Summertime Sadness

I feel like I have ass-backwards seasonal affective anxiety or something. Lately, I’m been getting very anxious and doubting myself a lot. Physically, I tend to flip-flop the same amount that I’d imagine any 22-year-old does, so I’ll ignore that for now and hope for time to be the cure. Mentally, I seem to be in a similar phase as I was last summer. Doubting what I want to do with my life, what I’m good at, what is practical, what is realistic. Doubting who I am and whether I’m as smart or healthy or informed or funny as I thought I was. Doubting what I like to do and who I like to be with. Doubt, doubt, doubt, uncertainty, denial, acceptance, more doubt. It’s quite exhausting.

So where do I go from here and why did I cycle back around to where I was last year? When will I finally figure out who I am and what I want? When will I stop being a prisoner of my own mind?

Step 1. Find the root cause(s). I think I have some idea of what they may be, but it’s hard to look at your own self objectively. Maybe it’s time to try the 3rd party thing again. I just hate giving up my time, even if it’s just an hour or so, because I’m a lazy ass and I’m some-what okay with that.

Step 2, 3, 4, etc. TBD. One step at a time, amirite?

Why so serious?

So, it’s been a while. And I’ve been doing pretty well. Overall, I’ve been much less anxious than I was a year ago and much happier. But I still get stuck in my head quite a bit with doubts and worries and criticisms. And it’s hard for me to get past that, so I tend to just distract myself or bury myself in work. However, this morning I stumbled across an article by Eric Barker that I found really insightful and enlightening. To sum it up, we take our thoughts too seriously. We give them a lot more weight than what’s actually happening in the moment. And that’s draining us of happiness. The key is not to distract yourself from these thoughts; the key is the face them head on and let them know that they aren’t all that and a bag of chips. They’re far less important than what’s actually going on in the present. And yet, we kind of suck at actually acknowledging the present. We’re too focused on mourning the past and crying over the future.

So here’s my new goal. I know it’s cliche, but I think that most people who preach it aren’t actually doing it themselves—living in the present. And because it’s become so cliche, we brush it off and don’t actually understand what it means. Living in the present isn’t just about YOLO, go crazy. It’s actually a lot simpler of a concept than that, and yet harder to actually do. Living in the present, as Eric Barker explains, is about paying attention to and being aware of what’s going on around you. Not what’s going on on the tiny screen of your cellphone, where you’re constantly checking for updates on Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat, Mail, etc. until you reach that sad point where you’re refreshing over and over again only to find no new posts or one new post that you could not care less about (yes, this is me on a daily basis). We’re not paying attention to the people walking past us on the sidewalk, the dog running around in our neighbor’s backyard, the feel of the wind as we walk from the car to the store, the wonderful smells on our beach trip, the first bite of a delicious dinner. I’ll stop before I turn this into cliched nonsense. Moral of the story is: pay attention to the world around you and enjoy the simple pleasures that your senses bring.

Not to get all hippie-dippie, but I think I’ll try meditation again after reading this article. I really only gave it a half-assed try before because it killed me to unplug for just 5 minutes. How sad is that? So I’ll try again. Because it was relaxing. And I’m ready to be happy with myself. I’m sick of the overthinking, over-scrutinizing. I’m sick of letting my thoughts rule my world and ruin my world. They’re just thoughts. The gnats of the mind.

Bravo, Eric Barker. You’ve turned what started out as a pretty measly Sunday into quite the productive one for me. (Article for reference)

It’s not lupus

Thanks, Dr. House. Surprisingly, this is one of the only things that I haven’t diagnosed myself with. But who knows, it’s probably just a matter of time. Womp womp.

It’s been a rough couple weeks. My anxiety and hypochondria are back to play their you-can’t-catch-me games with my mind. Been struggling to deal with them this time around. Which is frustrating because I thought I was getting somewhere with my new-found coping mechanisms. Oh well. I’m still working on it. And I’m taking advantage of my friends and family, who allow me to retain that small ounce of sanity I have left during an episode (or whatever you want to call it).

Unfortunately, I don’t have a lot to say or much insight to offer in this post. Sometimes it just helps to type it out, even if there’s no apparent solution to share. I’m just trying to regain and maintain some perspective so that my anxiety doesn’t destroy me. I’m crippled, but I’m not yet destroyed.

Reflections

After a couple months of self, professional, and medicated treatment, I’ve come to some realizations and developed coping mechanisms that have been and will be very helpful for me in dealing with my anxiety. This post is mostly to remind myself in the future if for some reason I am led astray or forget (quite likely). Or for those days when things are particularly rough and my mind won’t give me a break.

Starting with my health-related anxiety, I’ve finally found a technique that eases my mind a bit. While it’s not possible to totally rid of my hypochondria, I’m able to lessen its weight and not let it inhibit me so much. It’s really simple in theory, a bit more difficult to execute, but I know it takes practice. So here it goes. When I’m struck by some strange symptom or ailment (obviously not a true emergency), I tell myself:

“You can worry about this in a couple weeks if it’s still happening.”

I allow myself to worry—just not yet. I’m not putting myself down for being anxious. I’m not forbidding myself from worrying at all. I’m just postponing it (if necessary). This calms my immediate panic and allows me to basically forget about whatever is going on. I have had to repeat the process a couple times in one day, but reinforcement is necessary. Practice makes perfect, eh?

Maybe not perfect. Just good enough. Which brings me to my second realization. I’m a perfectionist. It’s the love child of my anxiety and my troubled sense of self-worth. I overdo things. I waste time. I stress out far too much for the amount of gain that comes from it. It’s hard for me to stop until things are as close to perfect as possible. In school, I spent a hell of a lot more time on assignments and exams than I should have. I missed out on a lot of experiences because I was busy getting my perfect score. And what did that do for me? I got a 4.0. I impressed my parents. I impressed myself too. But practically, there was little benefit, besides maybe a bit of an edge in the job market. At work, things often take me longer than they should because I’m busy double-checking or over-padding. Not that these are bad things, but I take them to an extreme level. It prolongs the process and causes unnecessary stress. So here’s what I’ve realized: things don’t have to be perfect, they just have to be good enough. I’ve got to work on this. It doesn’t mean I’m going to stop putting effort in or producing quality work, it just means I have to find a balance.

As I enter the new year I’m reflecting on the detrimental habits that have held me back and the positive realizations that are pushing me forward. Here’s to a happy new year!

P.S. I like this song, and it fits the title. Enjoy!

Hi, I’m Debbie

So remember how I was all excited about the fact that I was getting ridiculous anxiety in the middle of the night because my mind was desperate to find something to be anxious about when there was nothing? Well, my body was like, “Eff that. Let’s give her some real anxiety.” Sigh. It’s been a rough week. I’m hanging on to the hope that it’s my medication, but my mind insists on diagnosing me with debilitating diseases, illnesses and cancers. I’m fully aware of the power that the mind has over the body. I’ve experienced this several times, but it’s still a hard concept for me to fully accept. It’s difficult for me to believe that my anxiety or my medication could make my left arm feel funny for a week.

I’ve only been on the medication for a week and a half, so I know my body is still adjusting. But I hope it stops soon because I’m going cray. My middle-of-the-night anxiety is not so bad anymore. It culminated in a frightening and first-time panic attack last Friday and has dulled ever since. But as with everything, on to the next one.

My anxiety during the day is much greater than usual. My hypochondria is in full bloom. It doesn’t help that work is slow…leaves me with a whole lot of time to think and obsess. Which is why I’m trying to write instead.

I just want to feel better. Crossing my fingers that next week I will feel good. Because I’m starting to regret this decision. Before I started the medication, I was feeling great compared to how I feel now.

Woe is me. The end.

Stay sane inside insanity

Back on that little blue pill. Can’t say I’m ecstatic about it, but I am hopeful. Day 2 and it’s already having its effects, which I don’t remember happening much the first go-around. The first effect is my favorite, and I did experience it last time too. Basically, when I close my eyes to go to sleep, it’s like I can actually see brain activity. It’s incredibly hard to describe, but I can see or sense something going on in that darkness. Vaguely colored, but mostly just some sort of movement. I don’t know how this works, and I don’t know if other people have experienced or noticed this, but it’s definitely the coolest part of these first couple weeks.

Aside from my eccentric brain activity, the side effects are not so fun. Last night, my mind generously woke me at the hours of 12, 1, 2, 3 and 4 am to play games. After that I couldn’t fall back asleep until  5, and I had a 6 am wake-up call for work. As frustrating as waking up every hour was in and of itself, the reason I woke up was far more frustrating. I kept waking to this huge anxiety that I didn’t set my alarm or slept past it. Over and over again. Like, come on, that’s all my mind could come up with? Not that I’m asking for anxiety (really, no thank you), but that one just seemed far-fetched. On the plus side, maybe that means my mind was scrambling and I really don’t have much to be anxious about?

Anyhoot, I’m writing this at work since my glazed-over eyes won’t allow for much productivity. Whoops! Some other fun effects? Headache and nausea. Headache is typical, but I very rarely feel nauseated. Upside? The pills have started to kick in I guess! Here’s to hoping this introductory phase doesn’t get too much worse than this. And here’s to hoping that I can sleep tonight because sleep is my fave.

On a happier note, tomorrow is October, which means Halloween month! One of my favorite times of the year, no doubt. My dad puts up fun decorations, scary movies automatically become 10 times better, Markoff’s Haunted Forest comes back, stores have pumpkin everything (yes, I’m basic), and I get to shamelessly stalk Facebook pictures of questionably costumed college students/friends. Most importantly, I get to watch/sing and dance to Rocky Horror Picture Show over and over again. Definitely a top 5—don’t judge. And in that spirit, the title of this post comes from Columbia, my favorite character. I’ve found the phrase to be quite relatable and encouraging.

Thanks, Columbia.

I. Don’t. Know.

Oh, the woes of being 22. Definitely an anxiety-inducing age. Found employment very soon after graduation (yay me), yet I kind of dread my job. It’s made me second guess what I thought I wanted to do. It’s made me second guess that I’m capable of any profession above entry-level. It’s made me question my priorities. It’s made me realize that I don’t have a creative bone in my body. And recently, I don’t seem to have a funny bone either. I’m a mood-killer and an indecisive bitch. Straight up. No pity party here, just facts. Even this damn post is a mood killer, but the venting must be had sometimes.

I can’t make any decisions for myself, work-wise or personally, because the only answer that is readily available to me is “I don’t know.” I’m happy on a situational basis, but don’t know that I’m happy overall. Why? I don’t effing know. Or rather, because I don’t effing know anything – what I want to do with my life, what I want to do for fun, who I want to be around, what I want to frickin’ eat. My lexicon’s three favorite words:

I don’t know. 

But I am trying something new next week in an attempt to slowly and forcefully climb my way out of my rut. Maybe that’ll help, maybe not. But it’s a start, eh?

My theory of relativity?

I’ll start by saying that I’m doing much better. My week-long post-grad panic attack seems to have been subdued. I’m still unemployed, but I have some leads. And I’m still kinda bored, but I’m working on that as well. Being home isn’t too bad, despite my bed being much hairier, and I realize that I am incredibly lucky to have a home to move back into. Which brings me to a conflicted notion that I’ve been playing with the last couple of days. Clearly I was pretty down for a few days after graduating and moving back home, and I went through some wallowing. I couldn’t really help myself, even as I reflected on what it was that I was down about—which was not much. I fully appreciate looking at the positives and putting things into perspective, but aren’t we allowed some selfish wallowing?

I had a conversation with my grandma during my slump, and she kept reminding me that compared to other people, like friends and family members, I was in an effing great place—great academic track record, great friends, great potential, etc. I understand what she was saying, but I couldn’t help but wonder why I wasn’t allowed to be upset relative to my own self. Relative to who I am/was and what I had. I thought about this again the other day. I read an article about an amputee and watched a dancer with alopecia on TV, and I cursed myself for being such a princess these last couple of weeks. But then I thought, “Am I not allowed to be upset about ‘trivial’ things that affect my own life?” I mean, yes, I am incredibly fortunate and blessed, especially compared to people with much more life-altering and complicating circumstances. And yes, I should be thankful for that (hence my soon-to-come tattoo). But comparisons to other people aside, can’t I be a little upset about a situation that makes my life a bit less fortunate or enjoyable than it was before?

Surely, I only get a certain amount of time to wallow before it becomes ridiculous, but I should get some time to be down about it. These things are relative; they vary from person to person. There’s no universal bar for how bad something has to be before you’re allowed to wallow. So I don’t think I should feel too guilty or wrong for allowing myself to be upset about something that might seem trivial to someone else. Because to me it doesn’t feel so trivial. To me, it’s important. I need to be able to wallow or it will just build up…it’s healthy (to an extent). So I’m going to do it; I need to do it. That doesn’t mean I’m going to throw out other perspectives. They are still important for overall reflection and growth. But in the short-term, in the immediate, I need to be a little selfish sometimes and allow myself to feel without guilt. I think everyone has a right to wallow regardless of what it is they are wallowing about. It’s all relative, people.

 

Human, behave yourself

Well, it’s certainly been a while. Because honestly, I was in a really good place for the past year. But I’m slipping. So I’m back.

I graduated summa cum laude from the University of Maryland this week…you’d think I’d be in a better mood. Butttttt things are the worst that they’ve been in a while. I’m terrified of what’s next. I’m incredibly upset about what I’m leaving behind–a house full of my best friends, bars right down the street, and a fake sense of responsibility. I don’t know what to do with myself now that I’m home. I have no classes, no job, and (frankly) no hobbies. Doesn’t help that I just got out of a good but fruitless relationship in a messy way. I’m just kind of lost right now. And I’m having a hard time finding music that will allow me to both wallow and feel better. I’m currently listening to Ellie Goulding (hence the post title), but unfortunately it’s hurting more than helping because her music reminds me of better times about a month ago. Womp. I’m thinking this will be the first post of many this summer that chronicle my self-proclaimed rough transition into the real world. And yes, I am complaining and crying over stupid shit…welcome to life with anxiety.

My friends are here for me and have continuously tried to give me advice and cheer me up this week, but my stubborn mind won’t take it. I’m scared that I’m going backwards. That I’m going to have to get back on the meds, which I don’t want to do. They helped, but I want to be happy on my own. Please, gods of WordPress, let this be a very short-term post-grad panic attack that goes away. Because I was doing damn good before.

Gratitude and Kindness

Today was a great day full of new perspective and positive energy. On my second-to-last day at my internship, my colleagues showered me in appreciation and gifts. I don’t get emotional about that kind of stuff, but I almost got teary. Looking at myself from the inside, there are a whole lot of problems that I can’t understand and certainly don’t like (anxiety, obsession, worry, etc.) But from the outside – and this is not just an image – I am a dedicated, hardworking, compassionate person. And my colleagues saw that this summer and thanked me for it. I know that I have much to be proud of, and I do quite like myself, but during my mental breakdowns all of that stuff gets overshadowed and momentarily forgotten. So today was a wonderful reminder that there is much more to me than just being “that girl with anxiety.” In fact, I’m the only one that ever sees myself as “that girl with anxiety.” I was able to help a lot of people this summer, and there is no better feeling. One note that I received from a colleague that I will take with me to wherever I end up next: “Go forth with great confidence. Know you are truly awesome.”

The people that I encountered this summer – colleagues, volunteers and families – shocked me with how kind and genuine they are. Those are rare things to possess, and they have certainly given me something to strive towards.

Another note about kindness. Please at least try to strive towards it. Even if your thoughts aren’t as kind. We are all familiar with that saying:

If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.

via http://pinterest.com/pin/119838040057735500/

Why not? Well my question would be why? Why put someone down or make someone feel bad? What do you get out of that? Hopefully a guilty conscience. Here’s an example: I’m at a bar with one of my best friends. We are standing around, casually talking to a guy that my friend knows in passing. We’re having a fine time when this girl comes up to the guy in the middle of our conversation. We do not know this girl, and she does not know us. She skeptically says to the guy, “Team Asian and Team Ginger,” referring to me and my friend, then walks away. I’m not quite a ginger, and my friend was adamant about that, but that’s not the point. This girl’s comment was solely derogatory and nothing else. She didn’t know us, so it couldn’t have been some sort of grudge or revenge thing. She was not in any way complimenting us. Some may say she was jealous, but come on now, that’s not it. She was just being a bitch, for no reason. And to be honest, it made me feel pretty damn insecure. I’m just glad I’m not that person. I don’t go around putting down random people just because I can.

Be kind. Just do it.