"We don't get to choose the life we have...but we have the privilege to choose how we live it."
I looked around the room and pieces of paper torn to shreds and eraser shavings were all around me. I was laying on my parent's floor reading "Arthur" taking breaks in between writing my spelling words. Letter by letter I carefully wrote each word perfecting each and every circle and line that accompanied each letter. "That 'O' is not perfectly round!" *erase erase* "The line on the 'A' is not perfectly straight or aligned with the other side!" *erase erase* Two hours and ten spelling words later stacks of torn papers, broken pencils and five erasers used to the wood laid before me. The thoughts of perfection screaming in my head caused thirty papers to be erased to the point that only the border of the paper was left. I couldn't take these thoughts in my head. I couldn't turn them off. In between each spelling word frustration would get the best of me and I would resort to reading my book. However, I couldn't get through one word without saying the word to my mind's standards. "My pronunciation is off," "The exclamation point was not heard well enough at the end of the sentence!" "Sarah just get one word right." "Sarah you can't do anything right." "Sarah you are not smart." I would then move to the spelling words, but my mind would get the best of me again. I went back and forth between reading and writing for hours.I was six years old.
I was too embarrassed to talk to anyone about what was going on in my mind and to be honest I didn't even know what was going on in my mind. Thoughts of perfection haunted absolutely everything I did. I screamed in silence into my pillow and in the school bathroom because I couldn't bear the thought, at six years old, to be thought of as different than anyone else. No matter what I did at school or home it wasn't good enough for myself. The better I did at one thing the worse I was doing at everything else. No progress was ever made according to my mind. If I made one mistake I might as well have not started the activity in the first place. My parents started to notice my abnormal negative attitude towards myself and took me into a psychologist. When I found out why I was there and the doctor started talking to me I completely lost it. I couldn't be different. I didn't need help. It was my fault I was acting this way and no one else's. I was fine. I was fine. I was fine. After many tearful visits the psychologist got on my level and explained to me he thought I had something called, "obsessive compulsive disorder." He explained to me that this was a disorder of the brain that causes severe anxiety resulting in actions that weren't typical of myself. He prescribed medication and left the room. My parents tried so hard every morning to force me to take that medication. Many fights broke out over this because at this point in my life I thought I didn't need it. What if someone saw me taking medicine? What if someone found out and asked me about it? What would I say? What lie would I give? I took my pill in my pocket to school every morning and threw it in the neighbor's bushes on my way out the door. It didn't take long for my parents to notice a trail of little blue pills leading into the neighbor's bushes.
After many long hard mornings and the power of prayer I began taking my medicine. I continued to lead a normal life and felt back to myself again. At the age of 12 I was doing so well that they discontinued my medication. I didn't think twice about my past and continued learning and loving school, family and my friends. However, anxiety always has a way of creeping back up on you. It's not always in the same form, but I have found if you are not constantly getting help or treating yourself it won't go away. It's easier to constantly maintain a clear mindset than to go through 'anxiety binges' every weeks or months. Trust me.
I was seventeen and I had the world at my finger tips. Cute clothes, cute boyfriend, amazing friends, easy classes and a loving family. However, my mindset started to fail me once more. Little assignments and simple conversations would send my mind running to the point that I felt mentally crazy. My mind would stop and fixate itself on something so little and simple, but i couldn't concentrate on anything else to save my life. Trying to push it aside gave me physical body tensions such as squeezing my hands, arms, feet and legs. I would clench my jaw so tight my tooth aches turned into chronic migraines. When these obsessive thoughts would come I would jerk my body without even realizing it and stomp my feet, kick my legs and throw my arms trying to get physically get rid of the mental thoughts that were in my head. Every day these body tensions and thoughts would get worse until one day I lost it. I was laying in bed trying to sleep and one simple thought about myself would not leave my mind. I tossed and turned trying to get my body tired enough to sleep so that I wouldn't have to deal with my mind or my thoughts. My legs started to shake and my hands went completely numb. My face started to tingle and my arms started to flail in the air. Pretty soon my whole body was shaking uncontrollably and I started to scream and cry louder than I ever had before. My parents slept in the room next to me and after hearing my piercing screams came rushing in. My mother deals with depression and anxiety as well, however she had never experienced a panic attack before. No one knew what I was going through and I was completely scared out of my mind in the terror of now not only being able to not control my mind, but my body as well. It got progressively worse and I woke up in the emergency room. Being a teenage girl and already caring so much what everyone thought about me having the doctors and nurses asking me psychological evaluation questions was more than I could handle. I left the emergency room the next morning with a note to seek a counselor and anxiety medication once more. Thoughts of my childhood anxiety came flooding into my mind for the first time and it only increased my anxiety.
I thought I would be fine, but I wasn't. The anxiety attacks only kept coming and after I would have an episode I would lay on my floor screaming and crying because I was so mad at myself that I 'let' it happen again. Not many people know what it's like to lay on the floor screaming night after night begging for the Lord to take you into His hands because you can't mentally handle your life and your thoughts. Being dead would be much better than another week of relentless thoughts and mind games.
My parents sought out counselors and programs in the area. My panic attacks were so severe that I wasn't eating, sleeping and I was talking about thoughts of suicide. A counselor was found in the area and my parents brought me to her. To be honest, I completely hated her. She was so blunt to the point I felt she didn't care what I was going through or how I felt. When I explained my thought processes to her and my reasons I felt justified to feel the way that I did she wouldn't hear it. I got so offended that I refused to see her. My parents did not want to give up on her however so they would literally carry me into the car every week and drive me there while I was screaming and crying. This continued on for months and I hated her more and more every week. One week when I was visiting with her (by visiting I mean sitting on the floor of her office bawling my eyes out telling her how mean she was) she told my parents about a program called Dialectal Behavior Therapy. Teenagers and their parents would meet with a group of therapists every week and learn a set of skills that would help them to become their own therapists. The goal of this DBT program is to help you to help yourself. It helps you manage your thoughts and emotions before they take over your mind so that you feel in control and also to help you feel like yourself again. My parents made me a deal that if I went to DBT therapy for a month and met with this therapist every week for this month that I was going to therapy I could quit therapy for good. I gladly accepted this. I knew I needed help, but just like in first grade I hated going to therapy for the sole reason of feeling different. I didn't want anyone to find out that I had problems. I was so worried what everyone would think of me. Either they would think of my anxiety as 'just stress and no big deal' or they would see me as a mental patient who didn't belong in the real world.
At school no one knew what was going on. No one knew I even had a problem. I was very good at faking my personality until I got home and broke down. I would still see friends and kept up in my extra curricular activities. It took so much out of me just to go to school and fake a smile, but it was worth it to me to keep my problems to myself so no one would figure out what I was going through. I would go from having suicidal thoughts and panic attacks at night to pretending to smile and laugh with my friends at school.
I remember the first week of DBT. I looked around the room and judged all of the other teens in the room thinking they must be complete wack-o's for needing this treatment. The first day of therapy we learned a skill called, "mindfulness." THIS SKILL COMPLETELY CHANGED MY LIFE. Keep in mind that I did not want to be there more than anyone in the world. My mindset had not changed about therapy or my therapist. I completely hated life because I was there, but something about this skill changed me. (Please read the section about mindfulness posted below)
I continued the DBT and seeing my therapist every week without putting up a fight. Dare I say it...I looked forward to going to DBT because I could see progress in myself. I didn't see an overnight change, but as long as I practiced the skills I was being taught my anxiety lessened a little every week and my panic attacks grew fewer and fewer. In my therapy session every week we would go over what we learned in DBT the previous week and how it directly applied to me. I would report to her how often I had used the skills of the previous week and if I had been keeping up on all of the other previous skills. It was at this point in my life that I got diagnosed with severe depression and anxiety including OCD, PTSD and panic attacks.
Through months and months of therapy I started to see a change in myself. The change was exciting and I agreed to go onto medication to help further relief from my symptoms. After over a year of therapy and graduating from the DBT program I felt like myself again. No, none of my symptoms had gone away. I still dealt with constant thoughts spinning in my mind literally every second and the urge to have a panic attack at least every hour, but I knew how to handle myself. I had built a toolbox and filled it with skills to regulate and control my emotions and actions.
Now, many years later, I still deal with intense anxiety and depression. None of my symptoms have fully gone away. It takes absolutely everything that I have to get myself out of bed in the mornings and convince myself to go to school. It takes every fiber of my being to continue on one more day because I know exactly how hard it's going to be. I know that the minute I wake up thoughts will flood my mind and the anxiety and depression will start to sink in. I still suffer from panic and anxiety attacks. I don't expect my anxiety and depression to ever go away and for once in my life I can say that I am okay with that. I am okay with that because I see progress each and every day and I know how to regulate myself and my emotions so that I can live a normal life- and I do that. Every single day. I am still on medications and visit with the same amazing therapist once a week and guess what- NOTHING IS WRONG WITH THAT. I have come to realize through my skills that it is not a character flaw to seek help. It is a complete blessing to have these helps available so that we can be ourselves.
I am Sarah Ann, wife to the most amazing husband in the world, sister to 3 beautiful supportive sisters, daughter to two amazing and determined parents, and patient of a therapist who saved my life. But most importantly I am a daughter of God and I know that these trials were put in my life for a reason. I would not be anywhere close to who I am today without these trials and obstacles that I face every minute of every day. I thank my Heavenly Father that He is there to talk to and listen with understanding and compassion 24/7. I am living proof that although anxiety doesn't necessarily go away, it can be overcome.
"We don't get to choose the life we have...but we have the privilege to choose how we live it."
***Please keep in mind this blog contains my personal thoughts and feelings and what helped me. I am not labeling this as doctrine or saying this is what everyone with anxiety goes through or that this will help everyone. Please keep your comments kind and positive***