Wednesday, May 26, 2021

Anxiety is Real

If you’ve read my blog in the past, you know sometimes I let subjects percolate for a while before I put hands to the keyboard. This one has really spent some time in the percolating department, and I wasn’t even sure if I would write it ... but here we are.

I, unfortunately, know a lot about anxiety. I have it – not every minute and not every day – but it’s a part of me, and this past year has been a challenge keeping it in check. I have had to draw on every self-care strategy I have ever learned, and I’ve managed pretty well, but still, it’s a fact of my life. 

Looking back, I realize I had encounters with it starting in the 70s when I was in college. But back then, it was diagnosed as “colon issues.” No one mentioned anxiety, and I remember once watching a show that I think was Oprah, but it may have been Phil Donahue, where everyone in the audience was an anxiety sufferer. I remember becoming tearful watching it because I could relate to almost everything anyone said. I finally realized I wasn’t crazy. I wasn’t a hypochondriac. I wasn’t hopeless. Although the treatment I got wasn’t great back then, at least I knew what I had was a real thing. 

I also remember my mom calling me, and I told her I was watching this show about panic attacks and anxiety, and she said, “Oh, don’t watch that!” I can smile about it now because she came from a different era, and in her world, talking about it would make it happen so she was trying to protect me. I do remember saying to her, “Mom, I have panic attacks.” Again, that didn’t help me progress to not having them, but I was able to say the words, and that was huge.

So, life went on, and in my twenties, I began to have full-blown panic attacks – heart-pounding, sweat-pouring, hyperventilating panic attacks. If you have never had one, well, lucky for you, because they are horrible. HORRIBLE. Mine were so bad at that time, I could barely leave my house for fear of having another one. Even going to get the mail was scary, and going to the grocery store was out of the question. It sounds crazy, right? It was crazy, but it was my world.

Many of you reading this are probably in two categories. Some of you have no idea how someone could let that happen to them, but I know there are others who get it completely. You’ve been there or maybe are there now, and you know horrible all too well.

Fast forward (through postpartum depressions and other difficult times) to today. There is treatment for anxiety. Not only that, but doctors no longer say, “Just relax. You’ll be fine.” There are still some other people who say that, but I know better than to let that upset me, because they just don’t understand. 

My personal treatment was medication, therapy, and surrounding myself with supportive people. I learned many techniques, such as slow, deep breathing; going for a walk; eating right-ish; avoiding the news; and not talking to myself in a negative way (sounds funny, but one therapist told me I had to replace the tapes I was playing in my head, and that made sense to me – another post for another day). I tried to use all of these techniques, but meds for anxiety weren’t extremely helpful to me. When my doctor and therapist worked together, though, and decided I was also suffering from depression, they agreed I needed to be on anti-depressants, and finally, the serious anxiety went away.

Here are some fun facts for those of you who may not know:

  • Anxiety can be a symptom of depression.
  • Anti-depressants are not happy pills and do not make stressors go away. As a friend once said, anti-depressants help you get back up to ground level, so you have the ability to take on the tough things happening.
  • Anxiety and depression are not invented by the person suffering from them. They are, in many cases, due to a long family history, and many people have a biological predisposition to them. 

Mayo Clinic has a really good website for medical information. When I visit Dr. Google, this is usually my go-to site. I am on anti-depressants called SSRIs, which are selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors. There is science behind the treatment. Mayo Clinic says this:

“SSRIs treat depression by increasing levels of serotonin in the brain. Serotonin is one of the chemical messengers (neurotransmitters) that carry signals between brain nerve cells (neurons).

SSRIs block the reabsorption (reuptake) of serotonin into neurons. This makes more serotonin available to improve transmission of messages between neurons. SSRIs are called selective because they mainly affect serotonin, not other neurotransmitters.

SSRIs may also be used to treat conditions other than depression, such as anxiety disorders.

So, it’s really pretty basic. Serotonin, or lack thereof, is a huge part of depression and anxiety, which means these conditions are often due to a chemical imbalance. That is really important to know, especially for the naysayers. 

Serotonin Matters

And here’s the thing. You can’t just get meds, although they have been a lifesaver for me. You also need to get help to see what things sent you into the spiral so you can deal with them and have a happier life. I went on meds in 1991, and they turned my life around. A doc once asked me if I wanted to try to go off of them at some point. I gave her a big “hell no,” and if asked today, I would say the same thing.

Back to the reason I decided to write this, I’m sharing this part of myself in case someone else may recognize themselves and not know where to turn, or someone knows a person suffering from this and will hopefully be a bit more compassionate. 

Now that I’ve opened the flood gates, I realize I have more to say, but this is enough for now.

If you need help and don’t know where to turn:


  1. Right there with you, girl!! Suffered for years...home bound, couldn’t do hongs with my kids, ALWAYS check where bathroom is if I did go out...& on & on. Thanks for sharing. Important to know you aren’t alone!!

    1. Yep, always checking where the bathroom is ... should have mentioned that one!

  2. And, it’s me, Barb Welk, a/k/a Gigi to my babes.

  3. LOL I figured it was somebody who was a grandma!