If I had to best describe what it’s like living with anxiety, I would say it’s like living with an unpredictable roommate that you didn’t get to choose. They showed up one day, seemingly out of nowhere and have been a burden ever since. They never give you notice about when they’re coming and going, they know exactly what to do and say to get under your skin, they bring out the worst in you and strain your relationships with friends, family, and loved ones. None of your friends really want to hang out with your new roommate, and if we’re being honest, your roommate doesn’t want to socialize much either. Your roommate doesn’t want you to do things without them, yet all they want to do is lay around and talk about everything that’s going or could go wrong. Your spouse doesn’t always understand why you got a new roommate to begin with, but because they love you, they try and tolerate them the best they can. Your family was used to having so many years with you to themselves, and now your roommate tags along to family functions and their unpredictable behavior usually puts you on edge.
The thing is, unless you’re the one living with this roommate, you kind of get a choice whether you want to be around them or not. For some people they might find that having a roommate is a deal breaker when it comes to relationships. For some, they may be able to control their roommate and lock them into their room when they can sense confrontation. For some, the roommate may not really be that bad, but they just tend to keep the music on a little too loud at night when you’re trying to fall asleep. Everybody’s relationship with their roommate is different, so there’s not a user manual for some universal shitty roommate remote.
I think by now I’ve exhausted my analogy and you get the point, but unless you live with a “roommate” yourself, I know that it can be hard to understand someone with anxiety. Hell, I live with a “roommate” and I still can’t understand it! I just wish more than anything that I could write a permanent eviction notice or at the very least put a sign on my door with a disclaimer that I had absolutely NO SAY in choosing my roommate before anyone was allowed to walk through.
Today, I’m having a hard day. I have a heaviness in my chest that I can’t get rid of and I feel like I’m on the verge of breaking down at any moment, though I can’t pinpoint why. My head and heart are full of worry about everything and nothing all at the same time. When I feel like I do right now, I hate my body or my brain for “failing” me, and the lack of control results in a seemingly never ending cycle where I get anxiety over not being able to control my anxiety. It’s like I’m just going around and around in a revolving door that’s moving so quickly that I can’t find the opening to jump out. It’s suffocating and scary but I keep on going because I know once I finally do, that fresh deep breath of air will bring an equally overwhelming calmness.
The other thing that I want to tell you about me is that I’m an empath and a HSP (highly sensitive person). I always say empathy is probably both my best and worst quality. I have spent a good portion of my life going above and beyond for people I care about. I’m not saying this to “toot my own horn” (or whatever the phrase is), because being there for others and the feeling of being “let in” by someone fills my cup and gives me purpose. On that same note, when I’m not someone’s “cup of tea” (where do all these sayings come from anyways?) it hurts because I’m sensitive and I care (probably too much) what others think about me. It has taken me a really long time to realize that being a sensitive, empathetic, “giver” comes with faults of its own. That’s a topic for another day, but I’m prefacing with this fact about me because when my lovely roommate “anxiety” came into my life, things changed.
You’ve probably heard people say “I don’t feel like myself” and that’s basically how I have lived life feeling for the past 6+ years. I know that I’m still myself. I know that I still care more deeply about others than I can explain. I know that if you’re hurting, I’ll be hurting too. I know that if you’re happy, I will be happy too. I know that I still take things personally and care (probably too much) what others think of me. In my heart I know that I want to be included, I want to be there for you, I want to give 100% to those around me… but for some reason I can’t anymore. While all of those things are still part of my heart, it’s like a constant battle now between my heart and my brain. My brain second guesses everything and gives me self doubt. My brain assumes the worst and assumes that everyone only sees my “roommate” tagging along wherever I go and turns the other way to avoid me. My brain and my heart are fighting for attention and for the first time in my life, I had to learn to be truly empathetic to myself and my needs and that’s not what I’m used to so it makes me uncomfortable.
I have children now who have to be my top priority, so when my roommate sucks all of the energy out of me and I just want to lock myself in my room and hide, I have to put myself first for my babies. I ignore my roommate so that I can be there for my kids and honestly sometimes doing that takes all of the energy I have in me and everyone else ends up being or feeling neglected. I hate it. I hate what it does to my brain, I hate that I can’t just control it and follow my heart all the time, I hate how it’s affected my social life, my friendships, my parenting, my marriage, my self esteem and self image. My roommate pulls out the list of all my insecurities along with their endless lease contract and constantly dangles them in front of my face.
We all choose to handle our roommates differently. At first, I simply ignored my roommate’s existence and failed to acknowledge their presence. Unfortunately, that didn’t make them go away. In my case, it took an amazing friend who was willing to sit me down and say “listen, you’ve got a squatter upstairs and they’re becoming a problem and you need to put them in check”. She helped me identify that my roommate snuck in at the same time I brought my first born home from the hospital and suggested that I talk to someone.
Postpartum got the best of me without me even realizing it. I had always heard PPD being connected to dangerous thoughts, not bonding with your baby, etc. and I certainly didn’t feel that or depressed because my life had more meaning and more happiness than ever before. I discovered that postpartum depression and anxiety are so much more complex and that this roommate had in fact been living with me for an entire year and I didn’t realize it until my friend pointed it out! I talked to a doctor and in my case we agreed that the answer, at least for now, was likely medication.
A year after having my first child, I went on medication. Medication helped me some, but when I got pregnant with my second, I didn’t want to be on it during my pregnancy. I came off of it on my own and my Godsend of a husband and my truest friends and family dealt with my roommate in all their glory for 9 months because they were willing to love me through it.
I had an immediate follow-up with my doctor postpartum to evaluate my mental health and we agreed that the benefits of medication outweighed the risks in my case and I was put on a breast feeding safe medication. Again, this did help some but due to me nursing for a year, the options for medications were more limited. As of last week even (3+ years later), I’m still working with my doctor to figure out the best medications and dosages for my needs. If I’m being honest, medication in itself creates another revolving door of emotions & anxiety because I don’t want to feel like my body relies on medication. One medication made me so numb to feeling that I wouldn’t even cry if someone passed away. To put this into better context, pre-medication Mandy would ugly cry when someone said “yes to the dress” on TV. Another medication made me feel better mentally, but I physically could have stayed in bed until 2pm if you let me without any desire to do anything productive. Every roommate’s different, every body’s different, every brain is different and there’s not a one size fits all cure for anxiety. Time, trial & error, and love and support are what get me through and I know eventually whether via medication, counseling, or divine intervention, I’ll be able to tell my roommate to F off for good.
If you’re someone who knows me personally, I hope that this gives you a better look into my head & what you may or may not have observed for the past 6 years. I honestly haven’t been very open about my struggles because I really desire to always be a positive light for others, but today it just felt right to finally put it all out there. The good, the bad, and the real as hell.
For those who have stuck by my side and loved me so unconditionally during my mental health battle, whether you realized you were doing it or not, I cannot begin to tell you what it means to me. I am more aware than you that I haven’t always been myself and I am working every day to get back to that person. I am overwhelmingly grateful to those who have returned the friendship and have been there to fill my cup for me when I needed it the most, even when I haven’t been able to fill yours. I’m sorry if I have ever let you down and not always been the friend you needed at times, but I’m so thankful for your grace, patience, and acceptance of me regardless. Extra special shout out to my beyond patient husband and my parents for getting me through my lowest lows and learning to understand that you won’t always understand and letting that be okay.
If you’re someone who is battling an unwanted “roommate”, I hope you know that you’re not alone in your mental health journey. If you know someone who “doesn’t seem like themselves lately”, I encourage you to go out of your comfort zone and sit them down and gently address it. You could save someone’s life both literally or figuratively, and sometimes it actually does take someone pointing out your roommate for you to realize they’re a problem! (Thanks Whit <3)
