Dear Family: I know my anxiety sucks
Or, I wish I wasn’t like this but I am.
When we live with chronic or mental illness, we tend to get buried under how it affects our life: our pain, our losses, our struggles. But living with us isn’t easy either. Our children, parents, spouses, friends all struggle to understand and support us.
Our illnesses affect their lives, too.
Dear Family: I’m sorry.
When I can’t do something, my kids can’t do it either.
My calendar has the same two appointments repeated every week: Baby Story Time. Our local library holds two sessions each week, and I intend on visiting with my daughter for at least one. Every week. But I don’t.
The thought of walking into a room with strangers and my child worries me. I’ll go to the library any day of the week, but the idea of being in a group situation where I’m expected to talk and interact changes the dynamic.
It makes a safe space feels scary.
This isn’t just my struggle. My daughter is — thankfully — too young to realize that she is missing out on something. I make sure that we have other experiences as I can. One day she will be old enough to notice and be affected, so I need to get my shit together. She deserves it.
Dear Family: I want to give you everything that I’m not.
It’s not just our schedule that needs adjusted.
So many times I’ve made plans with family or friends to have that too-familiar feeling of hot flash-nausea-panic wave over me from my toes to the top of my head.
My breathing gets off kilter, and soon the dizziness kicks in. I have to lay down.
If this happens when I’m home alone, it’s actually easier because I’m only affecting my plans. If it happens when we have an appointment or an outing, I’m not the only one that has to change my schedule — and I hate it.
It’s another thing that is out of my control. I can’t fix it for myself which means I can’t fix it for my loved ones, and that is, honestly, harder to deal with.
They are late because of me.
They cancel plans because of me.
They learn to do things on their own because of me.
Dear Family: It’s embarrassing to me that you are affected this way.
Sometimes I don’t like my attitude.
My fiance and I have a system of key words and phrases that tells him how I am doing without long explanation.
“I don’t feel well” means “I’m about to have a panic attack.”
Most times he can pick up on these clues long before I even realize that I’m giving them. Other times, I skip the typical clues and go straight for the attitude.
I become rude when I’m scared. And I don’t realize it.
My responses get shorter because I am focusing so much of my attention on keeping it together, but it looks like I’m being snappy.
My reactions aren’t justified because I’m hyper sensitive to sound and light. Sensory overload doesn’t stop it from looking like I’m jumping to conclusions.
I tend to want to be both left alone and in the room with someone, so I send mixed signals. It’s confusing to me as much as it is to others.
Dear Family: I’m difficult to read, and I know it.
And I don’t know how to fix it.
I’m not happy with these situations, believe me. I don’t like that I put them through the highs and lows of my illness. (I haven’t even touched how my chronic pain affects them.)
I want a different life for them as much — or more — as I do for myself.
But they love me anyway.
They speak softly to me. They text me when I can’t talk. They sit quietly when I just need someone in the room. And they wait. They wait until I am better.
They know that I’ll get better even if I don’t at the time.
Dear Family: I couldn’t do this without you.
If you love someone with anxiety or panic disorder…
Keep in mind that they don’t want this kind of life for you. They worry about how it affects you as much as how it affects them.
They love you, even if they can’t show it.
Here are a few tips to try:
- Pay attention to the clues your loved one gives you when an attack starts. You may be able to identify a pattern.
- Realize that things aren’t static. One attack may lead to wanting to be held while another may make touch too overwhelming. Follow their lead.
- Don’t act like it is normal or that it doesn’t affect you. We know it does. Belittleing and guilt don’t work, but neither do pretending it doesn’t exist. Talk to us about your frustrations. We’ll feel more open to talking to you about ours.
How does anxiety affect your life? Do you struggle with it, or is it someone that you love who is battling the sneaky ninja?
I’d love to hear your story. Please share it with me in the comments below or on social media such as Twitter. We are stronger together. Let’s build a community.
And don’t forget to clap if you enjoyed this article! Your support will help me reach more people with my message that they are not alone.
Stephanie Pitcher Fishman is a writer, blogger, and mom living with chronic illness, a mid-life baby, and a coffee addiction. She writes about fake people (fiction), dead people (family history and genealogy), and sick people (herself included.) Read more at writerbloggermom.com, and don’t forget to say hi on Twitter.
