My Anxiety Story -- Part 1 (Why you didn't suspect I was anxious)

Many people reading this (assuming I actually go public) probably don't realize that I have Anxiety Disorder. It's not really something I share freely with people. The reason for that is, that once upon a time not so long ago, after I moved to the land of Oz, I did share it with someone while I was having a particularly embarrassing public (as in, someone other than my hubby witnessed it) panic attack in front of said person, and not long after that I was dropped from that social circle, never to be called or invited to things again. That was a tough pill to swallow. It was exactly the kind of reaction I feared the most -- having anxiety made me undesirable to be around. I haven't always had problems with anxiety. (In "Part 2", I'll explain more where my anxiety started.) I used to think people who were depressed and/or anxious were just self centered and generally unhappy. I didn't understand depression at all. I thought people should just "snap out of it". It made no sense to me that people could be so miserable all of the time. I used to feel like those people had a "choice" and they were "choosing" to be unhappy. Obviously now I know how wrong I was. But, I wasn't alone in that thinking. I couldn't have been because it was was obvious the instant that aforementioned "friend" witnessed by moment of panic, that she thought I was an insane head case. I've had good friends whom I've told about my anxiety laugh in my face when I said I wasn't able to go into the shop to buy bread because I had a panic attack, which is another reason I keep it under wraps.  I don't tell people because I want people to like me. That sounds kind of stupid when I admit it out loud. I'm not in high school anymore so the time for caring if the perfectly plastic Barbie doll types like me has long since passed. Unfortunately, with anxiety comes horribly low self esteem -- or maybe the low self esteem comes first. Either way, I find myself constantly dissecting conversations and over analyzing what I said or what I did or what they said and did, or did I say the right thing or did I say something that might make them think something bad about me. It's exhausting and lately I've come to realize that not everyone is going to like me and if they don't, that's okay! The most important thing I've realized lately though, is that by hiding my anxiety from people, I'm allowing it to stay with me and control me. I came along way with my anxiety when I moved to Australia. I think part of that was that I told myself I'd be better once I escaped my problems. (I ran away).  But lately, I've let it creep back in and become a problem again. I'm no longer willing to hide it away so people will like me. I'm nearly 32-years-old and I don't really care if the perfectly groomed school mother's, or the ones constantly bragging about their possessions, or how great their children are, or how much better they are than me at music, want to be my friend or not. So I'm here to tell you, I have Panic Attacks. It's my choice to say it out loud, and what you do with that information is your choice.