Airing my Dirty Laundry

Anxiety. I'm constantly in a state of OK what did I fuck up this time? Don't tell me I'm not a fuck up. Just don't. Stop. I know. If I was a fuck up I wouldn't be where I am today. You can't just tell me that and dust your hands off because, "problem solved. I made her feel better. I'm such a good friend." That's not how anxiety works.

If you're someone who hasn't suffered from an anxiety disorder or depression, let me explain this to you. You worry. Anxiety is not the same. Anxiety is not worry. We live in fear for our lives because our brain is in fight or flight mode. It feels like we need to watch our backs. Like we're being attacked or stalked by a predator. It's a primitive emotion that takes over our thoughts and our bodies. We lose our peripheral vision during a panic attack because when you're in the wild and escaping a predator that's trying to eat you, what's in your periphery is irrelevant. You have to focus on what's in front of you so you can get the fuck out of there. Our heart rate increases because we need more energy to get to our muscles. Our breathing becomes fast and shallow. All our thoughts stop and all we can think of is how do I escape? This happens even when there is nothing to escape from; even when there is nothing threatening our existence. Don't even ask about what we endure when something stressful occurs: something that might justify a panic attack to you, a mentally healthy person.

You get sad. Depression is not the same. Depression is not sadness. We live in a plane that is darker. Where gravity is stronger so you feel heavier. Where all the things that come so easily to you, like getting out of bed or taking a shower or breathing seem as unrealistic as that sci-fi show set in space you've been watching. Life is a series of uninteresting and pointless events. The monotony is endless. There is no hope. There is no point. Depression is dangerous. Depression kills. Sorrow does not.

We aren't extreme worriers or people who are sad all the time. We are people whose brains work differently from you. We are people whose illnesses are so stigmatized that we have to learn to suffer and fight ashamed and lonely. We are people who envy you because you are allowed to stay home from work when you have the flu but we aren't when our anxiety is so bad we are having multiple panic attacks a day or the depression is making it difficult for us to even move. We are people who are on medication so we feel like ourselves and can live a fulfilling life that doesn't involve fighting ourselves every minute of every day; so we can think of the future; so we don't have to live life in baby steps, one day at a time. But we have to keep it secret because we will always, always have people tell us how medication is bad for us because "those things mess with your brain" or they're addictive, or they're not good for you because... reasons. Or, how you have nothing so significant happening in your life like the death of a loved one or a terrible war to justify needing medications and God-forbid, therapy.

We are people whose silent and private suffering has given us a special superpower. The power of empathy. We are people who will feel your pain like it is our own. But we have very few people in our lives who can really understand ours. We are people who are beautiful, strong and brave. We are people who should be standing proud and tall because of all we have fought and conquered rather than cowering and hoping no one finds out our dirty secret. But we don't. We don't because we're constantly in a state of, what did I fuck up this time? Or, we're too busy drowning in apathy and darkness for it to even matter.

***

I was formally diagnosed with depression and anxiety a decade ago. But since then I've learnt lot about myself and the illnesses. I've also realized that anxiety and depression have been with me for a long, long time. I have always been anxious and I can remember depressive episodes going as far back as when I was nine. But just knowing that all those times I truly believed that my life had come to an end and I was taking everyone down with me were panic attacks, and the prolonged periods I found myself drowning in a dark sorrow that had no beginning or end were episodes of depression, has put my entire life into perspective. All of that wasn't me. I was not failing. I was fighting my brain chemistry.

Being anxious and depressed has made me a stronger person. It has turned me into someone determined to live and experience life. It has taken the fighter in me and made her louder and bolder. But that would have been impossible if I had not sought help. If I had not been held up by that odd unconditional love that only strangers who know nothing about your life, but everything about what is making you so sick can give you. I want to acknowledge them all and I want to remind them and others like us that none of us are truly alone.

I've wanted to write about my experiences of anxiety and depression as they come as a form of therapy for a while now. I am open about it with strangers and friends because I believe it should not be something you are ashamed of. But the stigma is strong. My so called "laundry" will be dirty for a long while, if not always.

So here I declare: I am an anxious person. That will never change. I am just wired that way and I'm okay with that because I have worked hard to learn how to live with it without letting it take over my life. I have had many depressive episodes. It makes me weak, and tired, and many times stupid because I cannot process the information I'm getting from outside. But it gives me a unique perspective of the universe and a depth of understanding of my own psyche that makes it, at the same time, my greatest strength.