What is this? Why is this?

Anxiety.

Oxford defines anxiety as: a feeling of worry, nervousness, or unease, typically about an imminent event or something with an uncertain outcome.

Until recently I didn’t know what anxiety was or felt like on a personal basis.  I would see people freaking out, and would immediately think.  WTF… get it together.  It’s called life.  Buck up and get your shit together. MarkmarkIt’s not that bad.

But life has a funny way of humbling you. My journey with anxiety began unexpectedly, creeping up like an uninvited guest. It started with a constant feeling of unease, a vague sense of dread that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. At first, I brushed it off, attributing it to stress or lack of sleep. But as days turned into weeks, the feeling didn’t go away. Instead, it intensified, morphing into a relentless mental fog that clouded my thoughts and made everyday tasks feel like monumental challenges.

I remember one particular morning vividly. I was driving to work, my mind racing with the usual to-do list, when suddenly, out of nowhere, a wave of panic washed over me. My heart started pounding in my chest, my breaths became shallow, and I felt an overwhelming urge to escape, to run away from… what exactly? I didn’t know. That’s the thing with anxiety; it’s often irrational, and the fear it brings can be hard to pinpoint.

That episode was a wake-up call. It made me realize that anxiety isn’t just feeling a bit worried or stressed. It’s a pervasive sense of impending doom that can hijack your mind and body. It’s the constant overthinking, the sleepless nights, and the inability to enjoy the present because your mind is stuck in a loop of “what ifs.”

At first, I tried to handle it on my own. I thought I could muscle through it, like I had with every other challenge in my life. But anxiety doesn’t work that way. The more I tried to suppress it, the stronger it seemed to grow. It was like trying to hold a beach ball underwater; eventually, it’s going to pop back up, often with more force than before.

I finally decided to seek help. The anxiety I was feeling was coming from an even bigger monster lurking in the depths. That monster had a name that I refused to acknowledge: PTSD. My wife told me over and over that I needed to go to the VA and get help. Of course, me being the stubborn, hard-headed Leo that I am, I wasn’t going to go get help. Then one day, the anxiety and accelerated heart rate got the better of me. I went online to make an appointment at the VA for mental health. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know who to talk to. All I knew was that I needed to make an appointment with the VA. I figured they caused it, so they should pay for it.

Within about 30 minutes of putting in a request for an appointment with a mental health professional, I had someone from the VA calling me on the phone. The person was a licensed therapist. We talked for over an hour. An hour of me pacing around my garage and just letting it all go. I truly felt that I was suffering from diarrhea of the mouth. I couldn’t stop talking. And she listened. At the end, she told me that she was going to forward me to the VA mental health team. That I needed to see someone as soon as possible. She explained that there were two different types of PTSD: normal PTSD and Complex-PTSD (C-PTSD). She was almost certain that I was suffering from C-PTSD.

This began my almost three-year journey to getting the help I needed and receiving compensation for the disability. A disability that has changed so much of my life. Not only with how I look at myself but also how I see others.

During this journey, I talked to friends and family, who were surprisingly understanding and supportive. It turns out, many people I knew had been quietly battling their own forms of anxiety. They shared their experiences and coping mechanisms, which made me feel less alone. I also started seeing a therapist, who helped me unravel the tangled web of thoughts in my mind and gave me practical tools to manage my anxiety.

One of the most important lessons I’ve learned is the importance of self-care. It’s not just a trendy buzzword; it’s a necessity. For me, self-care means setting boundaries, learning to say no, and making time for activities that bring me joy and relaxation. It’s also about recognizing my triggers and developing healthy coping strategies, like mindfulness and deep breathing exercises.

Exercise has also become a crucial part of my routine. It’s amazing how a simple walk or a session at the gym can clear my mind and reduce the physical symptoms of anxiety. Eating a balanced diet and getting enough sleep are equally important. It’s a holistic approach, addressing both the mind and body.

Another key aspect is acceptance. Accepting that anxiety is a part of my life, but it doesn’t define me. It’s okay to have bad days, to feel overwhelmed, and to ask for help. There’s no shame in struggling, and it’s important to be kind to yourself. We often show more compassion to others than we do to ourselves.

Now, when I see someone struggling with anxiety, my perspective has completely changed. I no longer think, “WTF… get it together.” Instead, I feel empathy and understanding. I know firsthand how debilitating it can be, and I’ve learned that everyone’s experience with anxiety is unique. What works for one person might not work for another, and that’s okay.