Oh Anxiety, Bite Me

Somewhere in my 20s, I became aware of my addiction to worrying.

It's not like it's something I consciously choose to do, it's just the way I'm wired. Big things, small things, medium things. Doesn't seem to matter. I will always assume the worst.

Will my brother be okay if I have to cancel dinner plans (note: answer is almost always yes).
Will my client be able to open the WMV file I sent (note: answer is 50-50).
Will I make it to the class I want to go to if my morning meeting gets pushed up (note: who cares).
Will my friends disown me if I choose to stay in, instead of joining them for a night out (note: no).
Will everyone on my team like me foreverandeverandeverandever (note: probably not).
Will I be like the lady on the Lifetime movie "Five" who gets breast cancer at 32 (I'm 34 and still ticking, so hopefully not).

These are all legitmate-ish concerns. But they are just 6 of the 100s that crowd my brain on a regular basis.

Before you go thinking that I'm a total nutcase (or the girl from "The Breakfast Club"), let me be clear. These things don't keep me up at night. I'm not agoraphobic. I don't drink (much). I don't smoke. I don't cry (sometimesido). But I think it's safe to say that I've spent my entire life in a state of anxiety.

It's kind of like having a bum knee or an incessant sinus issue (neither of which I have). After a while, you just get used it. It becomes your "normal". You don't "feel worried" because you're just existing. Everyone has their "thing". This is mine.

What's funny, is that the worst case scenario rule only applies to me. If I'm analyzing a situation on behalf of a friend or co-worker, I'm very clearly able to see things for what they are. The pros & the cons have equal weight. I can tell someone else they're being ridiculous. But if it's me, batten down the hatches, grab your can goods, THE END IS COMING.

In the last year or so, I've learned that worry can have some physical effects. But because I am cocky and assume I can control everything, instead of listening to what my body was telling me, I pushed myself.

Wanna know what'll put you in your place real fast? Ending up unconscious in the elevator bank of your office building. POINTS FOR SUBTLETY.

Panic disorder is a real thing. And it blows. It's kept me from enjoying brunch with a friend. Touring a winery with my BF. Making it through a meeting that wasn't even particularly stressful. Panic shows up when it wants to, but there are things I can do to insure it doesn't take over my life.

1) Therapy. I always assumed you had to have experienced something truly traumatic to need it. I was wrong. It's the most selfish thing you can do for yourself (um, you talk about yourself for a full hour). Friends & family are great. But they have opinions. And they know your history. Therapists don't have an agenda. Or even an opinion really. Just a comfy couch (I don't lay down, that's too weird).
2) Meds. I was anti-meds. I like the idea of not relying on something on a daily basis. However, knowing that I have something in my purse should I need it, makes all the difference in the world.
3) Sleep. I am an 8 hours a night kinda girl. I think my body needs the extra minutes to rev up for another day as the carrier of Lauren's brain.

Anyway, in my quest to look more like this on a regular basis:

I'm discovering that being open about this thing that I have and what I'm doing to control it, makes me feel that much more in charge. It's not a secret. It's not a big deal. And I know I'm not alone.

Stress cases unite!