Oh don't you worry, I have provocative thoughts...

I have a lot of provocative ideas and I’d like to express them, trouble is, my anxiety holds me back and well, I chicken out.

Maybe that’s just an excuse. Maybe I just don’t want to spew out my thoughts on social media and open myself up to criticism and debate. I’m kind of a coward that way, I guess. I’m often impressed by (though just as many times, embarrassed for) those that are able to keenly articulate their point of view on an issue and weather the storm that often comes along with that kind of openness.

I admit, I read a lot of those exchanges, but often find myself too tired or ultimately disinterested to continue. I guess in part because there are so many things in my life of managing anxiety, panic and depression that I don’t actively seek out ways to get myself more worked up than I need to be at any given time.

Of course I still educate myself on current issues and form opinions when needed or I’m inspired to, but then I stop short of posting those views publicly. Even if I wanted to post my views, I fear I would lose steam or energy in trying to valiantly defend my thoughts to those who may disagree.

I don’t like churning things up and I don’t like forced conflict (though I will advocate for the things I am passionate about) and sometimes I just want to keep my social interactions, pleasant and amiable.

Sound wimpy? Probably. However, through the years of dealing inside the tangled wires of my brain, I have found that I don’t need to participate in exchanges where I can add no perceivable value to the conversation. I have nothing to prove (at least not right now) and instead, choose to keep my opinions to myself and enjoy the spectacle that sometimes unfolds in front of me on my screen. When it’s not working for me anymore, I tune out.

Tune out that is, after I’ve done my share of reposting vague motivational sayings or Weiner dog videos.

Not always about me..wait..what?

When you are anxious on behalf of another person, you rev up your emotions to a whole new level.

When bad stuff is happening to someone you love, it’s natural to feel some of the pain with well-place empathy and support. When you are a person with an off the charts anxiety disorder, this becomes a little more interesting.

My anxiety order pushes me to act. This is not always (rarely ever is) a good thing. The anxiety, when at its highest, pushes me to take on the other person’s situation and “fix” it. Of course that’s ridiculous and I would counsel anyone who asks to NOT DO THAT.

However, my anxious spirit is not rational and therefore, I find myself a bundle of nerves with nowhere to go.

I am incensed. I am helpless. I am furious and I am profoundly sad when this happens. Sometimes, my anxiety masks itself as a super strong woman who is always proactive and makes the right decision. Let nothing stand in her way! She’s got this. All will come together to a peaceful resolution.

What’s really happening is that my brain is firing all over the place with half-baked plans and false heroism. Truth is, I can’t immerse myself in other people’s trauma as much as I am naturally inclined to do so. That’s some serious hard shit to swallow.

My emotions and my righteous indignation lead the way and my logical self is usually back at the spa enjoying a facial.

Dammit, this is hard. I have no sage words of wisdom for you if you ever find yourself in this position. In fact, I think I know what the wise thing to do would be, but it’s not in me at the moment.

I want to rail against the god’s on my partner’s behalf. I want to take all the shit that is happening and deflect it all. I don’t have the answers, but I have enough fight in me to take it on. Trouble is, I can’t.

It is not my fight as much as I want it to be. I can be there, with my anxiety and all, and support his way through the pain and injustice. I can soothe where I can, advise where possible and be a soft place to land. I just have to dial back my own emotions and not make this about me.

Not making stuff about me is a very hard thing to do when your whole life is affected by your own anxiety and panic. I live in a bubble a lot of the time and I’m a magnet for other people’s emotions. Time to put my big girl panties on and channel that anxiety into a calmer, gentler me so I can be of some use.

I just have to find my own anti-anxiety switch and power the heck down first.

Oh and finally, just let me say, I hate mean, ignorant and vicious people whose sole purpose in life is to cause pain for other human beings. They suck.

Game Changer

Hey all. It’s been awhile.

Lots has been happening in my world over the past couple of months and I feel like sharing some of it with you.

In my continuous effort to manage my anxiety etc. I was able to cross something else off my bucket list.

Solo theatre. Now, cross off might seem final, but instead, I found it to be an experience that I need to continue to work on forever.

It’s been hinted at growing up that I may have a tad of a desire to take to the stage. The timing is perfect for me now since I am at an age and stage in my life where I am willing to do battle with my self-doubt.

It’s still there, but I’m doing it anyway. For all of my life I have been looking for artificial ways to deal with my emotional ups and downs. Though they haven’t worked, they have certainly given me a shitload of material to work with as far as storytelling goes!

It’s only now that I am able to look back through the humiliation and despair and see the bit of (ok, a lot of) humour in my past behaviour. If I wasn’t able to do that, I would have been sucked down the drain of life for good.

At T minus 3 years to 50, I’m ready. I’ve wanted to perform and make people laugh since I could walk, but I didn’t have the courage to do anything about it. I would perform in my head and in some really dark times, perform while intoxicated and called it acting.

Soulo Theatre Founder and Artistic Director Tracey Erin Smith, has shown me a better way to clear the gunk out of my system and turn it into theatre. I found I enjoyed it so much more than flushing it out with alcohol. The euphoria I feel on the stage for 10 minutes is 1000x more than the 30 minutes of euphoria I feel getting drunk. The rest of the time is blank. And I don’t want any more blank spaces.

It’s ok what others think. It’s totally ok for people to roll their eyes. It’s more than ok for others to not “get” what I mean when I say that storytelling is not only fulfilling to me in so many ways and I will continue, it is also the best therapy I could have hoped for in my life.

So keep those challenges coming. It’s all excellent material.

And thanks to Soulo Theatre for showing me the way. And big thanks to Tracey, Brian, Kat, Chris, Domini and Eleni for the support.

Find your “thing” and make it work for you.

This S*&t Matters

There truly is something to be said for the freedom of being able to insult your closest friends after not seeing them for a few months.

My core group of girlfriends have grown from loud mouthed, free-wheeling, chandelier swinging party girls to loud mouthed, free-wheeling, less chandelier swinging (possibility of broken hips and all) party women. This group has been around for the milestones. They been around for the long absences. They’ve been around for the questionable decisions and they’ve been around for a laugh whenever needed.

When I saw a couple of these gals for lunch yesterday, I don’t think I managed to get my full butt in the booth before the insults were flying. It was like coming home. We comment on hair, what we’re wearing, what we’ve been doing or not doing and frankly just shooting the shit.

Someone like me who can spend quite a bit of time in the dark, seeing these girls is a shot of light that will keep me “up” for several days after the encounter. Whenever we get together we reminisce, but we always manage to do something stupid in that moment keeping our material fresh at all times.

It’s not always easy for me to be social. When I am social, it’s always best with them. I appreciate that. It matters.

You girls need to know that you’ve helped me in more ways than I can say.

Thanks Mary, Kimmer, Donna and Latch

Should I or Shouldn't I?

Should I or shouldn’t I?

I realize for the first time that I have spent the better part of my career (25+ years) trying to hide my disorder instead of trying to advance my career.

Let’s face it, that many years ago, if I did try to talk about it, the subject was either too uncomfortable for others or I was too embarrassed to bring it up. I looked for excuses to cover up any behaviour that could now be attributed to my disorder when I probably should have thought about healthier ways to cope.

As a young adult, I self-medicated. Not gonna lie, it was a method I grew accustomed too and relied on for way too many years. I could kick myself sometimes, and then I try to switch my thinking back to being positive. I didn’t know then what I know now. It’s a simple explanation, but difficult to process nonetheless.

As an adult who lives with a mental illness diagnosis, it’s hard sometimes to forget about it. It’s there and depending on who you are talking to or working for, there’s always, always trepidation about how much to share and when to share it.

I don’t hide it anymore, but I sure don’t wear a sandwich board announcing my condition to passersby. It used to be shame that kept my mouth closed, now it’s more careful thought given before opening my mouth. I’ll do it, I just try to gauge my circumstances as thoroughly as I can before I do.

I ask myself a couple of key questions (knowing that I may not get the honest answer, but I accept that).

Why am I disclosing? Does it benefit my situation and does it make sense for the other person to know? Will my disclosure bring about common understanding that can be useful? Do I trust the other person to at least try to process and understand?

There are probably a slew of others, but those are some key ones that I keep in mind.

I am an advocate for mental health awareness and so I’m obviously not shy about talking about my disorder (after all, the internet is kind of a public forum), but not everyone is going to read my blog and not everyone will be interested in hearing my particular story.

The whole point of my work around eradicating stigma (wouldn’t that be wonderful?) is to at minimum start the conversation toward understanding. A person with mental illness shouldn’t have to prove to anyone how sick they actually are or how little/much they can handle. Conversely those suffering with a disorder such as mine, should not force others to be compassionate and make demands that we may not have the right to make. People understand or they won’t.

I will keep at it as long as I can to spread the positive word around coping with mental illness. By god, it can be done.

Birthdays and Prom Dates

I discovered something while celebrating my 47^th birthday this past weekend. Having a non-milestone birthday is like going to prom with someone who is just  a friend.

You know what I mean, right? Having a birthday, any birthday is really nice. Don’t get me wrong, it’s just the fanfare isn’t there like it is when you turn 21, 30 or the big 4-0. People acknowledge on your facebook wall and you receive some cards, but it’s more like…”hey, it’s your birthday..yay”. As opposed to the parties and hoopla that often surround a milestone.

I am not complaining, far from it. It’s just an observation. It makes me think of my grade 12 prom when I went with a friend. I feel terrible because we had a great time, but his name escapes me. He didn’t have a girlfriend, I didn’t have a boyfriend, so we went together. Kind of a “hey, it’s your prom…yay.”

None of the fireworks or romance, just a nice time. I had someone to hold my hair back when I puked and he got to walk in with a hot babe. Not necessarily in that order.

Strangely as I sit here writing this, I realize I feel much the same at 47 as I did at 17. I’m sure I’ve matured. I know I’ve made some adult decisions along the way. Heck, I’ve been married more than once and I have a teenager. Still, I enjoy much of the things about life that I enjoyed at 17.

That’s part of the beauty of having a birthday, any birthday. Even on those “off” milestone years, you get the opportunity to reflect on your life and your place in the world. Memories pleasant and otherwise bubble to the service and you see just how far you’ve come.

I look in the mirror and still see the kid I used to be. I see the person who has withstood a lot of adversity and can still laugh every single day. That’s a gift. Every day you wake up alive is a gift whether it’s a milestone year or not.

I look in the mirror and I realize that I wear 47 well. Yay.

The Anxious Person's Worst Nightmare Day

I have restrained myself for an almost full 24 hours waiting for April Fool’s Day to pass. Or as I like to call it, The Anxious Person’s Worst Nightmare Day.

Seriously, I cannot ever remember a time in my life when I wasn’t beside myself with worry that I would be pranked on April Fool’s Day. When you already wake up each and every morning assuming life will prank you in some way, imagine the terror when there is an actual day dedicated to and sanctioned for pranking.

I shudder just thinking about it. Not only do I think April Fool’s Day is just plain mean at the best of times, it just adds another thing for me to worry about on an already long list. I simply haven’t got the time to layer on more anxiety about the unknown. The fact that April Fool’s Day even exists is enough to put me on edge.

And another thing, April Fool’s Day is for comedy amateurs anyway. If a prank isn’t just plain mean, it’s usually just really stupid and lame. Ok. Ok. I’m sure all of you have either crafted a brilliant prank and pulled it off or been the recipient of a clever stunt, but I think those are a rarity. Making people look stupid (and worse, feel stupid) is not my idea of a good time. Again, I have enough trouble not making myself look stupid on a daily basis! I don’t need the assistance, believe me.

My family knows that it is not in their best interest to prank me on April Fool’s Day. I am not, repeat not, a good sport in any way shape or form. I become angry and vindictive and things are thrown. It is not pretty and it usually ends in tears. My boys know to leave me out of the shenanigans and I thank them for it.

Trust me, this stand against April Fool’s Day isn’t about me not enjoying a good laugh. But that’s just the point, I enjoy a good laugh. Saran wrapping the toilet seat, setting an alarm clock an hour early, telling your spouse you are having an affair with their sister…not funny!

So, as I begin to relax and unwind a little, I plan on enjoying today and then ramping up my additional anxiety anticipating next year.