The Bad: A Next Day Consideration

Sometimes when you have mental issues, it's difficult to see progress. This is especially true when you're in the middle of an episode. Last night, as I was writing my blog and crying so hard I almost lost my ability to see the screen, things were horrible. I'm not going to try and sugarcoat how bad an anxiety attack can be.  It's a dark place.

However, the beautiful thing about therapy and building defenses and patterns to combat the attacks is that you come to realize that, while the attack is bad, it isn't forever.

Of course, even without therapy and the other stuff, you know this. You know you have your "good day" and your "bad days." However, you tend to view the world as either/or.  You start to believe that your bad days are real and your good days are some mass illusion you created just to keep from killing yourself.

That isn't true though.  When you have an anxiety disorder, you don't have "good" and "bad" days. You just have days where sometimes your symptoms are really active and days when you're stable.  When your symptoms are active, you have to work harder. You have to keep your thoughts in order.  And, sometimes, you have to accept that the attack is going to come and just brace yourself for it.

Of course, the bad part is that its an internal war. All of this hell that you're feeling is happening inside you.  As painful as that is though, it's also the best part.  It means it's a matter of perception, temporary perception. Anxiety doesn't warp reality. It just warps your perceptions of it.

And, okay, here's the thing. Even though I was in The Bad, I was still able to write about it. I was still able to make sentences that functioned together. I wasn't curled up in fetal position on my bed, unable to do anything but cry and shake. That's what anxiety used to do to me.  At least I've been able to move past that . . . most of the time.

So right now, I'm good. Actually, I was good by this morning, which is pretty remarkable recovery time for me.  And yes, I know some people would feel I was being indulgent by writing about this. In our society, often we believe people who document their pain are just doing so to get attention.  Sometimes this is true, though quite often I believe if people are trying to get attention, they probably really need some.

People who are ill need to document what's going on with them. They need to talk about the progression or the regression of their situ.  They need to write about the pain, about the fear, about the actions or people or stimuli that trigger them. I think too often we live in the midst of our conditions with no context to what is happening with them.  This isn't a way to get healthy.

Writing helps a lot.  Even if it's just to dredge up one moment of sanity at a time.