Almost a year ago, I set out on a mission to find a way to control my anxiety. I wanted to start therapy and learn how to move past all the things that were holding me back, like my father leaving me, my shaky faith, and my social anxiety. I went into therapy full throttle, expecting it to be this grand time of gabbing and opening my heart and crying and feeling so great about letting it all hang out.

The truth is, letting it all hang out is hard. So hard that I… really didn’t know how to do it. I didn’t know how to open up to someone I had just met. I think this is partly where my self-esteem issues lie, where I’m worried that I’m wasting this therapist’s time with my little woe-is-me problems. I’m not depressed or suicidal or dealing with the death of a loved one or anything like that. I’m just… anxious a lot. Feeling abandoned. Feeling confused. Feeling hurt.

During my first therapy session, I had to fill out a questionnaire about myself, mainly to give the therapist an idea of where I was at mentally and how she could help me. The questionnaire scared me to death. I felt my hands growing cold and clammy and my mind racing as my eyes scanned the page. I don’t remember exactly the questions that were asked, but I remember this crippling feeling of fear as I thought about what I was doing. I was admitting I had a problem. I couldn’t handle this problem on my own. I needed help. But reaching out and asking for help isn’t in my nature, it isn’t something I do naturally. I would rather spend 30 minutes trying to figure out a work problem on my own than take 1 minute to ask a coworker, because I don’t want to inconvenience them and I want to do it on my own. So admitting this? Admitting that I needed therapy to solve a problem? That was hard. It’s still hard to come to terms with. I know, logically, it’s not weak to ask for help. I know it takes intense courage and bravery and strength to ask for help, to go to therapy. But I felt weak. I felt broken and used and discouraged and even a little hopeless. I filled out that questionnaire with a shaky hand, knowing I wasn’t completely truthful in my answers, that I marked some things as “never” or “once in a while” that should have been marked as “often.” I didn’t want her to automatically think I was a basket case. Even though I most likely was. (Am?)

I couldn’t be honest with myself, because I was so scared of what someone – this stranger, this person who deals with people like me for a living, who wants to help me – might think. I was terrified of really putting a name on this mental battle I was waging every day.

And then there were my therapy appointments. My therapist was a woman, a Christian, someone who seemed like the perfect fit for me. And while the sessions were enlightening, I couldn’t open up to her. I didn’t know how to really go about telling her how I felt about some things. And maybe part of that is that I’ve been so good at hiding what I’m feeling, of tucking away these little pieces of my anxiety into their safe place, that I didn’t know how to express what I was feeling. I couldn’t be honest with her because I didn’t know how to be honest with myself.

I felt lost in therapy. I felt as if I was floundering and I was wasting her time and wasting my time and it all felt pointless. I didn’t know what to say. I guess I just thought therapy would be a little bit easier. Not in the way where it would feel as if I were at Disney World for an hour, but easy in the way where I would have a place where I could talk openly and freely. As if she would ask the questions and I would answer them. But she didn’t ask the questions.

Perhaps we just weren’t a good match, and perhaps I wasn’t ready then.

But then my job change happened and my anxiety was at its all-time worst. I was anxious about leaving a decent job for a new one. (What if I was fired?) I was anxious about telling my boss I was leaving. (What if she gets upset?) I was anxious about starting a new job. (What if I’m expected to know everything there is to know about SEO copywriting on the first day?) I was anxious about where I would sit and the people I would work with. (What if they were mean?) I was anxious about a new commute, a new building, a new lunch room. (What if I hate this new job?)

Obviously, these are probably the same fears most people have when leaving the comfortable for the unfamiliar, when going through a big change, but it all felt magnified. I couldn’t sleep and I felt as if I was in a constant state of panic and fear and doubt and played the “What If” game like a pro. While everyone around me was telling me how excited they were for me, I was just trying to keep my head above water. I was just trying to not fall apart.

It was then I decided I needed to be honest with myself. While I am a generally happy person, can find the silver lining in most situations, and know how blessed I am with the life I have, I struggle with anxiety and it holds me back from so many things. Coupled with my anxiety is my low self-esteem which, at 25 years old, I had hoped to have had a handle on. I had hoped I could look past everything I’m not to see everything I am. But I can’t and I struggle with it and when you struggle with low self-esteem, it’s hard to get ahead in life. You second-guess everything, from building strong friendships to finding love to taking leaps of faith to even understanding your place in therapy. My self-esteem held me back from fully diving into all therapy could bring me, because I was too worried that my therapist had better things to do than listen to little ole me blabber about the silly things that brought her pain.

I don’t have a neat way to wrap up this post. I didn’t come to any major epiphanies about how to control my anxiety or help my self-esteem. And I’m still struggling with learning how to be honest with myself. I know I need to be in therapy, so if you’re going to give me advice about that, I know I need it. And maybe the major epiphany is that I realize how much I still struggle with my self-worth and self-esteem. Maybe it’s understanding that I need to learn to be honest with myself. And that opening up to a stranger doesn’t have to be scary. And that my problems are important, even if they feel small in the grand scheme of things. If it’s affecting my life and causing me to miss out on experiences and relationships, then these small-to-me problems are big problems.

So maybe my first try at therapy didn’t work out. Maybe I didn’t connect with the right therapist and maybe it wasn’t the right time and maybe I didn’t magically learn how to be open about my feelings and what I’m going through. I still believe in therapy, I still want to find that right person. But if it taught me one thing, it taught me that I have to believe I am worthy enough for therapy. I have to be truthful with myself and with my therapist about my emotions and thoughts and feelings, and to stop downgrading how I feel because it makes me nervous or feel bad about myself. I have to trust that by giving a voice to my anxiety, it will be the catalyst to change.

It’s not a secret that I struggle with anxiety. I struggle with a constant state of fear, knots in my tummy, an all-consuming worry that something awful is about the befall me and/or my family at any given moment. And because of my anxiety, it leads to all other sorts of complications in my life: not taking chances, not being as social as I know I can be, self-confidence issues and tons and tons of doubt flowing through my mind on a daily basis. Panic attacks are infrequent as I can recognize the signs and generally calm myself down, but they still happen.

It is exhausting. It is so exhausting. And I hate feeling like there is something wrong with me, like I am broken and need to be fixed.

What is stopping you from making an appointment with a therapist? is the question Ashley posed to me during our 60-minute call on Friday night.

I could give tons of excuses: laziness, not really knowing how to go about setting up an appointment, money, etc. I can cite my (self-prescribed) social anxiety and how the thought of stepping into an office where I have to talk about my feelings on a regular basis scares the crap out of me. I don’t like talking about my feelings (which is probably why my last pseudo-relationship ended like it did because he was all “Let’s talk about our FEEEEELINGS!” and I’m all, “So, did you see the game last night?”) and I just prefer to shove all my actual emotions deep down into my heart and not deal with them. I would rather put on a happy face and act like things don’t hurt me than actually deal with my feelings. I’m getting better at it but it’s not something that comes easily for me.

My family has never been a touchy-feely, let’s-talk-about-our-feelings family. With my mom and my brother, we are getting better and better at communicating and expressing ourselves but there’s still that tendency to shove everything under the rug, keep our mouths shut, and pretend everything is hunky-dory. It’s easier. Simpler. Less involved.

And while all of the above is true, I think there’s also one big reason I keep putting off therapy.

My father.

Most of you are familiar with the background surrounding my father’s relationship with me (short story? He decided he did not want to be a part of my life anymore after I actually expressed how I felt about his treatment of me throughout the years. He sent me a scathing reply back, with words no daughter should ever hear from her father. See why I don’t like talking about my feelings?)

I’ve been holding onto my resentment, my anger, my sadness surrounding our relationship. I’ve been keeping it locked up tight. It may sound funny since I actually talk about my father a lot on this blog it seems, but it’s something I don’t open up much about in my life. I don’t want people to think I’m seeking their pity and honestly, it’s a pretty personal subject that I only bring up if I have advice or an “insider’s view” to offer someone. I’m a private person to MOST people and I can count on one hand the number of people I feel comfortable enough talking about my actual feelings on things that are private & personal. I tend to shut down emotionally when people bring my dad up, because it only serves to dredge up emotions I’d rather not deal with and all-consuming sadness that my father is still alive and well, yet wants nothing to do with me. It breaks my heart anew every day.

I managed to open up to Ashley about my dad and how I was a bit frightened what would be expected of me in regards to talking about him. And it’s something I could keep refusing to talk about (even in therapy) but it’s something I know I have to stop refusing to talk about. I have to open up about it. I have to express my feelings. I have to let myself cry about our failed relationship. Did you know I’ve cried ONCE about my dad? One. Time. That was when he sent me the nasty reply back. Since then, though I may be on the verge of tears, I don’t let them fall. I do everything in my power to keep those tears inside my eyeballs, because I can’t let him win. I can’t let him make me cry.

I’m scared to talk about my father, because I am so emotional over him. I am so, so sad and so, so angry. I want him back in my life so badly, yet I know unless I get an apology, I can’t let him back in my life. I’m scared to stop holding onto this resentment and anger and sadness and guilt because it’s the one thing that keeps him in my life. It’s my one grasp on my father. If I talk about him, if I actually let go of the anger and sadness, then I actually have to let him go. He will no longer have this hold over me. And he will be gone from my life. Not entirely, because he is still my father and he will always be a part of my heart, but in a big way, I will be letting him go.

That scares me to death.

But on the other hand, I know it will be the most freeing thing I can do to myself. I know it’s holding me back from so much. I know I let his words affect my life and my actions way too much. And to finally work through the pain, work through the emotions, work through our relationship will be the best thing I can do to let go and move on with my life. He may never be the father I need him to be to allow him back into my life, and I have to be okay with that.

During the call with Ashley, one of my action steps to take was to set up a therapy appointment. That’s the first step in healing, in figuring out how to control my anxiety, and something I continue to put off because I’m terrified with what therapy will reveal to me. But I’m tired of this half-life I am living, tired of feeling too broken to be in a relationship, tired of the constant worry that eats away at me every day. I’m ready to figure out what steps I need to take to live a life with more abundance and everyday joy.

So I made an appointment. On Halloween. I am going to therapy.

Any advice you can give a first-time therapy goer is greatly appreciated! I am quite nervous, but also feel relieved to have crossed the first hurdle in taking care of myself.

It happened on a Tuesday night, during Bible study. It was after we had discussed our homework for the week, after watching the weekly video, slipped in during the last bits of conversation.

And it was exactly what I have been searching for.

As anyone who has been reading my blog for any manner of time knows, I have struggled with fear and anxiety for the majority of my life. I just didn’t have a name for this constant state of worry until the early part of last year. I thought it was just a part of who I am; it didn’t occur to me it was something I could control.

And then I started getting panic attacks. Late in the night, waking me up from a deep sleep with ragged breaths, chest pain, and a feeling that something was terribly wrong.

“Jesus, I need you to help me breathe. Jesus, I need you to help me breathe,” was the only thought racing through my brain.

That isn’t normal. Constant worry isn’t normal. It was anxiety.

I talked to a friend about it. I brought it up to my mom. I discussed it with my grandma (who has dealt with debilitating anxiety attacks). They all concurred with what I thought. Anxiety.

Right now, my women’s Bible study group is going through the study Stuck by Jennie Allen. I was incredibly excited about this series, dealing about all the places we feel stuck in our relationship with God. Jennie is an amazing speaker and writer and with each new chapter, I’m smacked in the face with a new way of looking at my relationship with God.

I’ll be honest: I had a bit of a faith crisis last year. It wasn’t that I had stopped believing in God, but I came to a fork in the road and I didn’t have the right tools to take me on the path I needed to be on. I was focused on what other people around me were doing, comparing my life to theirs, trying to make sure it measured up to the standard they seemed to want it at. I was trying to understand God and frankly, sometimes His ways are hard to understand.

Luckily, with a new year came a new attitude about my faith – as well as a new women’s Bible study. I have never felt more welcome or accepted at a church than I am at Bible study. (I’ve been to youth groups and young adult groups at church where I feel completely unwelcome and out of place. It’s hard being an introvert at church!) Our first study was a Beth Moore one and you better believe it was a good one. Is it possible for Beth Moore to write a bad study? I think not.

And then came Stuck. The weekly homework isn’t as involved as Beth Moore’s was, but Jennie finds a way to pack a punch in the short few pages she gives us. We’ve dealt with brokenness, discontentment, anger, and last week: fear. I was excited to dig in and discover what Jennie had to say about fear and just like the other weeks, it was eye-opening.

I’ve never looked at my fear and anxiety in the way Jennie described it: as a sin*. A sin. I’m telling God that I don’t trust Him, that He is not in control. I’m telling Him that what other people think about me is more important than what He thinks. I am so concerned by how people perceive me that I have anxiety attacks for what people will think of me if this happens or that happens.

Every time I start worrying and panicking, I’m telling God, “I don’t trust You to know what’s good for me. I don’t trust You to take care of the people around me. I don’t trust You to be there when my world shatters.”

“I tell you, my friends, do not be afraid of those who kill the body and after that can do no more. But I will show you whom you should fear: fear him who, after your body has been killed, has authority to throw you into hell. Yes, I tell you, fear him.” Luke 12:4-5

That verse took my breath away. Fear God. All of my other fears and anxiety get me nowhere. Sure, I can worry that something bad might happen to someone I love. I can worry about how others perceive me. I can worry about getting a terrible diagnosis. I can worry about losing my job, my apartment burning down, not having enough money to eat. But honestly, where does all that worry get me? Does it help me in any way? The only thing worry gives us is control. If I have something to worry about, maybe the worst won’t happen. By placing all my worries into God’s capable hands, I am giving up control.

For someone who is a worrywart, it’s hard to give up that control. To say, I won’t worry about worst-case scenarios anymore. If they happen, they happen. I firmly believe in the saying, everything happens for a reason. Sometimes, it’s hard to believe in that reason. It’s hard to understand why my grandma was given a cancer diagnosis three times. Or to reason my mom getting hit by a car. To believe my father leaving me was for my good. Bad things happen and bad things will always happen. (Until we’re in heaven, that is!) But to worry about the possibility of them happening? To let myself get wrapped up in my fear?

It’s killing my spirit.

What if I just stopped? What if, every time a worrisome thought crossed my thoughts, I gave it directly to God? What if I fully gave Him control over my life? What if I trusted Him to know what’s best for me? Trusted Him to know what’s best for my loved ones?

It would be hard. Worry is such an integral part of me that to not worry? That feels weird. I feel out of control and reckless.

But it could also be the most freeing thing I could do to myself.

*I want to clarify that Jennie does not, in any way, think there is anything wrong with having an anxiety disorder. She fully understands that some people need therapy and/or medication to control their anxiety. But before she went that route, she wanted to see what the Bible had to say about dealing with fear/anxiety. I still intend on seeking out therapy about my anxiety, but my eyes have been opened to a new way of approaching my fears.

I’m not a big fan of Halloween. I don’t know why, but it’s never been a holiday that fills me with excitement. Growing up, I didn’t put too much thought into my costume, never went to a haunted house, and the only plus side to the whole holiday was the candy. I don’t understand why people enjoy being scared by visiting such events as Halloween Horror Nights and Howl-O-Scream or watching scary movies. Or maybe I don’t understand it because I live it every day.

I live my life in a constant state of fear. My stomach feels in a perpetual state of knots of everything that I worry about throughout the day.

Worry I will get a call, saying someone in my family has died.

Worry I will be fired from my job.

Worry something I blog about or tweet will be ripped apart and crucified.

Worry something terrible will happen to my dog.

Worry I will find out I have a terrible disease (or cancer) when I finally drag myself to the doctor.

Worry my anger will get the better of me while driving and cause an accident.

Worry I will end up in prison. (Like father, like daughter?)

Worry I don’t have what it takes to live a healthy lifestyle.

Worry about what people think of me: as a girl who is perpetually single, still lives with her mom, and has few friends (at least in real life).

Worry I am wasting my life away and will look back with regret on the life I led.

Fear is an awful way to live. It infests itself in every facet of your life, causing you to pass by opportunities and lose focus. You look behind you, instead of ahead. You never feel safe, never feel fully happy and content. You burrow further and further into this shell you’ve created because it’s the only place you feel a modicum of peace. It’s never full peace, but it’s there and for now, that’s OK.

It’s not OK. It’s not OK to go about life this way. It’s not OK for me to never feel safe. It’s not OK for me to worry about every little situation that can occur. It’s not OK for me to demean myself when something goes wrong. It’s not OK for me to continue to let fear live inside of me, to let impossible could-be situations crop up and grab hold of my heart.

I go to bed with my heart racing. I wake up in the middle of the night convinced my mother lay dead in her bed. I spend my entire day in fits of worry, fear manifesting itself in every little way it can.

It’s an awful way to live and it’s time to do something about it. It’s time to stop letting the fear control my life and start punching it in the face.

I’m 23 years old. I have an entire lifetime to live. And I refuse to spend that lifetime in fear.

Note: When my insurance kicks in next month, I plan on finding out if therapy appointments are covered. I work for a small company, so I’m not 100% sure it will be. Even if they don’t, I know there are other, more financially feasible options available for me. I know I suffer from some form of anxiety, but I’m not sure what or if it would require medication or just finding a way to talk through my issues. (Possibly both.) What I do know is these intense level of worry and fear is not normal and I need help.

Towards the end of January, I posted the first part of this series. Basically, I talked about the little things that were happening in my life that made me believe I was dealing with One Big Problem. Since then, I’ve been very hesitant to continue with this series. I’ve never been diagnosed and most of what I believe about myself regarding anxiety is from what I’m reading on websites. Some days, I feel as if I’m dealing with anxiety and need to seek help to conquer it…and other days, I feel as if I’m only dealing with a severe case of introvertedness. (<—not a word.)

But the fact remains that there’s something going on. And I need to figure out what it is before it consumes my entire life.

After searching for a while, I fell on this website. Every scenario outlined, I found myself nodding my head to and agreeing with. Yes, that’s me. Yes, exactly. Yes, I know that feeling. At that point, it seemed as if it was all coming together. I had a name: Social Anxiety Disorder. Better than a name, I had a reason for the way I was. This wasn’t something I needed to get over and grow up from. This was the way my mind is programmed. There is a reason behind my weirdness. But as much as I nodded my head and agreed, as I continued reading, my stomach began to churn. I began to question if this was really me. Is this the person I’ve become? So afraid of my environment, so fearful of being judged? This can’t be me! I lead a pretty full life of college and work and hanging out with my… mom.

I borrowed a book from the library last month about Social Anxiety. And while some parts made me tear up that finally, someone is talking about all those things I’ve dealt with, there were parts that didn’t seem to completely fit me. But then again, maybe they do.

Many Social Anxiety sufferers can’t hold a job. I can, but I struggle with taking initiative, fearful of stepping on toes or having someone tell me I’m doing it the wrong way.

Many Social Anxiety sufferers can’t go out to social scenes. I do, but I am very careful to create an environment where I am comfortable. I will take a friend or my mom along. If all else fails, I will sit in a corner, trying to look busy on my phone, making sure I send off enough danger vibes to keep everyone away.

Many Social Anxiety sufferers develop a fear of intimacy. I can agree wholeheartedly with this statement. I shy away from any guy who tries to show me attention. I’ve never had a typical guy-girl relationship. While I know so many people who are afraid to be alone, I worry I’m this strange girl who actually fears being with someone. There are days I long to have a partner in life and days when I think life is just easier solo.

Many Social Anxiety sufferers have a fear of public embarrassment. This is actually a pretty normal fear, especially stage fright, and it’s never been enough to take over my life. I’ve made speeches to classes and even did student teaching, where I was constantly judged by more experienced teachers. Maybe it’s completely normal, but I find myself start blushing, grow hot, and feel shaky whenever I’m put on the spot. I seem to forget my entire vocabulary and lose trains of thoughts justlikethat. Whenever I was student teaching, I was constantly stumbling over words and leaving long pauses when I knew my teachers were watching me. I feel like this is a normal reaction, though, so it’s never been something I’ve worried too much about. But maybe there’s more to this than I realized.

And there are other symptoms I deal with:

• Avoiding plans with friends because I’m worried about how they will judge me or laugh at me, for silly things I might say.
• Feeling as if my heart is going to beat out of my chest when I have to call someone, even if it’s just a simple call to my grandparents.
• Not being able to successfully live on campus by myself. I came home every weekend, and ended up moving back after my freshman year. I didn’t like the social atmosphere and found it extremely hard to make friends.

While I don’t feel as if I have an extreme case of Social Anxiety, there is something going on. It could end up being an extreme case of being an introvert. I honestly don’t know. But as I read up on it, it becomes apparent that all these things I thought just added to my weirdness, are actually symptoms of Social Anxiety. It just feels nice to put a name to it all.

I’ve been hesitant for a while to talk about it. Since I know many people face it, and some cases are way more severe than I feel mine is, I didn’t feel like I had a right to use the word.

Maybe it’s just worry. Maybe I’m just a high-level worrywart. I mean, it doesn’t affect my life, right? I can still function, albeit I can’t exactly do the things I want to do, like join a book club or get involved at my church. But that’s just because I’m shy, not anything serious.

In November, I had my first panic attack. It happened around 2am one morning, waking me up from broken sleep. My breathing was ragged, my body hot, and my thoughts swirling. Is this what death feels like? Slow down, Steph, just breathe. You’re OK. You’re OK. You’re OK.

I didn’t mention it to anyone. I thought there was something medically wrong with me, asthma or some such, so I kept it a secret. I had no idea what it was but it went away the next day so I pretended things were normal.

In December, I had another one. It happened again in the middle of the night. I couldn’t catch my breath. It felt like I had run a million miles at top speed. My body was hot, my body was cold. My mind again racing. What was wrong with me? Do I need to go to the ER? Why does this crap always happen to me? I really can’t breathe! Jesus, I need your help. Just help me breathe. Jesus, just help me breathe.

I ended up Google-ing my symptoms the next day and realizing it could have been an anxiety attack. I even went and talked to my grandma, who has had severe attacks in the past, and she confirmed it. Since that night, I’ve carried this problem with me. I’m so hesitant to put a name on what I’m facing because it feels so final. And what if I’m wrong? What if all I’m experiencing is high-grade worry?

I’ve been talking to the ever-lovely Kyla Roma about this very issue, and she put it this way: “I think the biggest thing to know is that if it’s an anxiety disorder vs. if it’s not is really subjective, and it really comes down to one question: Does it interfere with your life?’”

Does it interfere with my life? In a word, yes.

Stay tuned for Part II and III – where I talk about how anxiety affects my life and what I’m doing to combat it.

photo credit: v, v, v