Living with Anxiety

Where to begin

It's hard to say when my anxiety really started to take control over my thoughts. I remember a few years ago I started to feel like I was always in a hurry, and running out of time. Was it my age? Was it that I felt like I wasn't where I wanted to be at this point in my life? Or perhaps all the noise out there from the motivational gurus telling us we need to have purpose, passion, and ambition to live the life we truly desire. While on the other hand are these young go-getters showing off their nice houses, cool cars, and extreme lifestyles who seemed to do very little to get what they have, but can show you how to do the same thing for yourself. I get it. It all comes down to me and my decisions. That can really put pressure on a guy who feels like he missed the boat somewhere. Even though I had passion and ambition, I felt like I was never doing enough. I started to feel like I need to accomplish my goals before I can live more freely. I started to get lost in my own head. I started comparing myself to everyone else. I started becoming the introvert where I was always the outgoing one. And then one of my biggest fears happened.

Loss

After my mom passed away a few years ago, my sister and I were focused on taking care of my dad. My biggest fear was that one day I would go visit him and he would be gone. Every time I would go visit my dad, I would check the mail, enter the house through the basement, and listen for the TV. I would walk up the stairs, open the basement door and peak around the corner to either find him watching TV, or napping on the couch.

Until one day I entered through the basement and heard silence. Even though it seemed a little strange, I proceeded up the stairs as usual. As I opened the basement door and peeked around the corner, I saw his lifeless body lying on the floor staring up at the ceiling. I yelled "Dad" with no response and I started to panic. I dropped everything in my hands and ran over to him. My thoughts started racing to the point that I couldn't unlock my cell phone to dial 911, so I ran to phone that was in the kitchen and dialed 911. I was scared, but I had to do what I had to do. The 911 dispatcher asked me to go see if my dad had a pulse, and if not I needed to administer CPR. So I ran back to my dad to check for a pulse, and when I grabbed his wrist, I felt how cold he was and I knew at that point he was gone. I walked back to the phone and told the dispatcher that he was gone. The dispatcher stayed on the line with me until the first responders arrived.

When the police and first responders arrived, the questions flew. The more questions they asked me, the more I wanted to go sit by myself and process the whole thing. I finally got the chance to call my sister. I walked outside and sat alone on the steps. My mind was racing with thoughts of; did my dad feel any pain, what was he doing, was he scared, how long as he been lying there, did he feel alone, what if got I there sooner, what do we do now, should I be sad, should I be strong, did I do the right thing, on and on, my mind on overload. I was numb.

After the Funeral

I took the next couple weeks off of work to help my sister make the funeral arrangements. Most of my down time was spent sitting in the back yard watching clouds roll by. It was the only way I could clear my head. Looking back I realize that was the time my attitude toward life started to change. I remember thinking what is the point to strive for the things you want to accomplish in life. You can't take them with you. They are only temporary. I'm not sure if you would classify that as some sort of depression, but none the less, it wasn't the best way to be thinking at that point in time.

Panic Attacks

The first panic attack happened about 3 months after the funeral, when I was riding my motorcycle. I remember thinking about my dad and all the mixed emotions I had from the day I found him. I started to feel like there were a million pins pressed against my chest that trickled down to my arms. Not the best thing to happen when driving down the highway on a motorcycle with a passenger on the back. I pulled over on a side road to collect my thoughts and take a breather. I told Melissa (the passenger) that I wasn't feeling right and that we should turn back for home.

After that day there were random moments when I was driving to work thinking I was going to have a heart attack and die. Or when walking the dogs, I would think I was going have a heart attack and no one will be there to help. I was afraid to be alone. I would watch movies thinking about how the actors probably live their lives outside of work, and how easy their lives must be instead of being engaged in the movie. I was missing out on the moments that were right in front of me.

I finally went to the doctor and took a chance on taking medication, which I do not like. I have a hard time taking medication for a headache. Not my cup of tea. I can't remember what medication I started but I took one pill, the placebo effect kicked in, and I had another panic attack. This time I went to the hospital to get checked out. The EKG was normal. There was nothing physically wrong with me. It was all in my head. It would be another year before I would try meds again.

Hypochondria

After I convinced myself that I my heart is strong, my worries went another direction. The scaring thing about hypochondria is that some doctors believe that it can cause physical symptoms, and I will not argue against it. Every little ache and pain I felt triggered that something was wrong with me. All I could think about was cancer. Headache - cancer, stomach ache - cancer, pulled groin - cancer. It was endless. Talk about going down a rabbit hole. I always felt like something was wrong with me. And I was right. I needed help mentally but was not willing to give in to medication.

I started meditating more, eating a little healthier, got back to playing music more, which did help, a little bit. I tried to find ways to cope. I even went to therapy. I researched anything and everything to find ways rebuild my thought process and way of thinking. All the while I had a pain in my stomach that finally led into my chest and throat. I was diagnosed with GERD (Gastroesophageal reflux disease). 

It wasn't fun having GERD. Every time that I would eatI, I had stomach pain. It felt like someone was standing on my chest, and my throat was on fire. I was prescribed anti-acids for 2 weeks, but I went beyond and above by changing my diet thanks to the Acid Watcher Cookbook. (Note - I am just mentioning this book and will not receive any commissions if you buy it from the link.) The recipes in this book helped speed up the healing process. I was finally at a point where I could see light at the end of the tunnel, but there was a road block.

Insomnia

I must say 2020 was not the best year for many of us. For me it started on New Years day in the hospital because I was up for a week. I'm not exactly sure how many days and sleepless nights I had, but it was enough to scare me into thinking I was really going to die. My psychiatric evaluation was summarized as, and I quote, "You're pretty fucked up!" Which made me laugh and feel a little better. I finally knew I was going to get the help I need. The only thing that I needed to do is fight this thing a little longer and be patient.

The Road to Recovery

The first week of recovery was tough. I had to find the right regimen for my medications to work effectively. Basically, trial and error. So needless to say, I still didn't get much sleep right away. Since I don't like meds, I only used them a couple times to help me sleep. I discovered that my anti-depressant is best taken in the morning, while taking melatonin and magnesium helped at night. I stopped taking Hydroxyzine and Xanax. I did not like them one bit. No thank you.

I knew things were going in the right direction mentally because Melissa and I were moving into our new house at the end of January. The stress levels were high to say the least. We had to close on our old house before we could close on our new house. Typical real estate procedures. However, when the bank calls 2 days before closing on both houses and says that the mortgage on the new house did not go through, can cause stress levels to peak. So we were homeless for weekend. It could have been worse. I remember our lender saying how calm I was at handling the situation. The builders for our new house were understanding, as well as the movers we hired. The movers kept our belongings over the weekend at no charge. It was a brand new start to a brand new year. Or was it.

Two weeks after we moved in, COVID. At first I was unsure about the whole thing. I had friends that were scared, and friends that weren't. My anxiety would come and go, but it felt normal. I had a much better grip on it. Nothing really changed for me. I was fortunate and grateful that I could keep working. My thoughts and feelings are back to normal, and I am now ready to take the training wheels off and ween off the meds.

My Theory

I believe the combination of how my parents died is the reason for my anxiety. It would explain the panic attacks and the hypochondria. Plus, I never really got the chance to say goodbye to them. And there's not much more I can say about that.

Gratitude

I want to thank all of my friends, family, and professionals that have helped me along the way. The biggest thing I learned from this struggle is that things are temporary. We are temporary. Anxiety is temporary. Temporary in a way that it's always there, but comes and goes like strangers walking by. You may stop and chat for a brief moment, but in the end, you must part ways.

If you are suffering with anxiety, you are not alone. An estimated 40 million of us in the U.S. are out here. Don't be afraid to ask for help. Don't be embarrassed by it. Find someone you can trust and talk about it.

You got this!