Taking Back Control and Rising Above the Anxiety
Looking back at my life, I can say that I had a great upbringing. But even so, I felt like the black sheep in my family—the very emotional and highly sensitive one.
As a child, I was attention-seeking and needy. I remember that I would panic a lot. My parents could not drive long distances because I’d scream at the top of my lungs even after arriving at the destination. I’d suffer through many panic attacks and didn’t know why. Now, as a thirty-eight-year-old, I can still say that I’m the worst passenger. I don’t know what it is about being in a car that makes me anxious and uncomfortable.
As a teenager, I was diagnosed with General Anxiety Disorder (GAD), so our family doctor prescribed me antidepressants. I was on them for about a year. Sadly, within that time, the antidepressants did not help my anxiety. If anything, I felt worst. I was becoming even more anxious. And when I got off of them, I could not fall asleep. My mind was racing all the time. I would catastrophize every little thing, imagining the worst-case scenarios. Going through the motions of these feelings is debilitating. It’s as though I was losing grip and out of control. As a result, I sought to relieve myself through self-mediation. I started taking cough syrup and Nyquil to fall asleep. I was addicted to it for a year. And when my mom found out, she took it away from me.
Eventually, I resorted to engaging in breathing exercises to help me sleep.
Although falling asleep is not a central struggle, I must admit that now and then, I start to panic around bedtime. Early in young adulthood, around my twenties, I continued to experience high panic attacks. I found that nothing alleviated what I was feeling, so I resorted to using drugs and alcohol. But in the process, all I gained was the suppression of my anxiety disorder.
Nothing was helping me. And nothing was improving my state of mind.
I recall that after waking up from a whole night of partying, I would spend weeks upon weeks with horrible anxiety attacks. I’d fall asleep on floors, specifically the bathroom floor, because something about it was comforting. It was like my safe space.
These motions and waves of panic and anxiety felt overwhelming at times, but I didn’t know what to do nor how to approach it.
Something happened when I turned twenty-six—I had my first child. This brought on meaning and purpose to my life. Being a mother made me feel happier and helped me enjoy life. Maybe the fact that I was busy caring for my child helped decrease my anxiety. I was no longer my main focus. Now, it was my child who needed my love and attention.
After a year post-partum, I realized my self-esteem suffered greatly because of the insecurity I felt. I had gained one hundred pounds when I was pregnant with my son, which may have contributed to my insecurity. What I needed most was mental clarity.
Things shifted when my son was two years old—I started partying again.
I wanted to believe that the party life was helping my anxiety.
On the contrary, it was worsening what I felt. I constantly chased new highs, devoted my time to planning events, and was always excited about the next holiday or family party. This is how I lived amid busyness, waiting and living for the next best thing. Busy became a coping mechanism.
Life continued to take twists and turns. I went through a separation from my son’s dad. I remarried, and the man I married had a child from his previous marriage, so I became a bonus mom just like that.
By age 34, I gave birth to my second child. You could say that this was a pivotal moment in my life.
When my daughter was about six months old, I came face to face with an internal reality. I was not entirely happy with myself, yet a surge of motivation arose in me. I knew I could do better financially, physically, and in every way. And I believed this was my chance to focus on healing, growing, and transforming myself.
Though my time was limited, I knew I had to do something.
When my son was about six years old, I started noticing many symptoms of what I had experienced all my life in my son. I knew then that I had to begin doing my research and equip myself, so he wouldn’t have to go through what I went through all my life. Deep inside, a flame was ignited. It was clear that if things were going to change, I had to change. I had to become a beacon and guide for my son. To raise my children healthily, I had to rise above the emotions I felt and take back control.
Living with anxiety and experiencing episodes of panic is beyond simple and easy. It’s challenging and feels like harsh waves that do not cease.
At age 37, I discovered I was misdiagnosed with General Anxiety Disorder (GAD). What I was really dealing with was ADHD. I understood that after all this time, the anxiety suppressed the ADHD, and when I had the tools to heal my anxiety, that is when my ADHD was no longer suppressed. It came out at full throttle.
One of the lessons that I learned from my experience is that it’s much harder to go against the wave than to surrender to them. Surrender in this context does not mean giving up.
It means that instead of resisting panic and anxiety, you focus, identify your triggers, process the emotions, engage in rational retrospection, and quiet the catastrophizing chatter.
You can take back control and learn to rise above restlessness.
You can rewire your brain to learn to respond to challenges in positive ways.
I welcome you to my world, mind, and life, dealing with utter feelings of helplessness due to my mental state.
Written by Shalene Martin
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