I left Facebook not because I don't care about my friends on it. Not because I wanted to lose touch. But because for me it became "Fakebook." And it made me feel bad about myself. Not to anyone else's fault. It was how I saw it. I saw everyone's happy life. Everyone's smiling pictures. Everyone's "best day ever!" And I was at fault too. Who posts real life? Who posts the real stuff? Very few people do and I left and I am ok with that. It has taken me a long time to get to this point. I don't know why. I have encouraged other people to this place. I have been a sounding board. But for me. I am not sure why. I don't think it is shame or stigma. It lives deep within me. It was a seed planted when I was little and it grew and grew. And it just got too big for me. I remember first being anxious when I was less than 9 years old. I do not remember my exact age only that I know it was before 9. I didn't know it was anxiety but feeling that way other times in my life after I knew the word, I figured it out. I had my first panic attack in 2002. Right after we lost Ben. I was in a grocery store. Surrounded by babies. They were all over. They were looking at me. Every single one of them. I thought I was dying. I couldn't breathe. Fast forward. 2007-ish I am at the Drs because I feel wrong. I can't get anything done. I don't feel I am doing my best at anything....work, mommyhood, wifeness, life....It is the first time I have asked for help. My Dr. gives me a list if therapists. I start looking through the list and cross referencing with my insurance plan. No one. Out of pocket. 100$ an hour? At this point, it may as well been a million. I dug in (because I am stubborn) and figured, I have done it before, I can do it again. I can do this. Another fast forward. 2012....in Drs office. I have found a Physician's assistant who listens to me. I am crying. I can't do this. Time number 2 I have asked for help. I can't sleep. I THINK all the time. I WORRY all the time. My mind is always going. I can't sit and read (which I LOVE to do) because I am worrying about something, someone....She prescribes me some medicine. I am ambivalent. I am skeptical. I am worried. She asks me to try. I say ok. I try. I try taking it at night and it keeps me awake. I call her. I start taking it in the morning. I can think. I can sleep. I worry - but I don't worry to the point that I am a worry puddle. A cough isn't pneumonia. I fever that won't go away isn't leukemia. A tic bite isn't lyme disease (I will save THAT story for another day). I have anxiety. I am dealing with my anxiety. I take medication and I talk to other people who suffer from it. I still have not found a therapist (although I have not looked in a while) . Instead I have my family,my circle of few friends, a bible study group....
So thank you Ali....for helping and even though you didn't know it, challenging me to be real.
xo~M
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| My new daily reminder....I absolutely LOVE it |
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| Everyone can use a little help being happier! Bring it on, Gretchen! |
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