Tag: anxiety

Looking for “normal” in a “weird time of life”

I’ve been wanting to write a confessional tell-all for a while now, ever since I became more mindful of myself and my journey. Unfortunately, I’ve also wanted to write about a million other topics, and for some reason (hmmm) it hasn’t been easy.

For starters, I am not writing this on my own laptop. Hell, I’m not even sitting in my own house. Well, for the time being, I don’t have a house of my own. I do, but it’s in Colombia, across the Caribbean Sea, which might as well be the other side of the world. But relatively speaking, I haven’t returned thanks to the Coronavirus, a global pandemic, but also because this has been an important time for me to spend with my family.

To recap, I came home in June of this most “blessed” year – 2020. I made this decision in spite of the risks to my own health and even the health of my family for a somber reason: my grandpa – my pawpaw – was dying. He had been given 6 months maximum to live back in March, just as the virus was being recognized internationally, and nobody believed he would make it until December. His C0PD had crippled him. For several years, he struggled with the aftershocks of years of hard labor, asthma, smoking, and alcoholism. He did not have an easy life, and I knew that if I waited until the pandemic passed to be with him, it would be too late.

So even though I was relatively comfortable in Colombia, if fairly isolated, I chose to leave after getting the greenlight from my school’s principal. Before coming home, ever day seemed the same. I was trapped in that quarantine loop of endless “What day is it?” and a routine of pacing around my apartment, cooking, watching shows, repeat, with a weekly outing for shopping. That became my new “normal.”

Then I came home. And once again, the illusion of normalcy shifted in another direction. I watched my pawpaw die, held his hand as he took his last breath – after a full week of being there to support him while he suffered and refused to eat, unable to speak after some time, expressing repeatedly that he was ready to go. I was grateful to be able to be there for my grandma, to cry with her and comfort her as the presence of her husband of 45 years faded from the house they had built together. Family gathered to be near to him, friends came to say their goodbyes, until finally his last will – to be allowed to die peacefully rather than being kept alive on life support – was fulfilled.

More than my own sorrow and anxiety at being home for the longest time in years, this was my grandma’s journey through grief. We were all ready for the moment when it came, but no one could imagine the empty feeling that would follow. I could see my grandma’s restlessness growing even as she accepted my grandpa’s passing. I felt her tension acutely. And yet, she persisted. She developed a routine that worked for her, that helped her to keep moving forward. Just as my grandpa had admonished, she did her best not to lie around crying and missing him. But the tension hung over us, and my anxiety was making it harder for me to be there for her.

Around this time, I finally spoke to a doctor after getting on Medicaid thanks to my low income status (after all, I am still only making money in pesos and far below what is considered an average income in the States). For years, I have struggled with the ebbs and flows of anxiety and depression. I recognized it, have been to therapy for it, and actively sought to overcome it with a combination of mindfulness meditation, yoga, and other coping mechanisms, some healthier than others.

A year ago, I was awakened to the extent of my father’s bipolar disorder. His struggle to find the right ratio of medications and therapy had been difficult to watch, sometimes frustrating, other times equally upsetting as it seemed almost futile and inadequate against all of his years of trauma, unhealthy coping mechanisms, and escalating mental and physical illness.

However, there was one thing I took away from all of that. He had improved. The journey was tough, and progress was not linear, but the change was undeniable. So although my mother and other family members have a wary view of medication, I decided to follow my doctor’s advice to see if it could help me sort out my physical and mental issues.

Honestly, I could not have picked a better time to try. I’m not sure how else I would have gotten through the rollercoaster that was only just beginning in mid-August. Once the emptiness of my grandfather’s death passed – or at least was managed – we became almost immediately and comically (if in only a “divine” way) uprooted by Hurricane Laura. I don’t need to describe the devastation of the storm – it’s left its own mark on the media and public imagination as much as Hurricane Katrina has, even if it has received what most would consider less coverage (which as others have pointed out, could be due to all of the other natural and human disasters shaking the globe). We were displaced for an entire month. Three of those 4 weeks I spent living in my uncle’s house so that I could continue to teach online. Most of my time has been consumed by that work, and I am so grateful. Routine and responsibilities do help loads during uncertain times. They create a sense of normalcy, a grounding of consistency. Plus they help to remind you what day it is. My students have been a godsend during these times.

But after all of it passed, we were still left with land covered in debris and homes, while inhabitable, feeling alien to us. My grandma and I returned and steadily began to clean up and pick up the pieces left behind.

And then, almost ironically, just after the ceremony we held to lay pawpaw’s ashes to rest in Bogata, Texas…another storm reared its nasty head. Hurricane Delta went through while I was comfortably traveling with my younger brother, yet for all that we enjoyed ourselves, the twist in my stomach at not being able to return home – again – was sharp and sickening. Once again, we are craving normalcy during an utterly weird time of our lives, a time when everything seems possible and yet nothing seems easy. A time when so many are struggling, losing parents, neighbors, and loved ones of all sorts.

And I am brought back to the purpose I seek – the unity, the understanding, the compassion. And I am reminded that by being able to face my own problems, I have been more equipped to achieve this with others. A calm in the storm, a clarity of mind unattainable by me before.

To close this reflection, I would like to share some poems I have written over the past year that I feel encapsulate this awakening, this painful growth, and the power it has given me to persevere in spite of all adversity. These are more so portraits of what I’ve seen and where I’ve been. Yet they make me all the more grateful for where I am today. Weird a place as it may be.

Depression is not a silent killer

Depression is not a silent killer.
It screams and shouts
Sometimes
It breaks things –
Plates and forks and frames
Sometimes –
It just breaks hearts.

Depression is wishing:
You were dead
Thinking:
Who’s gonna care anyway?
Being immobile:
Neither asleep
Nor awake.

Depression is a flatline
It’s seeing your dad dressed for his own
Funeral –
It’s not knowing
If waking up is ever really worth it
While the dreams fill you with fear of sleep –
But still –
It’s a cycle.

Depression is living –
It’s alive and breeding
Making a home in your darkest thoughts
Making a chant of your biggest flaws.

Depression is feeling
Awake while you’re asleep
And asleep while you’re awake.

The fact is –
Even though you can’t hear it –
Even if it doesn’t make sense –
If the words don’t come out right –
If there are no I-need-you/help-me’s –
No cries for help –
The signs are there:

Depression is not
A silent killer.

Trauma

Trauma lives
deep inside our bones.
We can’t sweat it out,
our tears won’t make it go away.

Trauma
blinds us
and breaks us.
But sometimes
it breaks us free.

When I remember
his hands around my neck
my hands pulling his hair
our fists and teeth clenched
his fingers pinching the razor blade
till red paint bursts across my eyes
the hatred in his eyes
the fear and heavy breathing
the sweat and heady tension –

I remember that
I am free.
And I thank God
that it’s just a memory:
a deep-seated
PTSD.

Unhealthy

How to break the cycle?
How do I become more whole
So that I avoid breaking myself
In two for someone else?

Today
The earth reminds us
With every fire, every shake, every storm
Of the old adage
That no matter where you are:
What injures the hive, injures the bee.

I thank you, reader, for looking outward and inward. During this time, we must remember that we aren’t alone in our struggles, and while there is no one simple solution, we can overcome the worst and the darkest. We might need to fall a thousand times or lose our homes or just have the courage to reach out to others. But it’s worth it. Today, in spite of all of this, I feel grateful to wake up every morning, to have something to write about, to be alive – and that’s not always been an easy thing to say. And I’m grateful to you.

Thanks for accompanying me on this journey.

Anxiety and Working Abroad

Considering it’s the beginning of a new academic period, I feel reflecting on some of the struggles I’ve had with anxiety are quite apropos. I started this post last year, and since, I have made progress and even have some advice. That being said, and at risk of sounding cliche, this is a daily struggle.

For some time, perhaps my entire life, I have lived with all sorts of nagging fears I knew to be completely irrational. They’re the sort of feedback loop of kneejerk reactionary thoughts that have you literally rolling around in bed, tossing and turning for hours. Every time I’ve been under stress, that feedback loop tends to become deafening and even debilitating to my abilities to socialize and feel good about myself. Unfortunately, as much as I enjoy living abroad and the challenges it has brought me, the anxiety is still there, like a constant rain cloud a la Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh.

Disclaimer: I have never been diagnosed with General Anxiety. I don’t know if that makes my experience less legitimate or if I should avoid self-diagnosis, but it’s one of the few helpful frameworks I have for dealing with these types of feelings and experiences.

Before I knew anything about mental health, I thought of myself as simply defective. Why were things that seemed so normal for other people so damn hard for me? Why couldn’t I just go out and smile and talk to people when I lived somewhere new? Why was it so hard to acclimate to new situations, to feel stable under pressure, to cope with minor shake-ups? Why did I feel like I needed to hide away, to be invisible, to avoid some sort of terrible consequence that even I couldn’t fathom? Sometimes I still feel defective and angry with myself for being that way, despite realizing that it isn’t my fault.

Living with anxiety on its own is just hard. Being put into a new environment with strangers and rigorous expectations can be crushing.

My first year taught me how to cope with the over-stimulation I often get when my anxiety peaks. However, I still have a lot to learn.

As the holidays lurched to a close, it began to dawn on me just how unprepared I was. Impostor syndrome soon followed, and before I knew it, I was incapable of eating without my stomach tying itself into knots (fun fact: last year I realized the full link between stress/anxiety and my acid reflux/gastritis; my symptoms are mild when I am in a non-stressed, neutral state, however the peak had me thinking I had an ulcer last period and practically incapable of eating without suffering from extreme heartburn and cramps – the more you know).

I’m no stranger to this feeling; however, last year at this time, there were moments I thought it would actually fully impair my ability to teach. So, I developed coping methods. Some better than others, but they have served me well. Now, at the end of week two of classes with lots of projects and goals staring me in the face, I feel more centered than ever in spite of my strong bouts of momentary panic.

So without further ado, let me give you a rundown on some tricks I’ve learned (the hard way, of course) for managing anxiety and stress:

1. Me time. Me time, me time, me time.

When I leave the school and stop being forced to be around other people, I have come to realize there is zero guilt in absolutely indulging myself. That can be as simple as taking a long (*cold* – this is Coastal Colombia, after all) shower, painting my nails, laying around with phone in hand, and just generally doing nothing but soaking in the essence that is me. I can’t believe that ever made me feel guilty, I mean, seriously, how diluted was I to think the need to constantly be around others and not “missing out” didn’t just add to my anxiety. But boy, does it ever. So now, I embrace a night in or a solo date getting ice cream (or better yet, a smoothie from Cosecha’s) or a meal at the mall conveniently located at walking distance from my house. Nothing resets me more in the midst of exhaustion from a demanding work environment than bringing my gaze inward and treating myself.

2. Explore more.

I’m not talking full-blown trips (though that is related, but I have chosen to separate the two in my mind for reasons). It could be as simple, if the place is new to you (as Valledupar was to me), as looking up a restaurant containing your favorite type of food and making a plan to go check it out. Many times when I have been lonely and overwhelmed, I have taken it upon myself to arm my own plans to go walking and bathing in the local river, to checking out different art galleries downtown, to just soaking in the little things around me and letting myself meander along and get lost in the new place I now feel I can call home.

3. The arts are your friend – even if you think you aren’t an “artist.”

Whatever your interests, art heals. Performing for others has always amplified my anxiety, it’s true. But jamming with others, now that’s something I can get behind. It doesn’t have to be making music though. Writing – a poem, short story, song, journal entry – whatever floats your boat can really help with those stressful days when other, more pressing matters just don’t seem doable. It also helps process thoughts and alleviates  my anxiety in that way so that I feel less overwhelmed and burdened. Something I picked up back when I lived in Los Angeles and still do to this day is light sketching. I am by no means super talented, but that really doesn’t matter when engaging in the arts as an act of survival and a means of distracting from or channeling intrusive, anxious thoughts and energy. This could also include enjoying a good film or getting lost in a book. Creativity is the key.

4. Traveling, and doing so with as little baggage as possible.

Now, this was a hurdle I’ve had to overcome that also challenges me because it generates anxiety initially. But I love to travel. Truth be told, a lot of things I love cause my anxiety to peak in an uncomfortable way, but I’ve found if I can power through it, the feeling after the fact of satisfaction really outweighs the knots in my stomach caused at the outset. One of my favorite things about Colombia is the ability to explore the country on a budget, to just take off at pretty much any time and go almost anywhere on the bus. Is this difficult? Yes, sometimes it is, especially if you are the planning every pit stop type, but it has helped with the restless spurts I get with my hectic, demanding work schedule which often makes me feel like life revolves around work (and thus has me “missing out”). Of course, there’s no reason it has to be that way! It just takes effort to plan (minimally) and take off.

5. Don’t be afraid to talk to (relative) strangers.

I’m still not a huge advocate of approaching random people or inviting them into your house. I mean, friendliness is good, but reserves aren’t all bad either. But I’ve found that feeling down and anxious can lead one to perpetuating a cycle brought about by projecting onto and avoiding others. Then we sort of craft a negative reality removed from the perceptions and perceived criticisms of others which could even enhance that sense of loneliness and unease. So one way to combat the anxiety that causes it to simply talk to people. If there’s a topic or a question, hiding it away does no good. It can be hard, but when the moment comes, I have learned to embrace even the same conversation a million different times and ways with the taxista. These casual exchanges can sometimes lead to friendships or at least interesting encounters that can improve your whole day. Having an open mind doesn’t hurt, and I think being less guarded has actually helped a lot with my anxiety as a whole.

6. Ask for help.

I think this may be the biggest lesson the last few years have taught me. I recently started going to a therapist to learn more about myself and how to process my own experiences and difficulties related to anxiety and depression. All of my friends and family that know have been so encouraging. It’s true that we all have suffered in some way, and frankly I think everyone could benefit from therapy. But also asking for help in general can be so difficult when dealing with anxiety because, at least for me, it makes me feel like something of a burden upon others. Paying someone to shoulder part of that burden by simply listening and providing insight, strategies, and feedback is so nice. But if that is too much, reaching out to friends and family, as hard as it can be (especially if you’re like me and have too much pride at times) is so very worth it. That’s how we know we aren’t truly alone.

7. Be present. 

Don’t forget to breathe. Live in the moment. Let the anxiety settle on you like a restless, weary traveler – it’ll be gone before you know it. It just takes time. Those days have happened to me plenty often, the days when I feel like I’m buzzing or overheating and boiling over like a pressure cooker left on too long. Those are the days when it’s important to unplug and focus on the now. Mindfulness and stoicism have been some of my saving graces that I have been working on ever since I moved to California. Here in Colombia, it continues to help me maintain my balance when I feel tossed about by life’s unpredictable, fickle nature. Yoga, meditation, journaling – all are tools I would highly recommend. Just breathe.

Hopefully this list will continue to grow, as I truthfully, as I predicted, this experience has drawn the anxiety out of me and drain me. It has been an immense challenge at times – between the personal and the professional struggles I have faced and my own worries about the future – for me to follow this advice and remain present and in my element despite being pushed out of my comfort zone. But I will say, it has been worth it. I wouldn’t trade this experience for anything.

Please share your own experiences with anxiety in the comments. Anybody else living abroad who has had that utterly horrifying, restless feeling of not knowing what they’re truly doing with their life? Finding it hard to do simple, mundane things or to ask for help in a new environment? Trust me, I’ve been there, and I’m all for giving (and receiving) advice and tips.

Especially those that don’t involve simply downing a bottle of aguardiente until you forget what country you’re from, not to mention your anxieties. (You can file that under the list of unhealthy coping methods I would kinda-sorta-not-really recommend when dealing with these situations – you know, only when the situation calls for it, of course)