I Can’t Function: Generalized Anxiety Edition

It’s hard, sometimes, to get healthy people to understand the correlation between anxiety and complete and total debilitation.

The makings of a panic attack meld to create what, at first glance from the outside looking in, can appear to be a pretty dramatic showing. Tears, anger, sadness, irritability, and a plethora of other plights that are hard to placate. It’s hard for some to understand what’s going on inside.

I’m here to tell you.

The physical symptoms are atrocious, and it always starts in my stomach. The pain from incessant cramping makes me physically ill maybe 40% of the time, current day. I’ve learned to take control of that other 60%, otherwise I’d be sick a good six days out of every week. Due to serial isolation not many loved ones have seen me physically sick from anxiety, therefore it comes off as a sort of fiction or excuse not to participate. Unfortunately, that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Next comes the buzzing. The full body buzz of panic makes it hard to focus on much of anything but the buzzing itself. It is never-ending and demanding… It is never satisfied, even with rest and attention, and I can try my hardest to find that peace but my nervous system never gets the clue, even once I’ve found the treasure. The conditions could be perfect- panic and anxiety do not care.

The ceaseless buzzing is eventually joined by brain and body “zaps” that make it hard to lie still. They’re strong and strange and scare me into thinking I just might start seizing and while logic tells me it’s not that, who is logic to anxiety? Commonfolk. My limbs kick and twitch of their own accord, and it’s noticeable. My eyelids twitch, my body is stiff with the effort of staying still, and the fear and fatigue on my face is usually on full display. My senses are fully heightened and it is at this point I go into sensory overload.

As aforementioned, I don’t usually get as sick as I used to during episodes of panic but that doesn’t mean nausea doesn’t rule a decent part of my day to day life. When I have to go out, depending on the circumstances, I can’t eat until I return home otherwise I will lose it. The symptoms of nausea are usually prevalent but the worst is the forever-watering-mouth. That feeling you get before you’re about to be sick? When I’m panicked, that doesn’t go away. How many times can I swallow a day before the act starts to feel unnaturally disgusting?

Beyond the physical, if I find myself in deep enough, the doom starts to present itself. My thoughts begin to spiral and if the buzzing and zapping would stop, I’d feel fully hollow and out of body. Nothing is worse than realizing that maybe, just maybe the pain would stop if your life did too. Nothing hurts more than realizing nobody can really save you from that feeling but yourself.

Then, God willing, it all stops for a while. I become weak and tired, so, so tired. My feet can’t find the floor, and I’m sure I have to have bed sores for how long I’ve been face up under my comforter. Now I’m hollow. I could care less about anything but assuring that I stay in this moment, where the panic is on sabbatical. I’ll sleep for as long as I can, just to give myself a layer of extra security. This depression lasts almost always until the next bout of panic.

And I have been (heavily) medicated for years.

But by all means, count me in, Monday morning from 9-5.

My name is Pariah, and I have generalized anxiety disorder. My body, specifically my nervous system, never gets a break. I’m virtually forever tired. All of the aforementioned symptoms have attacked me at least once a day, every day out of every. single. week. since 2015. It’s been impossible to hold down jobs, relationships, and most responsibilities. Socialization has become a task. Finding community has been a chore, but I’ve found it.

I am telling the raw details in hopes that this encourages someone else who is struggling to come forth and seek community. The more that seek, the easier it is to find, but it starts with honesty and forthrightness about illness. Encourage your loved ones to be honest about their struggles. Lend a listening ear. As an ally, train yourself to be a support system for your loved ones. Research can start somewhere as simple as Google!

I am also telling the raw details to bring forth awareness and empathy for mental illness. There is absolutely nothing wrong or selfish about sharing your struggle. Industrial society breeds the pressure of capitalism, and my body and brain were not meant to handle it. Simple. A lot of people are drowning the same way… a lot of people are hurting. The only way to fix it is to speak up. Never be afraid to tell your story because for all you know, it may provoke revolutionary change.