oxygen

​​In my mid-thirties, I learned that not everyone worries.

Anxiety isn’t a thing for many people. What?? [insert mind-blown emoji here]

Stress, yes. Chronic anxiety? Not so much.

For some of us who live with internal anxiety (or other struggles like depression) all the time, it’s hard to fathom just going about your day without that voice in there.

Mental health is a term like “technology” to me. It can have a million directions and connotations and meanings and reactions. It sounds so serious and all-encompassing, yet totally generic.

And it often comes across negatively, doesn’t it? If I struggle with anxiety, does that mean I have “mental health issues?” Can I really wear the same label as what people blame school shootings on? “Oh, he had some serious mental health issues.” Um! That’s not me! Too big a label; too complicated for one box. No wonder society veers away from talking about it.

Nevertheless, mental health should be less taboo.

I’m a sucker for soft fluffy words, but I love the phrase emotional wellness. It implies more of a nurturing approach to those ups and downs we experience within. And sometimes, just like when we get a virus or have a medical challenge, we say we don’t feel well. Can’t emotions be the same? Wellness isn’t a given; we must address it sometimes.

The amount of people who responded when I wrote a blog about feeling empty this new year was moving. It made me want to yell from the mountain top that it’s okay to feel off, and it’s okay to seek help. Talking and writing about it is good. Feeling it is good. But it’s also okay -just like we do with physical hurdles – to get more help, back to even ground.

In a delightfully light book by Emily Henry, I stumbled across a surprisingly deep quote/analogy. A character describing his realization that he has anxiety and depression says, “In high school, I had this friend on the soccer team. And one day, after a game, he collapsed. His chest hurt and he couldn’t get his shirt off but he wanted to because he couldn’t breathe and we all thought he was having a heart attack. Turned out, it was asthma. He spent like seventeen years operating on fifty-five percent lung capacity without realizing breathing just wasn’t supposed to be that hard.”

This is what I felt like when I realized not everyone operates with constant anxiety. “Breathing just wasn’t supposed to be that hard.”

Some of us are operating on fifty-five percent lung capacity.

Even more challenging, so much about the world is heavy right now. Confusing. Overwhelming. Violent. Scary. Hurtful. Jarring. Difficult to fathom. Kind of a ripe time for emotional wellness to feel like it’s unraveling. I think we need to lift each other up if we are to not only survive, but persevere.

So. I’ve been pondering since January re: my experience of learning how to breathe. Finding my “inhalers,” if you will. Oxygen for the soul.

First: counseling. We should all go to some form of therapy. It’s the best.

My counselor totally changed my outlook on emotions. 

I used to think because stress and fear and worry felt inherently bad, that I needed those emotions to go away. Run them out, write them out, adventure them out, meditate them out, talk them out, etc. The goal was to be rid of my fears and worries.

My counselor told me to welcome them with compassion, because they are a part of me. Welcoming these feelings was a totally foreign concept. Had never crossed my mind. She asked me to envision these emotions. Not necessarily cartoons like Inside Out, but some version of me and how I felt within that emotion. Take a moment, and think. Get quiet and listen. Who are some of your loudest emotions? What do they look like to you?

I have positive emotions within me … Joy and Hope and Compassion, etc….. But…For me, Fear and Responsibility often get So Damn Loud. (ie anxiety). Fear knows I have seen the worst case happen many times, and we can go down a scary rabbit hole in record speed. Responsibility thinks I can and need to fix everything, with a little clipboard at her side of worries we can solve and all the “shoulds” I should be shoulding. She wants to be in control.

What changed for me was instead of kicking these emotions out of my head and heart, I’ve found a way to go inward and acknowledge them. Yes, the world is so scary right now. Yes, you’ve felt the unimaginable pain of loss; of course you don’t want that again. Instead of trying to dismiss them or argue with their logic, I listen. So you feel like a lot is on your plate right now? You don’t want to let others down. I get it; you care.  

Have you ever sat with a kid who was throwing a tantrum or was just in a *mood,* and just let them say it all, however irrational. What’s making them mad, what feels unfair, no matter how trivial or big? And without giving a solution, you just hold them, hug them, or sit with them until they are functional again? Just so they know, “We’ve got this, together.”

That’s how it is with emotions. You just sit with them. Acknowledge that they are real.

It’s self-talk and self-compassion.

For me anyway, this is what quiets my anxiety, and lets me re-center. I feel in control again, but not in a rigid way. “We’ve got this, together.”

Shoving away worries did not work for me. Letting worries take the wheel does not work for me. But acknowledging them? Yes. Sitting with them until my true, hopeful, grounded-in-good Self is at the wheel. Yes. I know who I am, and all of those emotions are a part of me. But it is from a place of faith in myself and honesty and calm that I need to operate.

For real though- it’s work. I have to practice what makes my inner self feel strong and resilient and nurture that. I have to forgive myself when I forget. I have to take time to care about my own emotional wellness and listen to myself.

Sometimes that’s enough. 

And sometimes it’s not. Sometimes we know all the things and we do all the healthy work to cope and we try our darndest but we still feel numb or our shoulders are still by our ears. The times I’ve struggled the most is when the treading-water feeling never stops. I was doing so much internal work to “be okay” that I actually totally drained and exhausted myself just trying to keep up with that big ole mental health. It left me with no energy to do normal life…all the things felt Huge.

I wish our world would stop shaming medicine. Can it be abused? Yes. But it can also truly make a difference. Studies have shown that our society and culture now moves at an incredibly fast and stressful pace. Because this has increased SO much in recent years, our brains have not yet evolved (because that’s kind of a loooong process) to produce enough serotonin and dopamine to “keep up.” Aka feel emotionally well. 

No wonder anxiety and depression are a thing. 

If someone is feeling shame or embarrassment over anxiety or depression meds, I’m here to say check that dang shame at the door. It is okay to get your physiological chemistry back to normal so you can feel like yourself again. Think of it this way…. I had to take medicine (via a lovely shot) daily for Bryce’s pregnancy because my body sucked at producing uterine needs correctly. No one was like “Oh, um, you should really figure out a way to do that on your own. Just be strong and you’ll get there.” My body needed help. I gave it help. (And the world got Bryce!)

If you need help, get help.

There is no shame.

Finally. In the course of writing this, outside has gone from a cheerful, hopeful sunny to a forlorn spring-smelling drizzle reminding me that – much to my vexation – we can’t control external forces, whether it be weather or current events. We have to channel the ability to focus on our internal forces – that is the fuel we can rely on. What makes you feel whole? What makes you feel connected to your inner self?

I repeat these things to myself regularly. Refueling means nature (For Sheaff, it does not, ha! We are all different!). It means reading books that bring me into another world. It means using my voice when I can locally. It means doing work I enjoy, usually with little ones. It means Chutes and Ladders with our kids, basketball in the driveway, yoga and stretching, moving my body, sitting on the screen porch, drinking tea out of a pretty mug, watching comfort shows, dates with my husband, and trying-often failing- to keep plants alive. It means walking with my parents on Blackwater and gathering with people our family loves. For me, it means tapping into the things that ground me or bring me joy and hope.

We’ve all got them.

Find your inhalers. We don’t have to breathe at 55% capacity.

Feed your soul. Seek your oxygen. 

In the voice of Julie Andrews – Dear Readers …. I hope you find ways to be kind to yourself. To acknowledge the emotions within. To nourish yourself. To breathe.

You are not alone, friends.

We’ve got this, together.