Appreciation.

I am humbled and thankful for everyone's love and support after my last post about battling anxiety and panic attacks. I thought it came across in the entry, but when I scanned it again after I published it, maybe it didn't. I was really really scared to publish that post. Anxious, you might say.

What would be the consequences of outing myself as someone who was struggling with something this serious? Dare I even say the words that I hate so much -- mental illness. I'm so torn by that definition. On one hand, it means that what has happened to me is like any other sickness so it's not my fault. I can't be blamed if I get the flu or some sort of genetic disease, right? But mental illness is such a loaded term -- and what I am facing is much less severe than others in that group.

It's this tough line that I walk every day. I don't want your pity -- anyone's pity -- or sympathy, really. I hope for empathy and compassion -- and that people will just try to understand. Thank you for your kind words of support -- thank you for trying to understand what I'm going through. Thank you for the public cheers, the private messages, and the in-person hugs, smiles, and acknowledgments. Thank you for still keeping me in your social circle, even when I'm likely to not be as sparkly as I normally am.

When you struggle with anxiety, you're thinking about the worst-case scenario. I've learned to tame that beast a little. Instead of letting the thoughts completely control me, I've learned to step back and walk through a structured thought process. What really is the worst thing that could happen? Might it be a bit of a stretch to say that by sharing my story that I'll lose lots of friends and that everyone will look at me differently? What evidence do I have for this? What makes me so sure that it would happen? What other outcomes are possible?

I've never been so thankful to be a coach. Yes, it is quite different to turn things around and use it on myself. Harder. So much harder. But I'm trying and I'm learning. I have to cut really deep because these assumptions have been a part of me for so long that they seem to be real instead of just a filter that has dropped in front of my eyes.

Life, of course, presents a never-ending stream of opportunities to practice. I am in California this Monday and Tuesday for a short business trip, and even though I've done this a few times -- this traveling with anxiety -- it still gets my stomach in knots. But I'm learning how to compensate and how to distract myself with things that keep my mind away from those worst-case scenario thoughts. Once the plane leaves the runway, something inside of me eases and I settle into the routine. I was just getting used to losing a routine and being more carefree about schedules and whatnot, and here I am, running back to it to get a little bit of sanity.

Old habits die hard.

Yet I am cautiously optimistic this week. The newest round of medicines seem to be the best yet. My energy is up to a more normal level and, for once, I'm catching a break on side effects. I'm sleeping a little more too, and I actually saw the inside of the gym four times last week (moderate workouts only -- but a huge accomplishment considering that my favorite workout as of late as been walking to the pantry or fridge to the couch and lifting the chocolate from the bar to my mouth).

This blog is now, thankfully, a safe space for me to share more about this process. I'll still share travelogues, book recommendations, and complain about issues that make me tick. And yes -- still the occasional gushy post about the boy or Astrix. I'm thankful that again this blog will be representative of my whole life and not just the parts that are visible when the social mask is on.

Without the mask I feel alive. I can breathe again.

xo,
Sarah