I'm going to share my story in the hopes that it might help someone else out there. Everyone's situation is different but my hope is that sharing my story will help someone else figure out their own path to overcoming anxiety. This is not an easy thing to do as being vulnerable is difficult for me. I have no wish to be seen as a victim. I also realize that if certain friends or members of my family read this, it will upset them, but helping others is important to me so I hope they will understand.
I grew up in a home with dysfunction. Thick layers of it. There was, at least for me, emotional, psychological and verbal abuse. "Stupid, ugly, worthless" was thrown around frequently and that's what I believed about myself. When you hear that, it affects not only the way you see yourself but how your brain is wired. Waking up with a feeling of "what hell am I in for today" was my daily experience.
I had my first panic attack, that I remember, at about 13 or 14. I was swimming in a meet and completely broke down while I was in the pool. I couldn't even finish my event. It was pretty embarrassing as it happened in front of all my friends. Anyone who has had an attack in public can relate. It was pretty awful.
By the time I turned 18, I had had enough. I ran away from home. I packed up all my stuff and left while my parents were at work. My mom was shocked. She tried everything under the sun to get me to move back home. This included lying to me about a possible cancer diagnosis (this kind of behavior was common for her). I bunked with a friend for a couple of months while I paid some bills and got myself together as best I could. Then I moved east. My Dad and step-mom, Sherry took me in. I was a hot mess, to say the least.
It wasn't too much longer until I met the love of my life, Jay. We got engaged quickly and married a year later. So I dragged all that baggage into my marriage. I didn't even realize it was baggage. I honestly felt like I had put it all behind me - but I was very wrong. We started having children very quickly and we now have 6. The older kids, unfortunately, had to watch me slowly unravel.
See, when you don't face the ugly stuff from your past, it just hangs on.
I had struggled with crippling anger for years. I didn't know why. I didn't understand. I had a loving husband who wanted nothing but to see me happy and 6 beautiful kids. Why was I still waking up to the dread every day? Why was I going to bed, night after night, feeling like I had failed everyone in my life? Well, those old voices were still there. Nothing I ever did was right. Everything was tinged with failure and worthlessness. No matter what I did, no matter how hard I tried to shut it out, Mom and Bernie's voices were there, reminding me that nothing I ever did was good enough nor would it ever be.
In addition to this, the church we were attending at the time emphasized the fact that if you struggled with depression or anxiety, it was caused by you and you alone. Looking back at your childhood or any abuse in your past was a cop-out. Going to a psychiatrist or a psychologist was an absolute no-no. So, I got a prescription for anti-anxiety meds and started drinking. I hid this from everyone except my family. I felt overwhelming guilt over it but I also felt very stuck. I figured this was my life now. Just accept it and keep going.
When my oldest girls were teenagers, I got a call that Bernie, my primary abuser, was dying. I completely fell apart. Not because we were close or there was any love lost between us. Everything he had done to me started to come to the surface. Every abusive word, every nasty comment, all of it. I knew I had to face it but I just couldn't. So I started drinking more. Now I have Xanax, alcohol, and sleep meds in my system. It was an ugly combination.
I stopped going to church because I felt I couldn't handle the shame and guilt anymore. I prayed I wouldn't run into anyone from church while I was out. People that I had known for years pulled away from me which made things worse. Our marriage was starting to struggle, the last thing I wanted to happen. My girls were angry at me. They had tried to warn me. They told me if I didn't stop my destructive behavior, I would spiral out of control but I wasn't ready to listen. I was failing at everything.
After Bernie passed away, I knew things had to change. I couldn't avoid facing the past anymore. I could have ignored it, pushed it back down, tried to forget it but God wasn't going to let that happen this time.
So, one memory at a time I confronted it and put it behind me. This was a long, very painful process. My husband spent 2 years patiently listening to all of it, in spite of the fact that I wasn't even sure I wanted to be married. He helped me unravel everything and rewire my thinking. He looked up articles on dealing with PTSD. He was right by my side through the whole process, not only helping me but holding our relationship together.
Once I had started this process, I also started to put more focus on my relationship with God. I started reading my bible almost every day. In the process, God kept bringing more and more memories to the surface. One by one, every one of those bad memories and the bad wiring was completely remade.
A few years later, we moved south, away from all those toxic relationships. I really felt like I could start over. New people, new relationships. No one had to know about my struggles unless I chose to tell them.
Very soon after this, I discovered that the Xanax was no longer going to be an option. Coming off of it was something we had discussed but now I knew I had to do it. Weaning myself off of the meds was the hardest thing I've ever done. The withdrawal process was pretty awful.
One thing I did shortly after we moved was to a small Crossfit gym. This was one of the best decisions I've ever made in my life. I grew close to the people there and they took me in. It became my 2nd home and my 2nd family. They made me feel worthwhile and like I could accomplish anything. They checked on me, made sure I was coming in regularly and made sure I was staying sane through the process. These people are amazing and I don't know what I would have done without them.
When I was finally off of the meds, I felt free. The daily fatigue was gone. The side effects, which I had become numb to, were also gone. So were the panic attacks. I started to realize, probably for the first time in my life how a normal brain was supposed to function. My emotions normalized, a new experience for me. I started exercising, even more, and setting goals that were only for me and accomplishing them. I cleaned up my diet. I realized that there were A LOT of things that I shouldn't be eating. There is definitely a connection between the gut and the brain. I really hope that more people will realize this and make changes to improve their lives.
My whole life is so much better now that I'm not tethered to external things to get through my daily life.
For too many years, I saw myself as a victim but what God showed me was that victimhood is not empowerment. Victimhood might get you some pity which will feel good temporarily. When the pity runs out, you have to get another hit, so it perpetuates itself. Victimhood is weakness and doesn't heal anything. It drags the problem out and makes it worse.
I am an overcomer and a conqueror.
God meant for us to be "more than conquerors" because he loves us.
Romans 8:37 No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him that loved us.
If you are fighting the good fight, press on. Believe me, it's completely worth it!
