Skip to main content

Anxiety: It might not be what you think

"I am strong.  I endure.  I overcome. "Anxiety Issues" do not apply to me!"


I had misconceptions about the word "anxiety".


It's true, it can mean simply worrying about things beyond one's control.

But extreme anxiety as a response to trauma or stress, is so much more than that.


As a person who has prided herself on perseverance and being strong, my first anxiety attack caught me off guard and stung my pride... a lot.


I had just gone through an extremely difficult and emotionally traumatic experience, so not sleeping made sense to me.

The pain in my chest, inability to breathe, and numbness didn't make sense to me.

I had a few of them in the days following the experience, but eventually they went away.

A few years passed and I felt I had left that all behind me. I truly thought it would be an isolated experience due to the trauma.


I was wrong.


Recently, after growing stress from my job, and let's face it, the year 2020, I felt my ability to handle stress weaken.

This was frustrating for me as I like to believe in "mind over matter".

A few weeks ago, I sat through an intensely difficult situation.

I went numb, could barely breathe or speak and used every ounce of my strength to "hold it together" until I could leave.

I got to my car and wailed. Weeping, sobbing and struggling to breathe.

This response made sense to me based on what had happened and I went home, and accepted the outpouring of love and support from my family.

Days went by and I found I was sort of ok.


Until I wasn't.


I was enjoying a quiet moment, my family had gone to bed and I was sitting, curled up with a blanket, reading, just savoring the quiet for a moment.


My thoughts went to what had happened a few weeks earlier. 

I didn't dwell on it, I just thought about it, for a second.

My chest started to hurt. Sharp, stabbing pain near my heart, followed by a strong ache, through to my back, shooting pain down my arms, up my neck and numbness in my fingers and legs.

It scared me, which made me feel panicked, which made everything worse.

I got up to go to our room to get my husband and tell him I was having a heart attack, but collapsed on the floor. 

I couldn't move for a while, in intense pain. 

I laid there for what felt like several minutes but was probably more like several seconds, scared and trying to focus on making myself breathe, trying to relax and "calm down" and reduce the panicky feeling from the pain I was experiencing.

When I could, I walked to our room, and woke my husband.

He is an EMT and asked me all the things he would a patient and told me I wasn't having a heart attack.


I cannot say this loud enough.

The pain from the attack was physical pain

The panic I felt was a result of PHYSICAL pains at the surface level and deep within my body.


It took a while for it to go away.

I drifted off to sleep finally, with just tightness in my chest and jaw. 

I woke up the next morning with hives everywhere. It woke me up because it itched and hurt all at once.

I like things to make sense and it seemed more logical to me that I was having an allergic reaction to something. Anxiety or physical response to stress doesn't seem to make as much sense to my brain.

The hives still haven't gone away as I write this. 

We are on day 6.

Accepting that emotional trauma, stress, or difficult and tense situations could trigger a physical response made me mad. It felt like I was giving "them" power. 

The truth is, it's not about just an isolated situation or experience.


I am sharing this for a few reasons.

The word anxiety gets overused these days and I completely understand the trivializing of it because of this. 

If someone says "my anxiety is getting bad", we write it off as they are weaker, too sensitive, playing the victim or simply worry too much.

The truth is, there are many different types of anxiety and responses to stress.

It's true, we can overthink and worry about things we shouldn't, causing a stress response, but it is important to know that this is not all anxiety is.


As humbling as it is for me to admit that I haven't been "strong enough" to handle stress and control anxiety, it has been good to learn that I am not alone.

In fact, it has been surprising to learn of how many have struggled with physical responses to stress.

For a multitude of reasons and from all different ages and walks of life, people have shared their struggles with physical stress response and anxiety with me. 

They share it privately once they've seen me share about mine publicly. 

It is hard to not feel shame, and there is a stigma associated with the word "anxiety" that prevents people from sharing their experience.


I get it.

I feel like I have failed somehow and that I should be able to "snap out of it".

Being told to just "stop worrying" is almost hysterical to me.

Like, wow, really? How come I never thought of that?!

If you believe anxiety attacks are simply worrying and obsessing over things beyond one's control, this blog is for you.

I used to be you.

I tried to sympathize with those who mentioned they were struggling with anxiety to things that I didn't understand, but I just didn't get it.

I can't even tell you how many times people would share with me experiences they were struggling with and having anxiety from and think to myself, "Wow, I have endured much worse than them...why haven't I had this trouble?" 

Sometimes it all catches up with you.

Sometimes it is triggered by the most unexpected thing.

Some of what it feels like for me is what deep grief feels like. 

They are not the same, but there are definite similarities.

If you haven't felt either of these, be thankful.

I wouldn't wish it on anyone.

As painful as it is to admit any of this, and as painful as it is to experience deep physical response to stress or grief, I am thankful to have been humbled in this way. 

I hope my experience can open the eyes of others or even help encourage those who are going through similar pain to know they aren't alone.

You may never experience deep grief or anxiety or physical response to stress.

I hope you don't.

You don't have to understand something to be kind towards those experiencing it.


Anxiety attacks are most definitely not what I ever though they were.

Stress has a far deeper impact on your mental, emotional, and physical health than I could have imagined.

I am trying to learn how to be honest about this, and working to find ways to overcome and heal.

These things don't happen overnight, the stress buildup didn't happen overnight, but acknowledging what it is and prioritizing your health is a good place to start.

I am learning all the time.




For a few years now, I have ignored signals from my body.

Suddenly realizing I am clenching my jaw, grinding my teeth.

Inability to sleep.

On and on are the things I could list that now make sense to me.

I ignored them because I was enduring.

I was "being strong".

Our bodies tell us what we need to know.

Listen.

It's still true: I am strong. I endure. I am an overcomer. 

Anxiety attacks don't diminish this.

I am tough but I also have limitations. 

I am working to accept this and listen to my body a little better.










<script async src="https://pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js?client=ca-pub-2714889844289291"

     crossorigin="anonymous"></script> 

Comments

Popular Posts

Finding My Birth Mom Part 1: Searching

I've always known I was adopted. I am so thankful for this because it saved me from a lot of struggle throughout my childhood.  I will forever be grateful to my parents for being up front about that. Here's my little story.  My parents were told they couldn't have children so they started an adoption journey.... they planned to save for a while but then I was born and suddenly they had a daughter!  A few months later, they discovered my mom was pregnant!  My sister and I are 14 months apart. I never once felt resentment to being adopted or hurt and rejected by my birth Mom.  I always had a sense that it was exactly what was supposed to be.   Even still.... throughout the years, I felt a yearning to know her. As a child I would sometimes lay awake at night, wondering about my birth mom.  Did she think about me? When my birthday happened every year, I always wondered if she was thinking of me that day. Was she happy?  Did I have half siblings? Did she want to know a

When I met Grant

I remember the day I met Grant Campbell.  I was checking on my son who was playing in the yard at our new house.  As I rounded the corner, I saw him talking over the fence to a guy I didn't know.  The guy was very tall, had tattoos head to toe and I was instant nervous-mama. I should have known that my sweet child was a better judge of character than I was.  That man he was chatting with was Grant Campbell, our neighbor and later our friend. A few days after, Grant and his wife Michelle brought over a little "welcome to the neighborhood" gift and that's when the friendship was born. They became fast friends.  The guys would go shooting, us girls would have daily chats, coffee and shopping trips together.  They eventually moved from next to us to across the street.  How fun it was to help them plan out their dreams for this house! There were many hours of dinners, chats, phone calls over the next years that created a deep bond between us. Then one day the

Yes, Go to that Funeral. It's Important!

I know people who say "I don't go to funerals". I get it. Sometimes they are uncomfortable. Sometimes they are painful. No one WANTS to feel those things, but I want to tell you why it's important and valuable to be there during those times. First of all, funerals aren't for the deceased, they are for the ones left behind. The ones who loved the deceased. The ones who are faced with loss. Let me tell you what your presence at a funeral can mean. It can mean "I am here because I care about you and the loss you are feeling" It can mean " I am here because the person who has passed meant a lot to me" It can mean "I am here because I've felt a similar pain". You may think your presence at a day like this doesn't have an impact but I can tell you from experience that it does. Those who take time to come share in a last farewell mean more to the family than can be put in to words. Even if you don't k

Think twice before you talk to someone about their weight

I recently had someone comment about my weight.... I have gained about 30 pounds in the last months and I started this year doing something about it... but when this person made her comment.... I wanted to scream, cry and of course, eat. When you  comment on someone's weight even if it is in "concern" for them, you are putting them in one of these situations. 1) They feel great the way they are, confident actually, and attractive and now you've cast doubt on all that. 2) They are already self conscious about it and you just made them feel worse. 3) They are aware they are over weight, are already on a diet or exercise plan but now you've made them question whether or not to continue because they don't want you to think they are losing it for you! You know those snide comments or "joking" comments you slip into conversation?  Yea, you're not that sneaky and they can still hurt! Weight is a very personal thing and unfortunately a str

Meeting My Birth Mom Part 2: The Gifts

After the initial meeting and conversation with my Bio Mom and her Husband, we met again to spend a majority of the following day together. This day didn't start as smoothly as the first, but there were still so many parts of the day that were like little gifts for me to open. Throughout this period of time of getting to know one another, I was able to see glimpses into the life of my bio grandparents and mom.  This is a gift I treasure. I was able to learn of some of the hardships that were overcome by previous generations and present ones.  A gift. I heard tales of tragedy, redemption and growth.  A gift. It's like I was taken on a little journey of continued discovery about the threads that make up part of the fabric that I am, that my Bio Mom is, and where some of our strength to endure comes from. Even as she would tell stories about her parents and grandparents, hearing her tell them, gave me more clarity on who she is as well. How she remembers things, how sh