Guess what I did today?!? I had a virtual therapy session with my therapist, Dr L. Since our house is too big to have good wifi in all rooms but not big enough to talk uninhibited without being heard I made everyone go outside for an hour and sat 4 feet from the router.
It was so lovely to see her pretty face. What a relief to be with someone who listens to me from the best side of myself. I know I'm cranky and feisty and easily tested. I know I can be selfish when pushed too far and my empathetic side can be lacking with those I love most. And yet she still listens to me like the real me is loving, empathetic and strong.
With her input I'm pondering a new way of looking at the panic attacks. When I feel the familiar Creep, what if I embrace the panic instead of trying to push it away? What if I say, 'Bring it on mother fuckers, I've survived a panic attack on a work conference call and it was embarrassing and uncomfortable and scary but I survived that and I can survive anything else.' In other words, what if I accept my panic and just let others see me for who I am? What if that is the definition of being vulnerable and real? Oh HELL NO, part of me screams. Just no. MorTiFiCaTion.
Except. What if I don't want to hide this anymore?
My anxiety attacks started when I was about 24. Husband #1 and I had just gotten married and moved to a new city and I had my first real job. I used to panic when I had to talk on the phone. Not if someone called me; only if I dialed out. One time leaving a message on my cousin's voicemail that I wanted to meet for dinner brought on a panic attack. Calls to clients or clients with problems were even worse. As if the phone calls weren't bad enough, I soon became terrified I would wet my pants. A wave of panic would wash over me, woooooooossshhhhh and I would be convinced I was going to pee all over my boss' car. When I was 24 I didn't tell anyone. Not Husband #1, not my sisters, not my parents or grandparents. I saw it as a weakness and something to be ashamed of so I struggled through. Eventually the panic attacks went away but the anxiety never really did though with therapy and medication I learned to recognize it and cope.
Fast forward to 2020, my panic attacks are intermittent but the fear looms and, after 20 years, I still struggle with feeling like something is wrong with me.
My friend Annie Rose suggested I share my anxiety with some co-workers on Monday after the panic attack. While I thought she could be right the horror of sharing seemed too intense and I didn't.
Dr L says exposure helps. She doesn't mean exposure to the instances that cause the anxiety, but exposure of myself to others. Exposing my anxiety on my secret blog where very few even know my name. Exposing my anxiety on calls where I feel The Creep coming. She suggested today to share my vulnerabilities with safe people who will respond with kindness. And ultimately, I need to be vulnerable in order to enjoy true love and happiness (per Brene Brown, and sorry Miss B if I fucked that message up).
Would you love me if I introduced myself as someone who suffered from anxiety disorder and had panic attacks? Would you think, 'Dang, that girl has issues. She must be fucking up her kids like she was fucked up.' Does it matter what others think? Of course not, but it's a reflection of what I think, and how I judge my own anxiety and self.
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