My Not So Secret Love Affair

I have been having a love affair with anxiety for about 15 years.

For some of the people close to me, this love affair has been a secret because I am what is called "high functioning anxiety".  This has been hard for me and hard for those who don't know about the affair.  It has been hard for me because anxiety is so much a part of my life that I forget that some people don't know that I live with anxiety and it affects me every day.  This is hard for those who only see the "high functioning" part of me.  They see that I can do many things that other people can't.  I can speak publicly; I can advocate for anyone (except me); and I am unabashed and unafraid. These people think that I am faking being ill.  Actually, they are completely wrong.  I have been actually faking being well.  They don't know that I have to bargain with my anxiety to present well in certain situations.  They don't know what I have to give up to present well.  They don't see the price I pay for being "high functioning."

Yes, I characterize my relationship with anxiety as a love affair.  It is a love affair because sometimes my anxiety serves me well.  I have a heightened sense of awareness of danger to me because of my anxiety.   I am hyper vigilant and that is like my super-power.  I can spot a potential danger before anyone else.  My anxiety protects me.  My anxiety also puts my life in perspective.  Since my anxiety remembers that I have lived through hell and back, it reminds me what is and isn't a problem.  Simply put, my anxiety helps me not sweat the small stuff.

Sometimes.  But, that is where the affair part comes in.  It is an affair because it is really something that shouldn't happen.  My relationship with my anxiety means that I'm cheating on myself.  I'm cheating because my anxiety lies.  The problem is, for me, because my anxiety protects me, I believe the lies that my anxiety tells me.

I want to start every day anew and healthy.  I get out of bed early and fully intend to have a healthy breakfast and go for a walk.  I feel good until I brush my teeth.  As I am looking in the mirror, my anxiety takes over.  It tells me I am ugly.  I believe my anxiety.  My anxiety tells me to forego a healthy breakfast and just have coffee.  After all, my anxiety tells me, I am so grossly overweight that I need to miss meals.  Don't listen to anyone but me, tells my anxiety, after all, we're lovers.  I know what is best for you.  Then my anxiety tells me not to go outside because out there is unpredictable and a little walk is not going to accomplish anything and you know that you won't be able to do this tomorrow, so why bother.  For some reason, I believe my anxiety has the power to predict the future.

I know my anxiety lies, yet,  I still believe my anxiety.  I ask myself why I still believe when it lies to me every day.  Well, my anxiety is getting even more manipulative and self-serving.  The more I am confronting my anxiety, the more my anxiety is preparing psychological manipulation to counter.

Saturday was a perfect example.  My anxiety prevented me from sleeping the night before so my morning was foggy and unclear.  I wasn't thinking properly.  My anxiety told me many things.  My anxiety told me that my other partner (the one I'm engaged to) wasn't as committed to me as I thought.  My anxiety told me that I could only really trust my anxiety.  Anxiety had been with me longer, after all.  My anxiety told me that I had no friends, no future, no hope, so stop trying, just accept.  I often don't challenge my anxiety but on Saturday I did.  I showed my anxiety that I had lots of friends and that I was actually strong and intelligent.  My anxiety knew that I was serious, so knew enough to back off.

My anxiety allowed me to have a perfect afternoon and a perfect evening.   By perfect, I mean normal.  That's another thing about high functioning anxiety.  A normal day for anyone else is a stupendous day for someone suffering from anxiety.  We know what a dark day is so we confuse normality for something extraordinary. That is also part of anxiety's master plan.  It makes the highs a little too high.  That way the crash is always a little bit harder, so anxiety wins again.

So, back to Saturday.  I ended up having a great day and participated in a hobby that I enjoy.  I interacted with people and spent time with friends and met a whole bunch of new people.  It was pretty nice.  At one point, a nice man gave me some advice about my hobby.  It was about storage of my supplies.  At the time, I thanked him for his nice suggestion and for taking the time to tell me.  At the time, I believed it.

By the time I went to bed, I felt physically, emotionally and mentally exhausted and I was pretty happy about that.  I was convinced that I would be able to sleep through the night and I was feeling very grateful.  I lay in bed and felt myself drifting off to sleep and at the moment when I felt my body going to have a release, my anxiety took over.  My anxiety focused on the man who gave me advice on storage of supplies.  All of a sudden, I started obsessing.  Why was he giving me this advice, he doesn't really know me.  He couldn't possibly just be kind.  He was setting me up somehow?  He was really laughing at me behind my back for not knowing this simple solution.  Why didn't I know this tip anyway?  Was I that stupid?  I thought I loved this hobby, well, maybe I don't if I couldn't have figured this out on my own?  Why am I so stupid?  I am stupid, I will never succeed.  It never dawned on me during these moments that my anxiety lies.  I was believing this lock, stock, and barrel.  I went from falling asleep to being totally awake.  Totally awake with my anxiety to keep me company.  My anxiety took me through every bad moment in my life.   Three hours later, I was exhausted again and tried to sleep.  My anxiety struck again.  This time with a new tactic.  My anxiety told me that my hair hurt and I wouldn't be able to sleep with my hair as it was.  I would have to brush it out, tie it up, but then that wouldn't work because I wouldn't be able to sleep on the bump.  I kept playing with my hair trying to get it not to hurt and my anxiety kept taunting me.  There was only one solution.  I had to cut my hair in the middle of the night by myself.  There was only one solution.  I had to sit up and watch tv so that my hair wouldn't hurt.

Last night I slept.  My hair didn't hurt.  Instead of using this as evidence that my anxiety lies, I feel grateful to my anxiety for letting me sleep.   It's ok, says my anxiety, I was happy to let you sleep, but, you owe me !!

The cycle continues.  Life with anxiety.  It really takes more energy than it would be to have an actual affair.