What lies do you tell yourself?
Do you convince yourself that this time you really will lose that last 10 (or 40) pounds that you’ve been railing against for more years than you want to admit?
Do you say to yourself that tomorrow you will get everything on your to do list done? Or maybe at least one thing? Or maybe even decide that tomorrow you join the other grownups and make a to do list?
Do you tell yourself you are happy when you are not?
We aren’t always happy. That would be ridiculous. Can you even imagine how impossible it would be to be around a person who is always happy? I shudder to think.
I’m not talking about always being happy. I am talking about happiness on a fundamental level.
I told myself that lie so many times.
That was the big one. The worst one. I am happy. This is the life I want.
Years of my life came and went while I lived that lie.
Not now. Now is good. Life has been good for a long time. Not that there haven’t been some storms. Some of the biggest in my life, but storms don’t get to decide for me if I’m happy or not.
I have been making a conscious effort to live my life authentically. Well…more authentically. I am authentic enough to admit I still have a wide array of masks to choose from and hide behind.
I had a moment, just this morning, that made me question how I am defining my own authenticity.
For me, Facebook is a way to keep in touch with people who live far away or who I have reconnected with after many years. I’ve also met a fuck ton of interesting people. I like Facebook because Facebook people are so goddamn funny and make me laugh. I like Facebook because it gives me an outlet for writing down short, sarcastic, or ridiculous observations that very often turn into blog posts. Facebook is a place for me to poke fun at my anxiety.
I’m going back to the doctor. This time to see if, maybe, I’m having hormonal issues. I have to do something about this anxiety, you guys. I’m exhausted. I have to medicate more and more and I don’t want to. I just want to stop. I just want some relief so I can get a grip on my anxiety again. Right now, trying get my hands around anxiety is like trying to take the lid off of a tube of lip balm just after putting lotion on your hands.
It doesn’t matter how hard I wipe my fingers off on my jeans, I still can’t get a grip on my anxiety.
I’m taking the long way, but I promise, we’ll get to authenticity soon.
I post shit on Facebook about being anxious, but usually they are meant to be funny. For instance, I recently posted this:
I find that a good indicator that my anxiety is way too high is getting teary over the episode where Buffy goes to her senior prom.
I deleted a comment that someone made on that post. It wasn’t a mean comment. I’m certainly not upset with this person for the comment. I deleted it because it challenged my view of my own authenticity.
This person seemed genuinely concerned for my mental health and suggested that perhaps I was having a prolonged manic episode.
I’m not. I understand mania. I’ve been around people having manic episodes. I don’t have manic episodes. I have depression, anxiety, and impostor syndrome issues, but no mania. Which really isn’t the point. The point is, I was forced to acknowledge that if I put myself out there, hiding behind sarcasm or jokes doesn’t mask the fact that I struggle with very real issues. I’m allowing other people to see that.
Why did I delete the comment? Not because of the mania thing, but because it was a serious response to what I meant as a flippant comment. A serious response shines a light on the not funny side of anxiety and depression. Which in turn shines a light on me.
I know that I’ve written seriously and honestly about anxiety, but I just as often makes jokes about it. I’m not sorry for the jokes. I won’t stop making jokes. How bleak that would be. Jokes and sarcasm have gotten me through some shit.
I’m not talking about giving up jokes to be authentic. I’m talking about the realization that when something (an observation or a suggestion, for instance) gets too close to the injured part of me, then I want to run away.
No…no don’t do that. We can joke all we want about my mental health, but please don’t be serious because then that makes it real.
Well, I guess if I’m going to write as a “not professional” about this shit, then I should be as honest as I can about it.
Anxiety is not always funny. It’s almost never funny.
Anxiety is exhausting and a time killer. It robs me of my ability to concentrate, sleep, or think rationally. Lately, it’s been a near constant battle. There is nothing funny about that.
However, there are usually moments of absurdity. Short moments, that when you examine them on their own, are pretty fucking hilarious. That’s what I hold on to. Those are the moments I write about because they make me laugh.
“Laughter is the best medicine” is a dumb saying. I mean, it’s not. Laughter has never made my allergies go away and I’m reasonably sure that laughter couldn’t have taken out Randy’s appendix. But laughter does help when anxiety or depression is kicking my ass.
I don’t know that I’ve explained this very well. I deleted a Facebook comment because it made me uncomfortable.
I can’t let people see that. They’ll think I’m crazy. Or even worse, they will pity me.
The truth is, though, that I do put my shit out there all the time and have no idea how people will interpret it. I have no idea how much they can really see. I don’t always know how much I am hiding. I only have my filter. I have no idea what your filters look like.
I guess the point is this: Life is hard, yo.
I’m not trying to be authentic so that I can hold myself up and say “Look how awesome I am! I mean really..a genuine person? What’s better than that?” Although, I have had moments where I have feared that is how I come across.
I am trying to live authentically because I want to undo some of the damage that has been done. I don’t know how I can ever accomplish that if I am not honest about who I am. Also, I can’t do it if I don’t accept who I am. Love who I am. I will go to the ends of the earth to defend someone I love. How can I defend myself or help myself if I don’t love myself?
Here is the part when I say “And that is very nearly true!” It is very nearly true, but I’m not sure why. I’m not sure if I still have a way to go before I love myself or if the thought of saying that I love myself just makes me uncomfortable. Either way, I do like myself and that is quite an improvement right there.
To all of you suffering from whatever mental illness issues you deal with, I know it’s hard. I know you hide it sometimes. I know you say you’re okay when you’re not. I know that sometimes you smile when smiling feels impossible. I hope you see the funny moments when they happen. I hope you hold on to them and feel some relief.
We do what we have to do to keep on, don’t we?
Thank the stars we have each other.
What we love about you is that you DO put yourself out there, you are vulnerable and wonderful, and hysterical all at the same time. Don’t stop. You keep me laughing, and while it may not cure allergies, I am convinced that it is the best medicine (even for breast cancer– though I won’t stop the radiation, just in case,)
Oh, I know it helps..I would be a basket case if I didn’t find the humor in things. Absolutely! 🙂
And thank you, sweetness. 🙂
So true…and so authentic.
Thank you!
I totally get why you deleted the comment, apart from the fact I think it was seriously overblowing it. Yep, anxiety is a bastard but crying at cute pictures, things on TV and in movies does go hand in hand with hormones. I cried watching NCIS New Orleans last night, in a really stupid part of it, for no logical reason but I definitely think that’s the hormonal side rather than my PTSD, though that’s been playing merry hell all week. If I survive this first year of college I’ll survive anything.
Laughing about the daft reactions we have is what keeps us sane, (that’s my theory and I’m sticking to it).
The lies I tell to myself?
Hmm, that I haven’t been taken for a fool again, (which I most certainly have), that doing this degree will get me a job, that I will be able to get out of this bedsit and have a nice place to live, a a garden and the occasional holiday, that I will get to see Paris, and New Orleans and that I might just meet someone nice who likes me for who I am, rather than what I can do for them.
I hope you can get it under control, it’s such a joy sucker.
I wish so badly I could give you all those things! And I would meet you in New Orleans. I love New Orleans.
It’s great to be authentic, BUT…
It’s facebook. You’re not being inauthentic if you limit what people you knew in 2nd grade know about you.
I mean, if someone on facebook publicly asked, “Nasrteen, did you end up getting that weird spot on your back checked out by a dermatologst?”, I’d delete it with a “Why’s she calling me out about the spot on my back in front of all of these people?”
(I’m just making something up here. I don’t have any weirds spot on my back…)
Not everything is for everyone. I don’t publish my web searches, after all. My blog is different than my facebook feed.
Anyway, I enjoyed reading this.
You make a very good point and I agree 100%. I think in this case, I was unsure why I reacted the way I did. I have deleted other comments because they were nasty or mean and I have no interest in seeing that in MY space. I will do what I please with my space. This was a little different…I mean, I don’t feel bad about deleting the comment, I was just surprised by my reaction to it.
Start this right off with saying that I’m 100% disabled with mental illness since, ever, (since I was born, according to my shrinks. It’s genetic. Like one shrink said I was predestined to get it.
That was a relief. I thought I was crazy. 😀
I’ve done a lot that the doctors said couldn’t be done. I won’t enumerate them here, who cares especially now that I’m retired. I’m kicking around the point that life doesn’t have to be “this” way. Choices everyday. Some you can actually make, others are chemical/hormonal, made just for you so you’ve got those pricks to fight. Then tomorrow is different.
It took four officers to bring me face to face with the fact that my “face to the world” was no longer working and they put me in the emergency room from there to the lockup.
I don’t want to make this a lot about me. I want to make it a statement against that big bugaboo, stigma. Lets just quit that right now. I need my medicines. You wouldn’t like me if I didn’t take them. We don’t know how many others need them too.
I cuss mine nearly everyday. Still want to be normal. haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa What the fuck is normal? A setting on a clothes dryer. But, you know what I mean. It’s a lot like having to wear glasses. I hate it. I want to see 20/10 on my own. Mebbe I will after I die if there is a place.
I am what I am, as are we all. Lets just drop that whole stigma thing. It doesn’t make life easier. So with that I’ll quit. Hopes for a great day for you both, Michelle and Randy. Life is good. (99% of the time.)
Yes! The stigma has got to go. Which is really the underlying nastiness of these feelings I had…that I am still afraid of what people think..that I am still, on some level, perpetuating the stigma. I don’t want to be that person.
I am down for a great day today! Yes! Randy will be using his new smoker that he is currently in love with and I finally get to see Deadpool today.
“[. . .] storms don’t get to decide for me if I’m happy or not.” Exquisitely brilliant. Painfully true. Damn the storms. Damn them for coming along just when I got my house rebuilt and painted. Damn them for destroying my flower beds. I say those things because, emotionally, I’ve hitched myself–emotionally–to things outside of me. I can get upset over those and not me. It was how I licensed myself as an alcoholic. That was my escape.
Once I learned to look down on the person sitting here at this keyboard, typing a description of my underwear drawer in hopes it might help someone else, then I learned to love this person. Love her mess-ups and fear of storms. Love her. Love ME. I didn’t care whether I could trust me or not, I had to love me unconditionally. Loving others followed naturally. It’s not a selfish thing to love oneself. In fact, I found myself far less anxious (and completely sober–four years now) when I allowed myself to love myself. It took a year, at least. Myself thanks me every day for it, too.
Michelle, thank you for this piece, for the raw honesty you spread out for all to sift through.
tlj
This is lovely..thank you so much for sharing this with me!
My anxiety has destroyed my ability to function as a normal human being. Many events have led to trigger my “higher” anxiety. As a child, I was incredibly anxious. A family physician told my parents I needed a shrink. My parents never spoke about it again. It was swept under the wall-to-wall carpeting.
I swear to god, half the reason for my hair loss isn’t just menopause. Its the fact that I”ve pulled and tugged on my hair for years. Due to anxiety. My face hurts due to the fact I grind my teeth–and that is because my anxiety gets the best of me.
Add in some OCD hypocondria with a well-blended mix of depression and the result is a woman who is more comfortable in front of her computer than in real-life situations. I’ve made an oasis of my home. It is my shield and my protection and when I venture outside a feeling of doom envelopes me.
The ageist issue is also cause for anxiety. I have remained unemployed despite my strong skill set. I’ve seen it in person. I go into an interview dressed perfectly for business. Every hair in place. Makeup absolutely impeccable. But age has a way of giving herself away with the loss of gravity and wrinkles. I’ve seen shock on the faces of those who interview me.
Another cause for anxiety.
To my friends and family, my entire existence is a lie. A huge lie. And it is a lie because I’ve allowed my emotional issues to remain under the carpet–and in my case, under the beautifully strong hardwood flooring in my home.
If I HAD medical insurance I would run to the doctor for meds. Life is easier under medication. Medication hides everything. Medication ALLOWS you to live a life outside of your prison.
Take the meds if you can. I know I would. I completely understand you, though. I hope your anxiety will be brought under control.
I am so sorry you are suffering and I wish more than anything that I could take it away. I hope you find the relief you need.
Yes, the medicine does help, but it makes me sleepy which is difficult at work because I have to write code and I need to be alert. I have had to take it lately, though. Being sleepy is better than crying at my desk.
Catherine, I so feel your pain, literally. I have experienced so many of the same situations and I have not worked for a couple of decades due to my anxiety. My husband was my safe person, my support person and he recently passed away, so right now, I’m feeling even more adrift than usual. I only took meds when I was a teen, but the side effects were so horrible that I never wanted to try meds again. So, whatever I’ve accomplished has been straight on, with no medicating. My personal philosophy is, if I’m having symptoms, it’s easier to realize they are just anxiety and not side effects of a drug. That’s just MY way of looking at it. Everyone is different and you need to do whatever you feel is right to help yourself. There’s more than ONE right way to treat it. Have you tried calling different pharmaceutical companies? Sometimes, if you have no insurance and can’t afford the medications, they will help you gain access to the meds you need, even receiving them free in some cases. It’s certainly worth a shot and can’t hurt! The worst they could say is “no” and then, you hang up and curse at them. Or curse first and then hang up! Works for ME! 🙂
My parents took me to a shrink when I was a teenager, but after he spoke with me and tested me at length, he realized that my issues stemmed, in part, to the family dynamic at home. When he confronted my parents about this and wanted them to be in on sessions, too, they pulled me out of treatment. I think they expected him to say, “It’s all HER, not you wonderful, perfect people!” and got a shock.
Whatever you decide, I wish you WELL and I hope you realize you are not alone in your experience. All the best to you!
Terri, thank you for your encouraging words. As much as I really do love meds, I have been just riding the wave and trying to deal with my anxiety in a natural way. I think, though, that more discussion needs to be made with all people about anxiety and other emotional issues.
It’s odd–you know, when someone has a physical illness or ailment, people are so empathetic. But when your spirit is wounded or ill, nobody understands. They only begin to understand when it happens to them.
Thanks again!
Terri Lee, your post wasn’t there when I posted. Swear. To. God.
Troll: Haha! No problem at all! I feel that anyone who is trying to help a fellow human being in pain is okay by me! 🙂 And I do believe you, because I have had that very same thing happen to me when I have posted a response. Suddenly, there are two posts where there were none before I hit “Submit”.
Catherine, as someone who has dealt with anxious feelings since I was a young child, I just wanted you to know you are understood and that people do care. As was stated on here, yes, we need to remove the stigma that surrounds any sort of mental distress or illness. The brain is just as much a part of the physical body as any other part and without it, you will cease to exist. That’s why I speak out about my panic disorder more now. I refuse to be “shamed” when I have nothing to be ashamed of. I’m a good person. I subscribed to your blog, too, since I also love fashion and believe that older women need to be given their due. Take care and remember to breathe deep into your belly. (I was using my progressive relaxation CD earlier and it’s stuck in my head now. lol)
Meds. CAN cost a lot. I started out with one that cost $165/mo. I got them GIVEN to me by that company when I submitted a few pieces of paper showing I needed it for free. You can do that with practically all of the high ones. I just went to Walmart’s $4.00 Formulary for you. There are dozens of different meds. for mental illness.
Don’t do this to yourself. For $20.00 you can get a months worth supply of 5 different drugs. That’s pretty good.
I wasted a lot of time struggling without drugs. AS you say, paraphrasing, life IS better struggling WITH drugs. (least I think that’s what you said) I have other solutions if $20.00 is going to be a hardship too. I can get you into doctors for free or next to nothing. There IS a way. There is.
Hi Catherine. I’m so sorry to hear that you are also dealing with the ageist issue. It’s a real nightmare and the look of horror you get I’m all too familiar with. I’m fairly certain a large proportion of society believes women over a certain age should be at home knitting for the grandchildren they assume we have.
It has been a source of real anxiety for me too lately. I hope you can work through it. If you can’t afford meds then St John’s Wort does help if you can get hold of it. Unfortunately I have other health issues which won’t allow me to take it now as it conflicts with other medication but it certainly helped me previously.
Michelle, my twin sister in anxiety and lots of other shit—lol—I also use humor constantly. It buffers the relentless punches we take throughout life when everything else fails us. It’s our coping mechanism and there is nothing wrong nor inauthentic about it. Without the humor element, we would be less authentic. Humor indicates that you still have your sanity intact. Some people hide their mental issues (probably OCD) by having perfect, spotless homes—a place for everything and everything in its place. They freak if something is left out on a table or not put away as THEY feel it should be. Uh—I’m not one of THOSE. I prefer humor! Haha! I also wonder if some of the things that I do to soothe my anxiety and grief would come across as “crazy” to others, but I am beginning to care less about that. Of course, when I first came down with my panic disorder as a teenager, and no one—not even doctors—-could give us a name for what was wrong, I did not find anything funny about it. I suffered physical, verbal and mental abuse at the hands of ignorant people who felt I was either on drugs or just being openly “defiant” by cutting classes (the dean of girls threatened to hit me with a wooden paddle at one point). The truth was, my anxiety symptoms were so bad when I’d try to sit in a classroom full of kids, I had to ask to go to the nurse’s office. And of course, I’d get the sarcasm from the first period teacher, too! “Didn’t you realize before you left home that you didn’t feel well? Suddenly, you’re sick?” That would humiliate me in front of the class, adding to my anxiety. The fucked up part was, she had been one of my favorite teachers the previous year, before I presented with anxiety symptoms. I was so hurt by her uncaring attitude. So, eventually, I just began cutting classes and going back home, where I felt “safe”. It took me a long time to get to where I could LAUGH at my anxiety disorder—once I finally realized what it was, that it’s not uncommon and many others had it, too. So, I’ll be damned if I’ll let anyone take my use of humor as coping mechanism away from me. Humor is who I am and it’s what helps me move forward. And to that remark made on your FB page? I would have replied, “Thanks for the “professional assessment”, but nope. Not it. I did however, used to watch Mannix on TV back in the day!” 😀
Oh, and of COURSE you cried when Buffy attended her senior prom!!! So did I! That’s when Angel left at the end to move to L.A. for his own TV show! They’d never be able to be together without Angel once again turning into Angelus, the Big Bad. Damn that gypsy curse!!! Now, when you tear up during the Hush episode, maybe get some help! HAHAHA!!!
I love this! And I’m only a few episodes away from Hush..I probably won’t cry.
OMG, I love the Hush episode! I actually own two of the Gentlemen figures in mint condition , never been out of the box. Which means squat really, because I love them too much to part with them anyway! HA!!! (Keep repeating to myself: I AM a mature adult! I AM a mature adult!) 😀
I’m so happy to be around this introspective and understanding ‘common law’ group 🙂
George 🙂 ‘A Place for Everything and Everything in it’s Place’ … I didn’t know ANYBODY said that anymore! Talk about nostalgia that stings…
I wanted to sit with you before I started chatting…I’ve been missing you! Frankly, a little worried about you, too 🙂 Glad I waited to chime in 🙂
I loved (and cried for you getting pulled out of therapy and over that back stabbing teacher) and agreed with everything you and Troll typed about with Catherine 🙂
We may have to lie to get through the day, but when we’re ‘truthing’ it’s straight and real.
Michelle 🙂 I lie to myself everyday I get out of bed. I paid a lot of money to that therapist. Lie Lie Lie, she said, one day you’ll believe it 🙂
I’m trying to work the anxiety and depression and obsessive’s with as few pharmaceuticals as possible. Sometimes you have to lie to yourself to get through the first few hours of the day.
“If I still feel this crappy at 8, I’ll call in.” Knowing I will go in, crappy or not, so I tell myself, “You feel fine. You look fine. You feel fine. You look fine.”
Lying to myself to trick my brain into making it a reality IS good therapy. It IS the opposite of wallowing in, “I can’t fucking do this!!!!!”
If I don’t lie to myself, then I need to start drinking again, because some of the voices are telling the truth and I am not that well.
It’s OK, though. The lies I tell myself are so MUCH better than the lies REAL people have told me…that I believed…that I needed a harsh dose of ‘anti-everythings’ to deal with and heal from.
The only GOOD reasons to lie to other people is if they have money you want, or if you are trying to ‘get in their pants.’
🙂
Lie to me Sister 🙂 I’m poor and I already know you want me!
Thank you, my other sister, Lisa K., for being worried about me. There have been so many things weighing upon me recently. I almost e-mailed you, but didn’t want to burden you with it all. You are so completely right about the lies ad bullshit told to US that contributed in a major way to the issues we have struggled with all of our lives. I’m sure each of us could write books about it! (Speaking of: how’s the book coming along, Michelle? 🙂 )
The whole “Act as if” method used to work better for me before Paul passed away. No matter how much I try now to “act as if”, there is no getting around his absence. But, I hear it is quite effective, if you can manage to not give up too soon. Act as if you already are who, what, how you want to be and your brain will shift gears and believe you. What is that other saying? When you are telling your brain something, it cannot separate fact from fiction. Apparently, I got the only brain that CAN. Haha!
Someone suggested to me that I might want to try therapy again and maybe it’s worth considering. I’ve done some research and narrowed it down, but can’t decide whether I should go for the psychologist who is male and younger than me or a female LMHC who is a few years older than me. My instincts say the woman may be more understanding of what I’ve gone through and easier to speak with, but the male is a psychologist. Do you think it makes a difference?
Love you for caring! George XO
YOU HAVE MY EMAIL AND YOU DIDN’T USE IT?????
*spanks with spaghetti noodle*
Yes! The therapist’s sex makes a difference. Doctors and who you learn Algebra from should all be female influenced.
🙂
Email me 🙂 I’m on FaceBook, now, too!
(and yes, I have been trying to find you…I Google matched your image and found a bunch of stuff you’ve posted, but not YOU 🙂
You will NEVER bother me 🙂 ‘K? I’m more bothered that you thought you’d bother me.
Hugs, Big Girl, HUGS!!!
Humor is your trademark. I love reading your posts for that. Facebook is same and really should be a fun place to connect. Why people post about death and illness on their facebook feed is beyond me. Who really wants to read or find out about those things on their facebook news feed, right? So, ya I totally get why you deleted that comment. I don’t use my personal page for anything to do with my blog or website. Plus, I find I’m very careful about what I share. I guess I’m hiding behind a mask.
I don’t think there is anything wrong with a few masks..we have them because we need them. I’m just trying to find out what happens when I put mine away for a bit.
No worries if you need to delete this immediately for your own reasons, but if you can read it first, please do!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This is an amazing post in so many ways that I’m disappointed I don’t have time to tell you all of them right now. I’m gonna use the number system here so that I can say as much to you as I can the quickest way I know how.
1. You made yourself impressively clear to me.
2. I believe that you can publish a book if you want to (that you’ve written)
3. I can relate to 100% of everything you said in this post. It makes me sad and happy simultaneously because: You are struggling and having such a hard time. I currently am not, but since we have so much in common it makes me even happier that you are one of my new BFFs whom I haven’t had the pleasure to meet with IRL.
4. My current impression of you is that you are very talented at more things than you realize. I think you may have to make a few choices to decide how you wants to use the abilities of yours. But that’s the best kind of decision to make, isn’t it?
I have more to say, but need to stop now re: how awesome you don’t realize you are and move on to something else now.
1. I will never leave the awesome thread that I started unless I have to. Right now, even though the rest of you keep ditching me without my permission and don’t read every single tweet and have not yet realized that since I started the party I am the hostess and the rest of you are rude motherfuckers I WIIL shut it down. JK!
2. We need a bigger room for the party. That’s your dept, not mine, so I think you may have to find it.
3. PLEASE tell me if I ever say anything that upsets you because when I do that accidently I feel so bad about it that I might have to shoot myself in the foot in order to feel better. I’m having an awesome time attempting to improve my sarcasm skills and be as outrageous as I can simultaneously, but I don’t want to distress anyone EVER!
4. Who do you think is more stubborn, Randy or me?
5. Try to use all of your coping skills today if you can so that you feel better.
6. I hope the doc you’re seeing re: hormones is an endocrinologist. If not, I suggest you find one.
7. You are one of my new amazing electronic BFFs and I love you.
FIX THIS STUPID COMMENT SECTION OF YOURS IMMEDIATELY YOUNG LADY OR I’M GOING TO TAKE AWAY YOUR COMPUTER FOR AS LONG AS I CAN!
I LOVE YOU AND YOU LOOK FABULOUS TODAY!
Thank you so much! And the party room can grow no more. This is all I can handle. 🙂
That’s a shame. I wanted to invite a few more people who would be good guests and probably have fun. Maybe we need to change venues.
*eyes wide in amazement*
Wow 🙂 That was awesome!
Hi Margot!
*waves from Michelle’s couch, arm around ‘George’s’ shoulder*
Well, I got teary just reading your blog. That you so willingly and so searingly expose to the world some of the most vulnerable parts of yourself, in my opinion, gives you the right to delete any damn comment you want. I’m sorry you feel the need to question your decision, though the truth is I think any of the rest of us anxiety prone humans – probably a lot more people than any of us realize – would be tormenting ourselves in exactly the same way. And that’s the saddest thing of all, that trying to be authentic and true to our hearts is so laden with guilt.
Happiness is elusive, at best. But I think it’s a bit easier to recognize if we can work on being more mindful – living in each moment by teaching our busy minds to relax and appreciate whatever is present in that moment in time with us, however small and seemingly insignificant.
Yes! And this is just what I needed to read!
I keep telling myself I’ll clean out my office so I can actually use it as my office. There’s always a reason it hasn’t happened yet.
When you get your office done, I have some closets I could use your help with.
The main lie I was telling myself was that I could find an apartment in the shark-infested East Bay rental market that I could afford on my disability income, the second lie was that getting a small inheritance would help.
Having faced up and repaired our connection to an old friend we were kind of on the outs with, we now have somewhere decent to live. It’s in Richmond, but I refuse to change my screen name, because damn it! I’m an Oakland boy. A 55 year old, losing his long graying hair Oakland boy, been that way since ’84. So I guess that counts as another lie?
I find humor to be very important to maintaining the appearance of sanity. It’s weird; now that I don’t have any bosses to try and deceive about my stability (or lack thereof) sanity has for some reason become important to me. Maybe it’s the sobriety…
Okay, I am so glad you found a good place to live! Such good news, Doug!
I have always admired your ability to make funny comments about your anxiety.
I am not there. Probably won’t be, but I so appreciated that you can and do write that way.
I am currently attempting to cut back on my meds. (again), It is terrifying.
I wish I could write funny things about it, but that wiping your hands on your jeans to get rid of anxiety feeling is something I can so relate too.
Do what you have to do about the comments you receive. That is your power and prerogative.
Just keep writing. Please. I know it is selfish of me to ask, but it helps to read people who can frame this fucking illness with humour.
We are in this together. One moment at a time.
And I am the QUEEN of saying things are ok when they aren’t.
I am learning.
At 60 it is about time!
I won’t stop. This one makes me cringe a little, but it’ll be okay. haha. I’m looking forward to some more funny. Randy and I saw Deadpool today and that made me laugh.
Using humour to talk about your anxiety helped me to see that I was doing the same with my family. I still don’t know if mine is because of the hormones, or I actually have something wrong with me. My aunt suffers from schizophrenia and has since she was young, and I always wondered if it was hereditary. .. Thank you Michelle for being raw, honest and open, and I too have been crying a lot lately…
It’s bullshit!! I hate it. The crying, I mean.
Absolutely – thank goodness we have each other !!!!
If you stopped joking I would question your authenticity. Because you’re funny. And if you stopped being funny, then who are you? I truly believe that laughter is the best medicine. And you’re one of my favorite medical unprofessionals. 😉
OK…so you’re gonna have to backup and go slow for me here coz you lost me… Or maybe we have totally different definitions of authentic.
I think I’m on the same page as Liv who just left a comment before me. Surely being sarcastic and piss-taking is utterly authentic behaviour for you. It’s a genuine part of who you are in the world. And it’s not only a perfectly valid coping strategy, it’s also what attracts many of your readers. It’s why they love you.
Isn’t it?
So WTF are you beating yourself up for?
ps… sorry I called you Shirley.
M, you got balls and humour. That ought to get you through anything. Remember to breathe!
I appreciate your candor! I do! Only slightly related but I used way too much energy yesterday on someone I barely know on FB who was just ….. CONTRARY. Every time I think about messaging her to get closure (for me), I remind myself that by her behavior she indicated she’s probably not “big on closure” so …. ADIOS TIME CONSUMING HIGH MAINTENANCE LADY. Anyway, big hugs to you and much support your way.
Hell, if I didn’t crack jokes about my anxiety and other issues I would probably go crazy myself. I get the deleting the comment though and why. I had a similar comment like that on my blog a couple of weeks ago and I almost did the same thing. I didn’t, but I really, really wanted to. It’s like my little brother. I can pick on him, but nobody else can. I can make fun of my anxiety, but I can’t handle when someone else does. When my anxiety is on overload I will tell my husband, “I need to get in your pocket” and that means I can’t deal, I want to hide, help me and he takes over for me. We do what we have to do to deal and we have each other! Your posts have made me braver and stronger because I no longer feel like I am the only one freaking out. I know you are too haha! Sad but true!
Oh how I adore you and relate to everything you said! Some day I’m driving to Ohio with some bourbon so we can sit on your porch and watch the squirrels while talking about nothing.
I think that due to our delightful childhoods it is just so HARD to be authentic – we just don’t know how! Literally. Like I just started figuring out what I like and don’t like in the last year or two. How fucked up is that? I’m 47. And I am just now figuring out that I CAN be whoever I really am – that it’s ok. So it takes a while to not only “know” that whoever I am is OK, but to figure out who IS really me and who was just a mask given to me by dear old daddy-o.
And we use humor to deal with every “issue” in our house, too. I don’t think that’s inauthentic at all!
BTW – your explanation of handling anxiety is SPOT ON! I have a lip balm addiction so I try to remember to put it on BEFORE my hand lotion. When I do it in the opposite order I probably look like Tim Conway doing the novocaine skit on Carol Burnett…
I think commenters with good intentions often just aren’t informed. For instance, I once wrote a very raw post about how down I was feeling. One new reader explained that what I was feeling was clinical depression and that I should go to my doctor and get some anti-depressants. Her comment annoyed me. What she didn’t know (and apparently didn’t even consider asking me about) is that 1) I’m not an idiot, 2) I was already under the regular care of both my therapist and my psychiatrist, and 3) I was already on anti-depressants (because I’m not an idiot). I was also rather offended that she would make such a comment (even if she had the best intentions) when she obviously had not read any of my other posts – because if she had, she would have seen that the reason I was feeling so blue was because my fucking husband of more than a quarter century had walked out on me and didn’t want to be married anymore. I think, in those circumstances, feeling like shit now and then is perfectly normal (and my psychiatrist agreed). I also sometimes wonder if people who make that type of “supportive” comment perhaps DON’T have your best interests at heart – they just want to post advice (in a public forum) to show others how caring, intelligent, well-adjusted, etc. that they are. I’m not saying that everyone does that – but I sometimes wonder. PS, besides all of the TV shows, I cry over commercials – ALL THE TIME! I read somewhere that shedding tears is actually healthy for us – so see, our crying is a GOOD thing!
I come from an anxious family. No one ever talked about it when I was young. It took me decades to figure out how to deal with it. At least now we talk about it. And those who still look askew when it’s mentioned just lack life experience. That’s what I tell myself b/c it sounds better than they’ve been living under a rock:).
Anxiety is such an asshole. It makes me happy that you are dealing with it. I am working on that.