Maybe I need Anxiety Medicine.
The inner dialogue of a therapist, who uncovered her own mental health needs.
You never know what life can be like on the other side of healing, until you’re finally there.
One morning, I called my boss in a complete, panicked melt down I was having in my car. I told her I couldn’t come to work that day; I was so sorry, and I promised I would get all my work done. I turned around, gave up for the day and went home. I was flush, breathing heavy, sweating, heart racing, on the verge of tears, with this perpetual stress just lingering underneath waiting to burst.
I started taking anti-anxiety medication four years ago, but I wish I’d started taking them 10 years ago. You never know what life can be like on the other side of healing, until you’re finally there.
Having been trained as a therapist, I knew the criteria for a formal diagnosis of Anxiety with Panic Attacks. However, when this showed up in my own daily life, I couldn’t process what was happening in my body or understand where it was coming from.
Honestly, I felt controlled by it. The ongoing fear I felt was a part of my everyday life, underneath everything I did, always running in the background. And when that fear would break through to the surface it would explode as panic. I would cry and feel confused and rushed, like life was spinning 3x as fast.
I just had this ongoing uncertainty.
It was so difficult to make decisions, and at times it felt difficult to do literally anything. I wasn’t scared like seeing a spider or being afraid of the dark or of public speaking, I just had this ongoing uncertainty.
Should I do this? Should I take this job? What will this person think? How am I going to make it? What if I can’t pay my bills? What if I’ve done all this work for nothing? What if my boss doesn’t like my work? And on and on the what-ifs went.
[Everything felt] confused and rushed, like life was spinning 3x as fast.
This wasn’t the first time I’d felt something in my body that I didn’t understand. When I was in 4th grade, I joined a basketball team at the YMCA. For some reason when we would all run during practice, I could never catch my breath. I couldn’t keep up with the other kids, and I would have to stop and go sit with my mom instead of running with my teammates.
I didn’t understand why I couldn’t keep up with everyone, all I knew is that after only a minute or two I would lose my breath and have to stop. I was a very active kid, and generally in good health, so I didn’t think it was a matter of simply building up entrance.
Yet, at times I would push so hard to keep up and just feel like crying because it was so hard to breathe. It would be 10 years before a physician would prescribe me an inhaler. I asked my sister, who is a doctor, if I should get tested just to make sure. She said, “Does the inhaler work?,” and I said, “Yes! I didn’t know lungs could work like that!!!”
My body simply couldn’t make up the difference.
With asthma, there was something in my physical body that wasn’t working properly, but when I finally used an inhaler it was like someone gave me a new set of lungs.
I had a completely new capacity for breathing that I didn’t have when I was just pushing through and trying as hard as I could. Without an inhaler, my body simply couldn’t make up the difference.
The same was true for me when I finally decided to try anxiety medication.
After that fateful morning in my car calling my boss, I went home and then felt fine. I was so perplexed by how I could be in such a state of panic one moment and completely fine the next, since all my stressors were gone at that point.
I relied on my previous training, and it finally clicked in my brain what was happening. I listed the symptoms, heavy breathing, heart racing, crying, fear, sweating, and I realized I’d just had a panic attack. Not only that, but I’d been having them for years. “Maybe I need anxiety medication.” I finally admitted to myself.
What I could look at compassionately and judgmentally for my therapy clients, I could not see for myself.
All the effort in the world wasn’t making my situation all that much better. My body kept running on empty, and everything I was doing to try to succeed still felt like I was starting from behind.
I’d already been to a couple of years of my own therapy at this point. In therapy, I learned coping skills, made some pretty significant life changes, and had been working hard on myself towards growth. But even with all that emotional growth, my body was still having a hard time keeping up.
Just like my lungs, all the effort in the world wasn’t making my situation all that much better. My body kept running on empty, and everything I was doing to try to succeed still felt like I was starting from behind.
When I take medication, I still need coping skills, support from my community, and I still need to be kind and compassionate with myself.
I still have anxious moments, but I no longer feel like I’m starting from behind trying desperately to catch up.
I will never forget the first pill I took for anxiety. I was on my way to work, being late once again, and instead of feeling panic the whole way there, my brain said, “that’s ok.”
Immediately the other part of my brain incredulously said, “What do you mean, ‘THAT’S OK’?!?!. Nothing has ever been ok!”
My brain was so used to feeling fear and panic it couldn’t comprehend this new and foreign, “it’s going to be ok,” mentality. I didn’t know brains could work that way!
I’ll never go back to life without the help my body is desperately trying to tell me we need.
Medication alone didn’t make everything better, solve all my problems, or make any of my stressors go away. For asthma- when I have my inhaler, I know I can run faster and longer, but I am still the one that has to motivate myself to get to the gym.When I take anxiety medication, I still need coping skills, support from my community, and I still need to be kind and compassionate with myself.
For me, medication helped my body calm down and get out of hyperdrive, which allowed me to have more brain space to work on myself in therapy and more freedom, health, and happiness in my daily life.
I’ll never forget the compassion my boss showed me that day, and I’ll never go back to life without the help my body is desperately trying to tell me we need.
Diana Kirby, MS is a UX Designer, and a Consultant for small businesses and mental health organizations. She is passionate about empowering others, winning the argument that all dogs should be called babies, reducing stigma surrounding mental health issues, and fostering creativity and authenticity in others and in herself.
dianamkirby.org
LinkedIn: diana-kirby
Portions of this article were originally published on The Becoming Counseling’s blog when I was contracted there.
