The 12 Stages of (my) Anxiety.
I never realised that I had anxiety because I was surrounded by delightful people who told me that I was a psychopath, hateable, unlikable. I’m not anymore (surrounded by those delightful people that is, I am still a little bit of a psychopath at certain times of the month. Ahem.), though this doesn’t mean that from time to time, something doesn’t rear its ugly head and trigger all of those left over issues.
Anxiety affects different people in many, many different ways. After an incident recently where in my peak anxiety, somebody tried to touch me and I shouted at them, I decided to try and verbalise how my anxiety affects me. And to ensure that people recognise that by the time I scream, “don’t fucking touch me”, you’ve missed ALL of the triggers, pushed me over the edge and I’m seconds away from screaming or crying. Sometimes I’ll do both. And if, by that point, you’re shouting “OVERSENSITIVE” at me over and over again, you’re not helping. At all.
Here is how my anxiety manifests and what does or doesn’t help when I am having difficulties keeping my shit together.
1. I cry.
When I become anxious (or frustrated), I can feel my eyes welling up and it takes all of my focus and power to stop myself from crying. This can happen in front of a class full of sixteen year old GCSE English students as much as it can happen in a meeting with my peers or when I am embarrassed at the dinner table. I can not talk to you when this happens. I can’t do anything except focus on my breathing and try to bring my emotions back under control. I need everything to continue as normal around me, without engaging with me, while I try to pull my shit together. Please do not insist on trying to get me to engage with you. I can’t. And it will tip me over the edge.
2. I isolate.
Social interaction can cause significant sensory overload to me. During these times, I sometimes need short periods of time on my own to regroup. If I do this a few times and can’t calm down my anxiety, I will choose to leave as I know I can’t cope with any further interaction. Please let me go. When I say I am leaving (if I can, sometimes I just leave without saying a word, the ol’ Irish K Goodbye) please don’t boo, insist that I stay for one more or try to touch me as I leave. By this stage, I am so anxious, I can not be touched. By anyone. At all. So don’t. Please.
3. I assume.
When I am anxious, I assume that everybody feels the same way about me that I feel about myself at that moment. My inner voice of self hatred is corroborated by every glance I see, every comment I hear, every inferred suggestion I hear between lines that aren’t there. I read into every tiny detail and use it to build up the case against myself. You know, the one where I am the worst person in the history of the Universe, incapable of loving or being loved, a fucking useless, piece of shit. This leads me to isolate (see above), take myself off to bed and hope to some kind of fucking Dog God that I wake up the next day with a more positive state of mind. Let me go.
4. I snap.
Keeping my anxiety under control takes so much effort that I am incapable of processing anything else. I can suddenly become very easily frustrated, short and snappy. When this happens, I need you to leave me alone for a short time until I can get everything under control. I do not need you to tell me that there is something wrong with me or (my favourite) that I am a psychopath (or a whore, even though I’m not entirely sure how that links…). I know my flaws more intensely than you could ever possibly imagine. Seriously, you haven’t seen them at 3am post bender or on a three day come down after wild weekends (a long time ago I might add). I know that my positive attributes far outweigh these less pleasant ones so trying to build into my anxiety to control or manipulate me won’t work.
5. I withdraw.
There are some weekends when I will withdraw completely from the world. This doesn’t necessarily mean that I am in the peak throes of my anxiety; it can also mean that I am trying to utilise all of the coping mechanisms I have to avoid future anxiety. These weekends are entirely led by self-care to protect me from my own worst enemy; myself. Let me look after myself and know that I always come back, healthier and happier. Please don’t loudly declare, every time I see you, that you haven’t seen me for ages and it must be because I don’t like you. We organise stuff and invite people to it. If you don’t, please don’t put that on me. It makes me want to avoid future engagements where this kind of interaction is likely to be repeated. And since social engagements generally make me want to die anyway, this added pressure is what will see me stay at home instead of trying to engage in reality.
6. Silence
I won’t speak. Often, I can’t speak because I’m focusing on keep one or all of the above issues under wraps. Sometimes I need to figure out whatever it is that I need to say without spitting out the venom that initially comes into my mind fuelled by my anxiety. Venom that my brain directs at me, that I can then direct at you. My silence is quite literally golden. Other times I do not want to engage with the conversation and will have said this multiple times prior to going silent. Read the cues that come first. If I have repeatedly said that I do not want to have this conversation (again) and you bulldoze on anyway, even through my silence, then I’m just going to leave.
7. I stutter.
Focusing on controlling my thinking, breathing, reactions means that I can’t focus on anything else. I can lose the ability to speak and this sometimes leads me to stutter. This creates huge embarrassment for me and feeds into making my anxiety worse. Please don’t imitate my stuttering or mock me publicly. Yes, this has been done to me in the past. I mean come on, how fucking shitty is that?! If you wouldn’t do it to a child, don’t do it to an adult. And if you would do it to a child, you’re a cunt.
8. My phone.
During social engagements, I may sometimes be overwhelmed by everything going on around me and need to focus my mind somewhere else. Especially in busy pubs with lots of background noise. Scrolling through my phone enables me to focus entirely on something else and yeah, I get that it may appear rude, but it’s this or complete withdrawal. Let me do it for a few minutes, I’ll come back in when I’m ready. (Also, I have significantly poor hearing in one ear, chances are I can’t actually hear what anybody is saying depending on where I am sitting. You learn something new every day eh?)
9. I am manic.
I always think too fast. I often have phases where I talk too fast or just am too fast. I find cleaning very therapeutic because it enables me to be too fast whilst calming down, plus I get to achieve something at the same time. If I start cleaning up at a party, leave me to it. It does you a favour. And if I start cleaning up at my party, no I don’t need a hand thanks. Just some time out. My mania has decreased significantly since I stopped drinking and started focusing more on how to look after myself. I still fucking love cleaning though.
10. I can’t make decisions.
If I have battled to leave the house one day and now nobody can decide where to meet, it’s highly likely that I’m going to turn around and head back to my safe space. I need a plan in place. I need to know where I am going, what I am doing and when I am doing it. Telling me to pop round whenever is useless, I can’t do that. If I’m trying to organise a time or place with you, be definitive. I need specifics. And sometimes, if I’m dithering about, I might need to be told what to do. Also, if you want me to come round, you gotta invite me directly. Think of it as Old School. I’ll accept Victorian visiting cards, just don’t ring the doorbell when you deliver it because I won’t answer the door.
11. I pick.
I pick at my skin until it bleeds. It’s gross, I know. Please don’t slap my hand or shout at me to stop in front of people. It draws attention to what I am doing and embarrasses me. Which is likely to make me cry, get snappy or fuck off home. I’ve done this since I was younger and I am trying my hardest not to. Let me focus on my strategies for not doing this and try to avoid telling me how easily you stopped doing something that you believe is similar, like nail biting or eating chocolate. It’s not similar, but thanks.
12. I stop answering messages.
I can’t be near my phone because the message tone can trigger my anxiety when I am having a difficult time. This stems from a history of horrific conversations that took place via messages and has been an issue for many years. I don’t read the messages so I can’t respond to them. And whilst I try to respond when I am feeling better, sometimes I just can’t. Please don’t take it personally when I don’t respond to you. And if you can, message me a few days later. Sometimes I find it difficult to come back. A helping hand is always very welcome.
I’m sure there are many more things that I do when I am anxious that I am not aware of. Hubs is the Master of Anxiety because he has an extraordinary capacity to bring me out of my head and back into the world; something even the most qualified therapists I have worked with have not been able to do. Making me laugh can completely turn a moment around. Equally, it could be my undoing. If even I don’t know how a situation is going to turn out, how could anybody else possibly know what to do?
I should also add that these things happen less and less frequently since I have stopped drinking. They happen even less when I can exercise regularly (cheers Old Lady Hip). They happen even less when I eat healthily. Or when I focus on self-care. Or when I look after myself. Or even, when I am more conscious about the disconnect between my unstoppable brain and my unforgiving body. More on that another time.
This advice here only really applies to me. Everybody manifests and manages their anxiety differently. But there is something you can do that will make anybody feel better when they are feeling bad, whether they have anxiety or not.
Be nice.
#dontbeadick.
Pretty easy, huh?!
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