Reset
My mentor at the time asked me if I wanted to go to New York City for a job opportunity. At the time I thought it would be a good move to explore a new career — 27 years old, moving to one of the greatest cities in the world. I’d been struggling with depression the past few years, but I had made a lot of progress and was more proactive in taking care of my mental health. I was tired of being tired all the time and was determined to take control of my own life and try different things to get to a better place mentally. I thought moving to another state and starting fresh would give me the reset that I needed.
Panic
Turns out, my decision to move to NYC was actually years in the making. I just didn’t know it at the time. A few years before this I had my first panic attack. I had been struggling with depression, but had not dealt with anxiety up until that point. Initially I just brushed it off, hoping it was a one time thing. Maybe I just had a really bad day. But then it happened again. And again. And then it got worse.
I struggled with nervousness as a kid, but this was the first time I had trouble physically breathing. At first, it was just heavy, labored breathing. If I stopped what I was doing and took in some deep breaths, I was usually fine. However, it eventually got to a point where I would be lying on the ground, shaking. Just trying to grasp at air and wishing it would be over soon.
Move
It scared me, so I started reading up on healthy self-care habits.
I invested more time in my hobbies. Bought myself a new acoustic and electric guitar. I would play these for maybe a week and then go for a month without playing them again. I started going to the gym more often. Got into a good rhythm, before eventually falling off and not having the energy to get in solid workouts. I was unhappy at work, so I thought maybe a different environment would jumpstart me again. I bounced around 5 different jobs within a span of about 2.5 years. I even spent 6 months unemployed just to take a break from everything.
I found that these things would help initially, which gave me hope. But false hope is the worst kind isn’t it? The anxiety always came back.
I thought maybe I’m just not making a big enough change. Maybe all these self-care things I’m trying are just bandaids. I felt compelled to make a drastic change. So that’s when I packed my bags and moved across the country to a city I had virtually no connections in.
Well…that didn’t even last a year before the anxiety started bubbling up again.
Fight
Now I’m frustrated. All these things that people and blogs and videos and books tell you to do for “self-care”, why is none of that fixing this? What do I do now? I can’t keep moving or changing jobs. What options do I have left? I’ve resisted taking medication up until now, but I was desperate. I got on meds for a few months, but those didn’t work for me either.
I spent so much energy trying to fight my anxiety that I was literally just existing and dragging myself through life. My friendships and relationships suffered, and I slacked off at work. I had no energy to put anywhere else except to just try and make it to the next day to do it all over again. It was like this, rinse and repeat, for the better part of a year.
Flight
I was convinced to give counseling another try.
She told me to do something I’ve never done before. She told me to hold out my hand in front of me, picture my anxiety as a mini version of myself in my hand, and then give it a name. Honestly can’t remember what I named it for the life of me, so let’s just call him “Jeff”.
She said, “Have you tried listening to what Jeff has to say? What is he trying to tell you?”
“That I’m not happy? But I already knew that!” In my head I’m thinking, “I’m paying you to tell me to tell myself that I’m not happy?” I didn’t understand what she meant at first, but she was insistent in getting me to ask Jeff what he wanted. It took me a little while, maybe another session or two.
“He’s telling me he feels neglected. He feels like he’s not being listened to. Honestly he says he just wants a hug right now.”
So now I’m confused. I’m supposed to hug this little shit that’s been tormenting me all these years and giving me panic attacks? Whatever, so I gave Jeff a little imaginary hug.
Damn.
I don’t think I said a single word for the next few minutes. Just sat there in silence and shock trying to process the gravity of what just happened.
For years, I spent so much time and energy trying to push away Jeff, when all he wanted to do was tell me that I had been neglecting to take care of myself. He was just trying to help me.
I wasn’t fighting my anxiety, I was running away from it.
I realized my anxiety would appear whenever I neglected my own personal needs. Whether that was with relationships, friendships, family, or work, my anxiety would surface when I (subconsciously) put aside my own needs trying to make someone else happy. It was trying to tell me that I was veering away from my true, authentic self.
Apologize
I cried. I cried then, and I cried after the counseling session.
All those things I tried to do in the past to fight my anxiety were just progressively complex distractions. What I should have done was let my walls down and just listen to what I really needed.
Self-care can and should be “selfish”. There is nothing wrong with putting yourself first. Before I could care for others, I needed to forgive and apologize to myself first. I needed to understand that.
I finally embraced my anxiety. I listened to it. I said, “It’s ok to come sit next to me for a bit.”
My relationship with my anxiety has changed drastically since then. It no longer controls or paralyzes me. It no longer dictates how my day goes. It tells me when I need to address something and not let it fester. It tells me when I’m trying to be someone I’m not or if I need to recenter myself and my values. It tells me when I’m not being my true, authentic self.
I don’t see Jeff as much these days, but when he does show up, I smile and give him a big hug now. He’s still a little shit though.
Thanks for listening,
-N.Vu
