The Silent Thief

Teddy Roosevelt said, "Comparison is the thief of joy." I generally think of myself as a fairly joyful person but at various times in my life, joy has been harder to come by. The depression and anxiety monster rears its ugly head from time to time and the past year has been no exception. As someone who's battled it for a long time, I've learned to identify the warning signs and to do things that will ward off a full blown spiral.

Last fall things took a bit of turn. Summers are often hard for me with the disruption of schedule and last summer was no exception. Medication, for me, has always been tricky because of some of the side effects. I made the decision to start again but that felt like a failure after almost ten years off of it. The school year was the most difficult of my career in education - it just seemed so many factors were conspiring against me - and I found myself literally standing at the door of my classroom and being unable to walk in. The anxiety and dread were all consuming and no matter how much I loved my job and the kids, the other stresses of a job in education started taking their toll. I made it through the school year and celebrated my son's wedding. As I learned in psychology - there are many kinds of stress and even good stress (eustress) is still stress. Heading into fall, the scars of the previous year were still raw and it was hard to get out of my head. 

With the many things going on at work and home, along with the looming decision of moving to the Tri-Cities, my nutrition suffered. I'd either eat too much or nothing. I battled Achilles tendinitis and bursitis in my hip. My miles decreased and so did my fitness. I decided to try adding cross training into my routine in the hopes of decreasing the repetitive demands on my body from running and to kick start my metabolism. If I'm honest - and I generally try to be - I am overly competitive and not always realistic about my goals. In my head, I should be able to do more than I can. It began to feel like my miracle year of 2017 was not the beginning of a new me like I'd dreamed, but rather a cruel joke. It gave me a taste of what I could do and be and I was excited to see where I could take it. Instead, after a year of getting fitter and faster, I found myself getting fatter and slower. I can look at others and find the positive but I cannot look at myself and see it. I want to celebrate my body and what it can do, but instead, I berate it (and myself) for letting me down or not meeting the (often unrealistic) expectations I put on it. I found myself having panic attacks at the gym because the workouts were too hard or I couldn't 'get' a certain exercise and others were. And then I'd get mad at myself for not being in good enough shape to be able to do it. Even though I was seeing progress and knew I was getting stronger, it wasn't enough. On top of that, other friends were seeing great results and running success and as happy as I was for them, I felt like I was slowly becoming that slow friend who was left behind to just cheer. Intellectually, I know this isn't the case, but my brain is a funny place and it easily likes to take a nosedive into the negative.  The whole "Your race, your pace" thing has never worked for me because I know what pace I want my race to be and somehow it keeps falling short. Or my efforts keep falling short. Sometimes for good reasons. Other times probably by self-sabotage. Work wasn't helping and after the previous rough year, I kept feeling like a failure and that others were doing a better job at teaching, at learning the curriculum, and at reaching struggling kiddoes. Colleagues were struggling and I hurt for them and wanted their load to be lighter, while not realizing how much carrying that hurt and struggle was adding to mine. I was letting comparison and stress rob me of my joy.

Some folks with depression or anxiety have spirals where days or weeks can find them in a murky quagmire. I've had those too but, often, it's completely sporadic and episodic. I can be fine one moment and find myself questioning whether I am worthy of a place on this earth the next. My brain is a never ending stream of worry, negativity and "what if?" I had one of those moments after a hard workout at the gym. It didn't go well and I decided to go for a run to try and salvage the workout. As I was running onto an overpass, the death metal voice in my head, kept saying, "Jump, jump, jump." The rational voice (angel on my shoulder?) said, "GET OFF THE BRIDGE, TAIRA!" So, I turned around, cut the workout short. Got into my car and sobbed. I went home early from work. I made it through the last week of work before break exhausted. Winter Break pretty much saw me have a complete breakdown. I knew I was in the weeds, but I just didn't care. I didn't have the desire to fake it. I was mad at myself for sinking into that pit. I felt I didn't have "good" reasons for it - other people were struggling more than me, with health, finances, loss, and relationship struggles. I was checking in with Gary but it wasn't quieting the voice enough. For whatever reason, I confessed some of this to a dear friend on a walk. She didn't let me out of the car until I'd made an appointment with my doctor. She made sure I kept it. After two weeks of daily check-ins with the doctor, social worker, and/or therapist and adjusting meds, vitamins and diet, I *think* I've turned a corner. I went for a run and was able stop and appreciate the beauty of traffic in the morning and not hear that constant negative voice. Even better, I was able to be present and recognize that it was a moment.

I have had the (unfortunate/bad) habit of not following through on counseling but something feels different this time. Mainly, I'm tired of just managing depression and anxiety, I want to be better and heal. I know that means I have a lot of work to do. It means getting messy. It means facing some uncomfortable truths about myself and some of my relationships. It means feeling the feels,  more than I already do. It means pulling back from some things and investing more fully in others. 

I found this blog: https://www.anxiousmoms.com/ that often mirrors exactly what I'm feeling or what I've felt over the years (Some of them I've included in this post). It has been an enormous relief to see, in words, some of my same thoughts. Which is why I decided to write this blog post. Maybe it will be a relief for someone to see, in words, their thoughts or feelings here. If nothing else, it holds me accountable to practice what I preach. I want to be as strong and confident and happy as I looked in this pictures. I want to be honest and authentic. To live in the moment. To live. To keep trying. To find my own joy. To be. It isn't simple. But I imagine it's worth it. I wish these things for you as well, and anyone who's struggling. Our reasons for struggling can be different. Our road to healing can be different. What can be constant is our ability to reach out and support one another and to silence the thieves of joy.

I've made it a goal to blog more in 2020 - this blog has always been a lens to view myself through and 2020 seems a good year to improve my vision. Check in from time to time and see if you agree. As always, thanks for reading. Until next time.