Freak Out Friday

from Natalie Dee

According to the ever-reliable Dictionary.com, 

anxiety is defined as:

1. distress or uneasiness of mind caused by fear of danger or misfortune
2. earnest but tense desire; eagerness

Some anxiety is a good thing.  

It can be motivating.  It can keep us from doing foolish things.

Too much anxiety is debilitating.  

I tend to get anxious in social settings (which is weird since I'm an extrovert).  After I leave a social setting, I will ask D, "Did I say anything stupid?  Did I talk too much?  Did I talk too little?  Was I rude?  Did I do ok?"

Every. Time.

Usually, he reassures me that I did fine, that I still have friends, and that I'm not as social inept as I feel.

Tonight I attended a bridal shower.

Which means no boys allowed.

Which means no D there to listen to my bumbling social interactions and reassure me afterwards.

By the time I got into my car to drive home from the shower, I was an anxious wreck.

I was sure I overstayed my welcome, said too much, was too loud, and was rude to people I should've talked to.

And there was no one to talk me down from my ever-growing anxiety mountain.

Maybe this is just me, but when I start feeling anxious about one thing, suddenly everything makes me anxious.

By the time I got home, my list of anxieties was taking over my head.

I felt anxious about my broken car, the DMV still having our wrong address despite many efforts to change it, Christmas, how we're going to pay for Christmas gifts, how to pick out the best Christmas gifts, J's teeth still not coming through, my dirty bathroom, my pile of dishes, the disaster zone that I call my bedroom, the fact that I didn't call my Grandma on her birthday, that my sister had texted me that she needed to talk but wasn't picking up her phone, that we haven't gotten more Christmas cards in the mail, that we haven't sent out Christmas cards yet, and on and on.

 

And then I freaked out in my head.

I'm a terrible granddaughter.  My sister must be dead.  No one likes us and wants to send us cards.  People think we hate them because they haven't gotten a card from us.  I'm a terrible wife/mother/housekeeper because my home is a mess.  Our family will think that we're cheapskates because we can't afford ritzy Christmas gifts.  Our family will think that we don't love them because we pick out crappy gifts.  

  

All of the anxieties and freak outs spun around in my head, magnifying each other, making it seem like my world was crashing down, there was no reason to be happy, and life was more than I could handle.

 

And then I freaked out out loud to D.

And I realized I'm ok.

 

So maybe I made a fool of myself at the shower.  Shake it off, do better next time.

The other anxieties that were there, waiting in the wings, I can deal with them.  One at a time.

The freaking out is illogical.  Shut those thoughts down.

But sometimes, you just need a good old-fashioned anxiety fest and hear all your worries out loud to realize that you're actually ok.

By saying what I'm anxious about out loud, my anxieties stop magnifying each other and getting all tangled in one another and I can look at each one individually.  And take back control.

 

So, freak out!  Out loud!  

Look those anxieties in the face and say I see you and I am strong enough to tackle you.

And then, take a deep breath and take a step forward.