3 AM Panic Attacks = Writing Motivation!
"What in the world am I doing?"
That was all I could think this last Wednesday morning. Here it was: 3 AM, and I was driving to the gym. I'm going to try to give you a valid reason why this is what I chose to do at 3 AM, but chances are, it won't make sense anyway. I tried explaining my reasoning to my dad the next day, and he (understandably) just shook his head. Trust me when I tell all of you that it makes even less sense to me. But I'm going to try and see if writing it out helps either of us with the clarity.
In the last year or so, i've gotten pretty good at keeping a normalized sleep schedule. Most nights I can sleep from 11:30 - 7:30, give or take half an hour on either end. I tell you this because Tuesday night wasn't any different. I was in bed at 11 PM and fell asleep sometime after that..
A few hours later (somewhere around 1:30 AM), I woke up in a PANIC... Literally. I had one of the worst anxiety attacks i've had in a while. It felt like I had to use all of my half-asleep focus just to remember how to breathe. I just laid in bed staring at the wall for over an hour, not wanting to get up because (in my head) then I wouldn't be able to fall back asleep, but I also knew I couldn't just lay there because I wouldn't fall back asleep that way either. I was paralyzed just trying to make this tiny choice. The dumbest self-induced catch-22 of all time.
Eventually, I was able to compose myself enough to realize that none of this really mattered. I was still terrified to try and go back to sleep, but it was 3 IN THE MORNING. Not a ton of options at 3 AM. In a weird, spontaneous moment of decision making I decided to just go to the gym. I go to the gym to clear my head at 3 PM, why should 3 AM be any different right? So I go, knock out 45 minutes on the bike (because if you can sit down while you work out, why wouldn't you? Laziness never truly goes away.), shower and go home. It's 4 AM now and I have two major thoughts. First is that I have to be up for work in 3 hours, which sucks, but at the very least I was thinking about stuff that actually mattered again. My other thought was that I really wanted to write about what happened, because it was super out of the ordinary, even for me.
"Just write it out dummy!"
Every time I start writing something new here, I always regret how long it's taken me to get around to it. It's been almost 10 months since I last posted on this site, when I started talking about being diagnosed with anxiety and depression. One of the reasons I struggle to write here more often, is that I have a really hard time putting how I feel, and how this anxiety makes me feel into words... and that drives me CRAZY. That's why I had to (somewhat) hurry when I felt the urge to write about my 3 AM adventure. I needed that motivation to get this written and posted
If given enough time and detail, I feel like I can (and should be able to) explain anything in a clear and concise way through writing, but I can't explain what's going on in my own head? That's pretty frustrating. Instead of pushing through that, I would normally type a few paragraphs up, realize that it's complete nonsense and delete it and move on to more productive things. I am doing my best to push through those feelings here, regardless of how this piece turns out.
On that note, I wish I could say I had made tons of progress and that I was mentally healthier than ever before, but that's really only half true. As you might gather from my 3 AM adventure, I don't always have control over my anxiety (which remains much worse than my depression, for what it's worth.) and it can wreck small parts of my life every now and then. Where I am slowly getting better is recognizing what my "triggers" are, and managing those to limit the anxiety I feel.
I still have my issues - I still try to discount/discredit my own thoughts and feelings (this is another one of those things I have trouble explaining in words.). I don't want to say that I'm ashamed of the mental health problems I deal with, but I am a little embarrassed at times and I try to pretend like it's not as big of a deal as it is. There is a line somewhere between pushing yourself out of your comfort zone, and exposing yourself to unnecessary anxious situations because you're too proud to admit that it might be too hard for you. I've been trying to walk that line for the last year and I'm still no good at it.
I was reading an article recently from an interview with comedian/director Bo Burnham, about his recent movie Eighth Grade and how anxiety has been a part of his life. You can read the whole article here if you want (I relate to almost everything he says in there), but I really connected with this quote describing anxiety:
This.... yeah. I'm guilty. I am absolutely, as he said it, closed off and singular by nature. Every day I feel like the people around me have such a handle on themselves, and it takes a lot of effort for me to just to make it seem like I'm in control. This whole quote is basically what inspired me to write this and to actually post it.
The end especially, where he says "actually wanting to be alone in this experience of anxiety, because it means you're special." hit me pretty hard. It's not necessarily something I want other people to think I'm special for, and I don't think most people in my life even think about it. I try to avoid talking about it or bringing it up because I don't want to seem like I'm making excuses.. For myself though - sometimes I like to think having anxiety makes me special, because the anxiety itself makes me think I'm not special at anything. Does that make sense? It doesn't seem like it makes sense, but that's how blended up my head gets.
"I'm working on it, I promise."
In the last year, I've tried a few different things to get as close to "normal" as I can get. I tried just general counseling once or twice a month, with meditation and other self-help ideas (the have someone walk you through it way). I tried medication, to normalize the chemical imbalance in my brain (the scientific way) and stopped a couple months ago. I've tried getting my physical health improved, hoping that my mental health would follow (the do it yourself way)... The answer is probably some mix of all of them. Or maybe even an option I haven't tried yet. None of them are perfect, and none of them have been a permanent solution. I don't think I'll ever find a permanent solution, but that's sort of the hand I've been dealt.
There are still quite a few days where it's worse than it should be. I'm sure there are days where Brayden (brother, roommate, eternal pain in my butt) will come home and see me just moping around and is sick of it. I'm working on it Braydo. There are times at family gatherings where I will just disappear, because I need a minute (or 30) to decompress and calm myself down. I'm still dealing with it, but I need everyone to know that it isn't personal, I promise.
Right now I've just settled into a bit of a groove, and seeing where things go. I work with my dad, I workout to clear my head, and watch a lot of basketball. Since I'm not very good at sharing personal news, I've also been brought on to help contribute to a small Utah Jazz website called the J-Notes (thejnotes.com). When 2019 began, one of my goals was to write more frequently, and helping out with that site, and *crosses fingers* writing here more often will make that easier than I imagined.
I hope this doesn't come across as looking for sympathy or pity, because that's not what it's about (and it's not really what I'm about in general.) This is more of a "self-vent" rant than anything. I needed to get over myself and just write what I've been thinking for the last 6 months.
Anyways, thanks for reading this word vomit. If anyone ever needs someone to talk to, I'm much better at listening than I am at expressing how I feel. I'm here, just reach out.
*Also don't forget that LeBron James is the greatest basketball player of all time and you can't convince me otherwise*
*Also also, please enjoy the below picture of me being proud of my great jokes and Brayden and Parker judging me*
That was all I could think this last Wednesday morning. Here it was: 3 AM, and I was driving to the gym. I'm going to try to give you a valid reason why this is what I chose to do at 3 AM, but chances are, it won't make sense anyway. I tried explaining my reasoning to my dad the next day, and he (understandably) just shook his head. Trust me when I tell all of you that it makes even less sense to me. But I'm going to try and see if writing it out helps either of us with the clarity.
In the last year or so, i've gotten pretty good at keeping a normalized sleep schedule. Most nights I can sleep from 11:30 - 7:30, give or take half an hour on either end. I tell you this because Tuesday night wasn't any different. I was in bed at 11 PM and fell asleep sometime after that..
A few hours later (somewhere around 1:30 AM), I woke up in a PANIC... Literally. I had one of the worst anxiety attacks i've had in a while. It felt like I had to use all of my half-asleep focus just to remember how to breathe. I just laid in bed staring at the wall for over an hour, not wanting to get up because (in my head) then I wouldn't be able to fall back asleep, but I also knew I couldn't just lay there because I wouldn't fall back asleep that way either. I was paralyzed just trying to make this tiny choice. The dumbest self-induced catch-22 of all time.
Eventually, I was able to compose myself enough to realize that none of this really mattered. I was still terrified to try and go back to sleep, but it was 3 IN THE MORNING. Not a ton of options at 3 AM. In a weird, spontaneous moment of decision making I decided to just go to the gym. I go to the gym to clear my head at 3 PM, why should 3 AM be any different right? So I go, knock out 45 minutes on the bike (because if you can sit down while you work out, why wouldn't you? Laziness never truly goes away.), shower and go home. It's 4 AM now and I have two major thoughts. First is that I have to be up for work in 3 hours, which sucks, but at the very least I was thinking about stuff that actually mattered again. My other thought was that I really wanted to write about what happened, because it was super out of the ordinary, even for me.
"Just write it out dummy!"
Every time I start writing something new here, I always regret how long it's taken me to get around to it. It's been almost 10 months since I last posted on this site, when I started talking about being diagnosed with anxiety and depression. One of the reasons I struggle to write here more often, is that I have a really hard time putting how I feel, and how this anxiety makes me feel into words... and that drives me CRAZY. That's why I had to (somewhat) hurry when I felt the urge to write about my 3 AM adventure. I needed that motivation to get this written and posted
If given enough time and detail, I feel like I can (and should be able to) explain anything in a clear and concise way through writing, but I can't explain what's going on in my own head? That's pretty frustrating. Instead of pushing through that, I would normally type a few paragraphs up, realize that it's complete nonsense and delete it and move on to more productive things. I am doing my best to push through those feelings here, regardless of how this piece turns out.
On that note, I wish I could say I had made tons of progress and that I was mentally healthier than ever before, but that's really only half true. As you might gather from my 3 AM adventure, I don't always have control over my anxiety (which remains much worse than my depression, for what it's worth.) and it can wreck small parts of my life every now and then. Where I am slowly getting better is recognizing what my "triggers" are, and managing those to limit the anxiety I feel.
I still have my issues - I still try to discount/discredit my own thoughts and feelings (this is another one of those things I have trouble explaining in words.). I don't want to say that I'm ashamed of the mental health problems I deal with, but I am a little embarrassed at times and I try to pretend like it's not as big of a deal as it is. There is a line somewhere between pushing yourself out of your comfort zone, and exposing yourself to unnecessary anxious situations because you're too proud to admit that it might be too hard for you. I've been trying to walk that line for the last year and I'm still no good at it.
I was reading an article recently from an interview with comedian/director Bo Burnham, about his recent movie Eighth Grade and how anxiety has been a part of his life. You can read the whole article here if you want (I relate to almost everything he says in there), but I really connected with this quote describing anxiety:
"The problem with anxiety, and I think it can bleed into other mental problems as well, it disproportionately tends to select people that want to be a little closed off and singular. And the feeling of anxiety itself, I describe it as, it’s like riding a bull, and the bull is your nervous system. And you’re just trying to hold on, and being in the world is so hard because everyone else is an equestrian to you, and you’re the only one who has to struggle with this thing.
And that just isn’t true. I think the part some anxious people, myself included, don’t want to admit is that you don’t actually want to believe that your experience is shared. You actually want to be alone in this experience of anxiety, because it means you’re special. But you have to let that go. "
This.... yeah. I'm guilty. I am absolutely, as he said it, closed off and singular by nature. Every day I feel like the people around me have such a handle on themselves, and it takes a lot of effort for me to just to make it seem like I'm in control. This whole quote is basically what inspired me to write this and to actually post it.
The end especially, where he says "actually wanting to be alone in this experience of anxiety, because it means you're special." hit me pretty hard. It's not necessarily something I want other people to think I'm special for, and I don't think most people in my life even think about it. I try to avoid talking about it or bringing it up because I don't want to seem like I'm making excuses.. For myself though - sometimes I like to think having anxiety makes me special, because the anxiety itself makes me think I'm not special at anything. Does that make sense? It doesn't seem like it makes sense, but that's how blended up my head gets.
"I'm working on it, I promise."
In the last year, I've tried a few different things to get as close to "normal" as I can get. I tried just general counseling once or twice a month, with meditation and other self-help ideas (the have someone walk you through it way). I tried medication, to normalize the chemical imbalance in my brain (the scientific way) and stopped a couple months ago. I've tried getting my physical health improved, hoping that my mental health would follow (the do it yourself way)... The answer is probably some mix of all of them. Or maybe even an option I haven't tried yet. None of them are perfect, and none of them have been a permanent solution. I don't think I'll ever find a permanent solution, but that's sort of the hand I've been dealt.
There are still quite a few days where it's worse than it should be. I'm sure there are days where Brayden (brother, roommate, eternal pain in my butt) will come home and see me just moping around and is sick of it. I'm working on it Braydo. There are times at family gatherings where I will just disappear, because I need a minute (or 30) to decompress and calm myself down. I'm still dealing with it, but I need everyone to know that it isn't personal, I promise.
Right now I've just settled into a bit of a groove, and seeing where things go. I work with my dad, I workout to clear my head, and watch a lot of basketball. Since I'm not very good at sharing personal news, I've also been brought on to help contribute to a small Utah Jazz website called the J-Notes (thejnotes.com). When 2019 began, one of my goals was to write more frequently, and helping out with that site, and *crosses fingers* writing here more often will make that easier than I imagined.
I hope this doesn't come across as looking for sympathy or pity, because that's not what it's about (and it's not really what I'm about in general.) This is more of a "self-vent" rant than anything. I needed to get over myself and just write what I've been thinking for the last 6 months.
Anyways, thanks for reading this word vomit. If anyone ever needs someone to talk to, I'm much better at listening than I am at expressing how I feel. I'm here, just reach out.
*Also don't forget that LeBron James is the greatest basketball player of all time and you can't convince me otherwise*
*Also also, please enjoy the below picture of me being proud of my great jokes and Brayden and Parker judging me*
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