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In Spite Of…

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I was diagnosed with anxiety about ten years ago but I have lived with it for all of my adult life and likely some portion of my childhood. I didn’t always have the language to describe it as anxiety, but it has always been around. Anxiety can show up for me as frustration, as anger, as sadness, as disorganization, as hives (oh the discomfort), as procrastination, as social awkwardness, sleeplessness, and a slew of other ‘ness’-es and ‘tion’s. It isn’t always easy to tell when I am anxious because physically I may look and sound the same. I may be able to show up and appear productive and engaged. But on the inside there is a fear gripping me like a vise; my heart feels like it is racing, I feel jittery and some times my head aches, my breaths feel shallow, and my hands shake. Sometimes it triggers feelings of shame and inadequacy, due in no small part to the unhelpful internal narratives I have internalized. Overall, in spite of an external calm, internally there is a great deal of tumult. The thing about anxiety is that for me it is always there in the background. There are days when it lays quietly in the background like a sleepy older dog. But on other days it leaps around with abundant energy and reminds me to worry and be afraid of almost everything and everyone on a never ending loop. On most days, there are some things that help me to manage my anxiety. But to be truthful, they are the things I don’t want to do on bad days. Exercise helps me a lot. A brisk walk. A bike ride or work out all help. Sitting near the water and allowing my breathing to match the rhythm of the water splashing against the shore is also calming for me. Laughing helps. Watching stand up comedians that make me laugh out loud are a good antidote for me. Sunshine. The brightness of the sun and the warmth of it on my skin also helps. Some days I have to take an anti anxiety medication to make it through the day. Everything is harder when I am anxious and it takes a lot of internal work for me to function without leaking on others, especially when I am simultaneously managing the expectations of other people. After many years of not being able to name what I was feeling, a few more trying to ignore it, and a few more locked in a shame spiral because of it, I have come to accept that anxiety is a part of my journey, not the entire journey but certainly an impactful part of it. Truthfully having a name for it and an understanding of how it works was a game changer. Like most things that feel disruptive, I don’t enjoy the debilitating symptoms, but most days I can recognize why they have appeared and use one of the strategies above to manage them. I am at the point where I don’t succumb as much anymore, I feel less shame and I dare to aim for peace in my life. On my journey to serenity, this chocolate girl is naming acceptance and management of anxiety as one of the essential items I carry with me. It is no longer a derailment or detour, though it can be a distraction at times. But I am journeying on to peace in spite of anxiety. I have accomplished many of my goals in spite of my complicated journey with anxiety and I will keep pushing for serenity too. Anxiety may not be your thing, but please continue on to your goal in spite of what ever your thing is. Don’t quit. You are totally worth it. Sidebar – my anxiety about posting this was also a journey I had to make, but here we are.

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Loss

4 Comments / Wellness /

I have not found a way to process loss, yet it arrives unannounced like an unwelcome house guest arriving at an inopportune time.

At times it causes my knees to buckle, my lungs to lose air. At other times I dig deep and power through, trying my best to ignore the piercing that pricks me, and causes my chest to heave, and tears to march out of my eyes.

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Stamina

7 Comments / Wellness /

When you decide to do a thing, it isn’t always natural or easy. Sometimes you have to build stamina. You have to push through your fears and doubts and build the strength to do the thing with ease. That bridge on the left of the photo is ~70 feet high. When I first moved here (here being the south eastern US) two years ago, I was able to walk it with ease. Then about two months after moving I bought a bike. I had not ridden a bike in almost 40 years at the time. So there was no way that I was attempting that bridge. But I always wanted to. Well last week I rode that bridge. It was not easy by any stretch of the imagination. My thighs threatened to give up on me at least twice, but I did it. I was able to do it because I have been riding my bike, building up my confidence (and my thigh muscles), and riding faster, longer and higher every week. Doing this repeatedly and constantly pushing myself built up my stamina. So now, after almost 40 years of not riding a bike I can now ride 13 miles without resting, I can navigate inclines that peak at 70-ish feet, and I can finally take one hand off the handle bars. No I can’t completely let go. The control freak in me won’t let me. But the point is, I can finally do the thing I have been wanting to do for two years. Building my stamina is the formula I have used to navigate almost every goal I have set for myself. And getting to my goal of serenity is no different. I practice being at peace even when everything is not working out the way I want it. I am no saint. There are times when I still get hella frustrated, but I wake up and try again the next day. So far here is what works for me. Routines. I force myself to get sunshine, exercise (at least 5 days/week) and consume at least 6 glasses of water per week day (weekends are made for having fun.) That helps me to manage my anxiety. Perspective taking. When I catch myself being frustrated, I try to see things from the perspective of others. It usually works, but every once in a while I morph into a gremlin and rage privately about someone’s actions. Gratitude. When things aren’t working the way that I want, I give thanks for what is, what I have, and all that I have been able to accomplish thus far. Mental mile markers. I reflect on other times that I have felt similarly and that usually reminds me that I will get to the other side of what ever is bothering me. Laughter. I try to laugh multiple times per day. I watch stand up comedy. I listen to terrible dad jokes. I surround myself with people who make me laugh. I subscribe to comedians on social media. I chase laughter the way some folks chase the ice cream truck. I am determined to live a peaceful life, in spite of whatever life throws at me. So I continue to build my stamina, on my journey to chocolate serenity.

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Bold.

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Yesterday someone referred to me as bold. It brought tears to my eyes because I remember being in my thirties and crying in my therapist’s office because I was no longer bold. It was my goal to become bold again. The thing is I don’t remember taking steps to regain my boldness. Growing into myself was a journey and I don’t remember it being pleasant.

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Reclaiming My Joy

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As a child, words always intrigued me. I loved reading and writing. I grew up in a country where a television in the household was not a staple, and at a time when Disney didn’t produce a new movie every week (insert eyeroll). So words were the foundation for my imagination. Whether I was listening to them on the radio during Sunshine Corner – my favorite radio show growing up, reading them in Nancy Drew or Hardy Boys mysteries, or writing them in my own made up stories, words were my safe space. In spite of being made to read Beowulf and Chaucer in high school (insert second eyeroll), I still enjoyed English so much that I chose it as my college major. And in college, I chose to study Black women writers. I immersed myself in bell hooks, Alice Walker, Gloria Naylor and Audre Lorde to name a few. There, in the midst of their writing, words affirmed me. The cadence of the words on the pages were familiar and validating and my love for words deepened. I wrote more, and me and words enjoyed a long relationship. And then grad school happened. In grad school, words were no longer affirming. They became poly-syllabic and pretentious and instead of being an invitation to another world, words became a hurdle that I was constantly trying to clear. They felt stiff in my mouth, and appeared unpleasant to my eyes. I was forced to read academic writing and worse – I had to produce it. Oh how my fingers and my brain protested at the thought of using a poly-syllabic word when a simple word would do. And if that wasn’t bad enough APA formatting made the experience all the more arduous. There were rules that made no sense to me, fonts I had to use, space recommendations I had to adhere to, and references that must be attached to every one of my thoughts because if someone else had not thought or said it before me it didn’t matter. Words were no longer a safe space. So I relegated myself to my journal. At least in my journal I didn’t have to edit myself. I could write in any color I wanted and ignore every single rule and although it felt confining to limit the words that often came dancing out of my head to my journal, at least I had a space. But one day, someone read my journals without my permission. All of my private thoughts and my precious words were no longer just mine. The betrayal was deep. And try as I might, I could no longer trust the page with my words. So I wrote for work, wrote for degrees, wrote for specific purposes but no longer for pleasure. It was not a great time for me. Without the lilting and melodious words that had been my safe space for so long, I felt like a flat piece of cardboard. I was functional, but I was definitely not the technicolor three dimensional version of myself that I was created to be. The thing is I love writing and reading, I just don’t like academic reading and writing. I don’t want to force my precious words into APA format. I don’t want to validate everything I have to say to someone else’s thought. I want to be free to just be with my words as they pour out of my mouth and fingers. Black women have a history of being confined and restricted, I want to connect back to what gives me peace and joy. I want some Chocolate Serenity. Words are just one part of it, there are so many things I revel in, my blackness, womanhood, sunrises, sunsets, good food, authenticity, healthy relationships and so much more. The chronicle of the journey begins today.

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