Anxiety Archives - Page 2 of 2

This past week, despite all Instagram indications to the contrary, was a very hard anxious week for me.

It should have been calm and lovely. But that’s the thing about anxiety. “Despite all indications to the contrary,” should be its slogan.

Because anxiety is tricky. It’s different than it’s partner-in-crime worry, because worry is reasonable.

But anxiety pops up just because. Because it can.

I’ve had anxiety for as long as I can remember — the kind that made first grade unbearable. The kind that made me worry about my grandparents and baby sister when I should have been learning spelling words and subtraction.

It’s taken me a long time to realize that the two things anxiety needs most are love and humor.

But these things can help too:

What anxiety needs

Anxiety needs space to go inside. No questions, and (Geez Louise) no requests for answers to anything, and that includes what I want on a pizza.

It needs soft words and open arms, but maybe not hugs right now, because I’m currently being slowly crushed by my own chest. So please.

And never loud music. Neither Mumford and Sons nor Fun. Although some Ingrid Michaelson might be nice later. It’ll let you know.

Anxiety needs to know that the people I love are there, but that they don’t really need anything right now.

(Because anxiety is selfish and rude, and trust me, I hate that enough for the both of us.)

Because it needs me to be able to disappear for just a minute. So if you see me blocking things out, it’s because I need a break, but I might already be in too deep to ask for it.

Because anxiety needs to sneak up on you apparently.

Anxiety doesn’t need a reason, by the way. And it’s no one’s fault.

It’s doesn’t need you to fix anything.

It doesn’t need you to diagnose anything or figure out where it came from. (Moon cycles, or hormonal cycles or bicycles or icicles?)

Speaking of which, sometimes, anxiety needs carbs, and it doesn’t want to hear about it.

Chocolate can help, but caffeine usually doesn’t.

Magnesium and lavender and Rescue Remedy might.

(Talking to a doctor might. It’s OK, I promise.)

But then again, sometimes it’s just a matter of time. Until something magical shifts back again.

(Do you see how frustrating this is?)

Anxiety doesn’t need you to try to understand, but I do.

Maybe you do too?

I should tell you that this post is not a replacement for medical advice. I’m not a doctor, but I do deal with anxiety sometimes, And I today I wanted to talk about it with you. If you deal with anxiety too, I’m sending a hug and loads of support, but if you need more than that, PLEASE don’t be afraid to reach out to a professional and ask for it. I promise it can help.

Much love,

Kara

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I feel like I should tell you about my table.

It came to me like this:

I made a space for it.

It was last Monday actually, and I was feeling very “life-is-so-out-of-our-control.”

{I’ve been working on that lately — rolling with it.}

I will let things be out of control, I say to myself, while purging my closet, because I am not good at this yet.

I am trying.

But at the same time that I’ve been trying, I came across this book, which really is life-changing, as long as you count how my dresser drawers look with all my clothes folded into cubes as life-changing.

(I haven’t read the whole thing yet.)

In it, she talks about stuff, and we all know this already, right? That stuff controls us and such?

I think it probably does. Less stuff definitely helps me feel calmer.

I am a big fan of clear, empty spaces.

I love for things to “have a home.”

I believe that a cluttered desk does indeed lead to a cluttered mind; that a cluttered garage leads to a cluttered liver.

Or something.

And so, I’ve been purging. Not just because it’s spring, but probably in part because it’s spring.

I started with my bedroom, and cleared out an alarming amount of stuff: 4 Goodwill boxes; 3 bags of recycling and 2 bags of trash.

I’m sorry. I love our planet, but nobody wants my holey socks. And I will not force my children to make puppets out of them.

I just won’t.

So I boxed the books, and tried to find breathing room in a place that is supposed to bring calm and respite, or at least Netflix and sleep.

And as I decluttered, my wont for an actual beside table came back.

And so I acknowledged that feeling, and continued dragging junk down the stairs and out to the car.

And when, just a few days later, my aunt told me that my grandma had a small table she was getting rid of and would I want it? I knew. I knew it was going to be perfect.

And it is. It fits in the smallish spot between my bed and my husband’s dresser. It is just right for a few books (not all the books, Kara) and a cup of tea.

And it makes me feel good, and it reminds me how much we all need a thing.

(Not all the things, but a thing.)

We need things that help us feel good, and we need to do the things that help us feel good.

Those should be priorities, just as much as taking care of our families and paying bills.

Really. We have only one time to do this, and you know — we should get to enjoy it.

And so I sat down this weekend and made a little list of the things that are making me genuinely happy right now:

tea
this lavender spray
this chocolate
books

Little things.

And a table.

And decluttering, I guess, although no matter what the book says, I will not start talking to my shoes or caressing my books.

I just won’t.

~::~

My friend told me once that we all need a thing. We need a go-to thing that we know will bring us joy.

Because life has bumpy spots.

It doesn’t have to be something expensive or fancy.

It can be a cozy blanket; or a favorite mug — a pastry from the coffee shop, or a song.

It can be a table, I think.

The perfect kind of chocolate …

A television show that makes you laugh …

But I hope you know your thing.

I didn’t for a while.

But I’m glad I’m clearing the way to discover it.