Due to the pandemic, the subject of mental health has been placed even more into the public eye. I feel we’ve finally been pushed out onto the stage and forced to see our humanity. If everyone was already experiencing unclaimed general anxiety disorder, thoughts of dying by unseen deadly bugs pushed us overboard.
I told my therapist I’d be very curious to know what new Isms or Ologies came from this forced community prison term. Because they’re coming.
Having already finally conceded to medication after a sudden hormonally triggered panic attack 2 years prior, the lockdown had me asking my healthcare provider to raise my dose. But for those who still can’t concede to having anxiety and depression, let me tell you what I remember about my mental state during those days.
When my anxieties were driving, everything that I looked at had to do with me. Every waking thought was about my inabilities, my shortcomings, and my lacks.
The things that were broken needed fixing. That relationship limping along and in need of therapy. That crack in the wall, that pile of wrinkled laundry, or that unfinished DIY project that made me feel like a failure before I even started. My kid was sick and somehow that was my fault because I was a substandard parent. I was failing to keep my world under control.
Anxiety was my identity for so long. I thought everything would fall apart if I stopped feeling it. Like a toddler, the world was my construct and I was at the center. Our fear has us believing all of this so that we can keep running the fix it scrambled script.
But when I quelled the pouncing thoughts and I put fear into the back of the bus, I was given a new power. The power to be present and be responsible for what I truly could be. My combination of prescription medicine and applying all of the knowledge I had earned from therapy. That is some mighty healing medicine.
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