster. They're fighting with another commenter on the post that they wouldn't know if they fell over them walking down the street. Life has come full circle, and we're back to being three years old on the playground yelling "Jimmy's a poopy head" and then kicking Jimmy for good measure as we walk away, thinking there will be no recourse. Except we're saying it more often, with greater force, with much harsher and more dangerous words, and we're no longer three. We're now people making the crucial decisions in our families, our jobs, in society, and this is how we're acting.  (CYA: I don't know anyone named Jimmy, to my knowledge. If I do, Jimmy, my sincerest apologies. You're not really a poopy head).

I don't, per se, have an issue with conflict (just ask any number of my exes). And I don't have an issue with politics - I generally think it's fascinating, and I'm following all that's going on in the world in terms that I can handle. But I can't even scroll through my Facebook feed without seeing numerous fights breaking out. Angry fights among angry people.  Being on Facebook, I'm literally surrounded by negativity and anger. And I don't need that in my life - not when it doesn't even involve people I know, let alone myself. For someone who's emotions are extra sensitive, who can physically feel this anger and negativity of others, this is too much. It literally makes me feel like I'm being crushed and suffocated. I believe everyone has their right to post what they choose, but I also have the right not to be crushed and suffocated by it, to see it nonstop, day in and day out.  I write about mental health, depression, and suicide prevention daily. I am not one to shy away from difficult topics, and it takes a lot to be "too much", too difficult to discuss, too negative for me. But this has done it. And so I'm slowing down on social media for a while, especially Facebook. It is crucial to my mental health that I do so.

It also has some added bonuses. I notice that when I'm spending quality time with people, I'm tempted to check my phone significantly less. I'm more present when I'm present. I still have all of my friends, even if our political opinions differ. I'm not getting my "news" from Facebook memes, which means I have to actually research things, and I learn a lot of really interesting information along the way. I don't have the battle the "I just signed on Facebook to check one thing before bed and suddenly it's 1AM" monster. But mostly, I don't feel like my soul is being sucked out by negativity and anger, and I feel significantly less anxious. And for me, that's critical.

I'm not sure how long this ban will go, but I imagine at least until after the election on November 8th. And if after that it still causes me severe anxiety, I'll keep it going until it doesn't.

For now, for your viewing pleasure and completely non-political enjoyment, here's a collage I made for Grace's "Gotcha Day".  Because puppies are much cuter than politics.

What Does Mental Health Acceptance Look Like?

Today is World Mental Health Day. It's one of the few days each year where even those who are not specifically mental health or chronic illness advocates seem to be interested in the subject. My guess is mostly because the hashtag is trending on twitter, and people who may not normally see posts about mental health do. I'm kidding, but only partly (it really was trending). Whatever the reason, it makes me happy and proud to see such a large group of people speaking out, or at least following along with the discussion, liking posts and retreating tweets, and what have you.

Needless to say, every day is mental health day for me, and for everyone else who makes up the twenty five percent of the US population that battles a mental heath condition. That's right, approximately one quarter of people in the US. One third when including addictive disorders. Which may seem startling in itself. What's even more incredible is that despite this glaring number, society at large likes to pretend it isn't an actual illness, scraping the subject under the carpet, only to pull it out when they need an easy scapegoat for some sort of tragedy. As those of us who advocate increase in number, refusing to be pushed down and quieted, we are making headway. Still, we have a long way to go before mental health is truly accepted.

So, what does that mean, mental health acceptance? To me, acceptance is:

• When you understand that it is a medical condition, in an organ, that just happens to be the brain. Just like any other chronic, physical condition, that affects a particular organ or system.

• When we no longer have to explain why it is not "all in our heads", no longer told to just be more positive, look on the bright side, adjust our attitude, be more grateful, and we'd be better. 

• When we can take a sick day for our condition just as someone with asthma or diabetes or heart disease would, without any overt or subtle backlash. 

• When our conditions are covered by insurance companies and other healthcare providers just as physical conditions are. 

• When our veterans suffering from PTSD get the care they deserve. 

• When we can openly tell people about our illness without sideways glances, backing away, awkward pauses. 

• When you see us as a person, an individual, and not our condition. 

• When you realize that not everything we do or say is because of our condition. We are entitled to emotions just like everyone else.  

• When you stop thinking that we'd be better if we were "normal". 

• When people understand that we are 10 times more likely to be VICTIMS of violent crime, not perpetrators.

• When you understand that (hypo)mania, panic attacks and anxiety are serious, and not us  being "dramatic". 

• When you realize we didn't choose our conditions, just you did not choose asthma or diabetes or cancer. 

• When you understand that it is a depressive episode, and not us being lazy.

• When we don't have to explain that we aren't being rude or boring, we have social anxiety. 

• When you stop trying to shame us for taking medications that save our lives. 

• When you are as willing to help someone in a mental health crisis as you are in a physical health crisis. 

• When you realize that depression can be a fatal illness. 

• When people are no longer afraid to speak out about a loved ones suicide, or seek help for their own suicidal feelings. 

• When we stop having to pretend we aren't sick because it makes you uncomfortable. 

• When you call us strong for living every day of our lives with this illness, instead of crazy. 

That is mental health acceptance. 

What Does Mental Health Acceptance Look Like?

Today is World Mental Health Day. It's one of the few days each year where even those who are not specifically mental health or chronic illness advocates seem to be interested in the subject. My guess is mostly because the hashtag is trending on twitter, and people who may not normally see posts about mental health do. I'm kidding, but only partly (it really was trending). Whatever the reason, it makes me happy and proud to see such a large group of people speaking out, or at least following along with the discussion, liking posts and retreating tweets, and what have you.

Needless to say, every day is mental health day for me, and for everyone else who makes up the twenty five percent of the US population that battles a mental heath condition. That's right, approximately one quarter of people in the US. One third when including addictive disorders. Which may seem startling in itself. What's even more incredible is that despite this glaring number, society at large likes to pretend it is an actual illness, scraping the subject under the carpet, only to pull it out when they need an easy scapegoat for some sort of tragedy. As those of us who advocate increase in number, refusing to be pushed down and quieted, we are making headway. Still, we have a long way to go before mental health is truly accepted.

So, what does that mean, mental health acceptance? To me, acceptance is:

• When you understand that it is a medical condition, in an organ, that just happens to be the brain. Just like any other chronic, physical condition, that affects a particular organ or system.

• When we no longer have to explain why it is not "all in our heads", no longer told to just be more positive, look on the bright side, adjust our attitude, be more grateful, and we'd be better. 

• When we can take a sick day for our condition just as someone with asthma or diabetes or heart disease would, without any overt or subtle backlash. 

• When our conditions are covered by insurance companies and other healthcare providers just as physical conditions are. 

• When our veterans suffering from PTSD get the care they deserve. 

• When we can openly tell people about our illness without sideways glances, backing away, awkward pauses. 

• When you see us as a person, an individual, and not our condition. 

• When you realize that not everything we do or say is because of our condition. We are entitled to emotions just like everyone else.  

• When you stop thinking that we'd be better if we were "normal". 

• When people understand that we are 10 times more likely to be VICTIMS of violent crime, not perpetrators.

• When you understand that (hypo)mania, panic attacks and anxiety are serious, and not us  being "dramatic". 

• When you realize we didn't choose our conditions, just you did not choose asthma or diabetes or cancer. 

• When you understand that it is a depressive episode, and not us being lazy.

• When we don't have to explain that we aren't being rude or boring, we have social anxiety. 

• When you stop trying to shame us for taking medications that save our lives. 

• When you are as willing to help someone in a mental health crisis as you are in a physical health crisis. 

• When you realize that depression can be a fatal illness. 

• When people are no longer afraid to speak out about a loved ones suicide, or seek help for their own suicidal feelings. 

• When we stop having to pretend we aren't sick because it makes you uncomfortable. 

• When you call us strong for living every day of our lives with this illness, instead of crazy. 

That is mental health acceptance. 

The Anxiety Of Setting Goals

I'm a dreamer. I am an ideas person, who loves looking at the big picture:  You know what I'd love to do....?  Wouldn't it be cool if.... What I really want to do with my life is....  Sometimes I get so far as  writing it down. Actually, I often do - I'm a writer after all, as well as a planner and a list maker.  I gather ideas in my head, on paper, in my daily writing notes, about what I want to do and where I want to be in life one, two, five, ten years down the road. And it's exciting! Until I start actually trying to create a plan. Then anxiety sets in.

You might find this ironic, as I've mentioned that I'm a planner - literally, I plan things for a living. But those are concrete things. Someone wants to go to Italy. This couple wants to go on a honeymoon to an island, that family wants a reunion in Costa Rica. Those are concrete, at least for me. I know the steps along the way. I have a pattern I know to follow when planning and booking these. I have suppliers in various expertise, in the properties or on the ground in the destinations. I have the travelers to discuss with along the way, to make sure what I'm planning matches what they're looking for. And most importantly, these plans do not rely on my belief of myself from within. I don't have to believe that I can get them a four star hotel, at least not in the traditional sense. I have to get in touch with my hotel contacts and my suppliers, check out rates and availability, provide options to the client with details of the accommodations and prices. While I've encountered some pretty tricky requests, I can usually find something that meets their needs, and if not, there's always the option of saying "I'm sorry, that's unavailable." I hate to have to do this, but people tend to understand it. A hotel has a certain number of rooms. They aren't going to kick someone out to put you in. If you insist on this, I probably don't want you as my client anyway. So I go in search of another hotel. Or the clients have to increase their budget. Or we look at more affordable destinations. But there's always a defined next step.

When it comes to putting my dreams into action, however, it's a different story. I begin by writing generalized goals. Where I want to be in five years, four, three. As it gets down to two, I can feel my shoulders start to tingle. Yes, my shoulders. For some reason that's where I feel the anxiety first. Perhaps it's because they are what's holding my posture upright, and as my confidence starts to wane, I know they'll start to slump. My loss of belief in myself will be visible, physical, or would be if anyone was there. Next, it's my heart and my stomach. They all start to tingle, twinge. Somewhere between "first date/day on the job" excitement jitters and "I'm alone in the house and it's dark and someone's knocking on my door" apprehension. By the time I get down to the "One Year" bullet point, it's more or less all fear. There's pretty much no room for excitement. My brain is on overload, fully in self-deflation mode. You'll never be able to do that! See now you're stuck - you're only good at big ideas. Your dreams are so unrealistic. You're just not capable. You can't get past this first step. And more often than not, I don't. It simply seems impossible to put pen to paper, or fingers to computer, and write down steps that I'll actually have to take soon. Almost like to write it down would be to accept that I can do this, that I could possibly achieve this goal or dream, and therefore I'm unable to continue writing.

I'm not sure, exactly what causes this. I suspect it's a combination of factors. Depression tells me all sorts of nasty things about myself, including the above. It also tells me the moment I get stuck that I'm a failure, again, "just like every other time". Not to mention that it exhausts me, so that even when I have thoughts of trying to push past the negative, I feel like I physically don't have it in me.  Then I feel like a failure and lazy and blame myself further.  There's also anxiety, which stops me in my tracks. I freeze. So does my brain. I cannot think, at least not about the task at hand, and sometimes, about anything. My most commonly used phrases during an anxiety attack are "I don't know" and "I can't." As in "I don't know because I am unable to even think straight for anxiety" and "I can't do what you suggest or I'm mentally, emotionally, and what feels like physically frozen because of anxiety."

When this happens, as much as I want to push through it, I rarely do. I know that it's keeping me from my goals - from even getting them fully on paper. Sometimes I think if I had someone to split up the goals with, someone who's strengths were my weaknesses and vice versa, perhaps I could persevere. Hell, I can't even get past the goal setting. How am I supposed to reach the actual goals. Sometimes, I distract myself, like now, when I used this feeling as fuel for a blog. Sometimes, I think I need to just push past it. Be as uncomfortable as I can possibly stand, and see if I hang on long enough, if that feeling will pass and I'll come out on the other side of it able to actually continue to write my goals. In these moments, I wonder if the anxiety is some sort of perverse self-defense mechanism. If I can't write my goals down, I can't attempt to achieve them, and if I don't attempt, I can't fail. Nor will I have to deal with all of the depression and anxiety that will surely come along with attempting. In these moments, I wonder if perhaps it's just a vicious cycle that I'm unable to get out of.

The only thing I've found that sometimes works for me is to create minute actions that are completely underwhelming (most days). Take one tiny task that I can do in the half hour or less. Maybe it's finding the name of a potential contact that I may need. Perhaps it's finding one source of information that will help with the task at hand. It may be reading one document, or even a couple of pages of one document. And then I stop. I don't try to go any further, to push myself until I inevitably hit a wall and get anxious.  I set another tiny goal for the next day. I try to tackle these goals early on in the day, to feel accomplished, to help build confidence. And if all else fails on a given day, I distract myself completely. Get together with a friend. Pick up a good book. Take my dog for a walk (not always the most relaxing, though). Go for a run. Find a terribly predictable Hallmark movie that has zero surprises and therefore zero opportunities to produce tension. What I absolutely can't do is to allow myself to slip into negative talk. If I can stay away from this, I might stand a chance of trying again tomorrow and making a tiny bit of progress.

Do you have strategies for tackling goals and plans when anxiety kicks in? I'd love to hear them, so please share!