Here's a short list of things of some of the things that I wanted to blog about but didn't in the interim (and probably won't subject you to retroactively):
Glee - Seasons 2 and 3 and the awesomeness that is Kurt (Chris Colfer) and Blaine (Darren Criss)
The 2010 Midterm elections - including Lisa Murkowski's successful write-in bid for Senate and the ever-controversial Rand Paul
The failure of the Senate to pass DADT repeal before the 2010 midterms, its subsequent repeal during the lame duck session, and final reversal during 2011
The numerous gay teen suicides and the amazing "It Gets Better" campaign (see Zachary Quinto's amazing video below for reference)
My successful attempt at sweet potato casserole (and various other culinary creations)! (See here for photographic proof)
Research and its numerous
Fall in New England (No really, you need to see this)
The
Well, you get the idea. There are probably many more things that I wish I'd written about during my hiatus but these are at least a good flavor. This is not to say that these topics are completely dead. I might try to make up some ground on a few of them (like DADT), but I won't bore you with full entries about each one.
That might, of course, lead you to wonder what has been keeping me from writing about these topics. Although I wasn't originally sure that I would write about this, I realized that while I was dealing with it, I thought that there was no one else who was going through anything like it and it definitely made me feel isolated. So with that, if even one person takes away something from my experience, then I suppose it'd be worth it. And if nothing else it's going to be cathartic for me. So there. Ha.
At this point you're of course thinking that either I have murdered someone or been fighting off ninjas. While I've come close to the latter a few times, neither have been the case. Instead for the past year and a half, going back to even May of 2010, I've been dealing with health anxiety. In fact, during the aftermath of my initial wave of existential crisis when this health anxiety began to set in was when I first began this blog as a means of distraction and a space to vent.
Of course this is what psychologists would call hypochondria. Now in my mind true hypochondriacs are those who believe unequivocally that they have a particular ailment or disease. I don't feel as though I've ever really gotten to this point. Instead I've been much more concerned about just making sure that I was well, and while this often meant making sure that I didn't have a particular disease, I never quite got to the point where I was fully convinced that I had the diseases that I was afraid of. Regardless of my fear, I always had an equally rational part of my mind trying to recite the statistical reality that having any one (let alone multiple) of the diseases I became afraid of was almost nil. The main point though was that I was afraid that I was going to have one of a multitude of diseases - some chronic and some incurable which only added to my anxiety, and ultimately this anxiety became debilitating.
Of course, my therapist drew the distinction that while one may not be convinced of having a particular disease, the fear of disease is still just as powerful if not a different form of hypochondria. You might wonder what diseases I could have possibly been afraid of as a 23/24 year old with no known medical conditions other than being relatively overweight. Here is a list (which probably is not exhaustive) of the diseases or conditions that at some point I was afraid of having:
Brain tumor
Unruptured brain aneurysm
Kidney disease
Fibromyalgia
Crohn's disease
Mononucleosis
Multiple sclerosis
Leukemia
Lyme disease
ALS (Lou Gherig's disease - more on this in a bit)
and HIV (though anyone who is sexually active should know their status!)
Now, I'd really like you to take a look at that list. Just stop and peruse it one more time...
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Did you do it? HOW FREAKIN' SCARY IS THAT?!?!?! Of the 11 items in that list, only 2 are non-chronic/terminal/life-threatening - Mono and Lyme (though if left undetected Lyme eventually causes serious problems but it can ultimately be cured). Further, 5 are incurable, chronic, or progressive illnesses (Fibromyalgia, Crohn's Disease, MS, ALS, HIV - 6 if you include kidney disease as this often is progressive, ending in the need for kidney transplants but that can be over the course of a lifetime) with ALS being assuredly a terminal illness.
Now, imagine that you are concerned about having any one of these. What about 2? 3? What if as soon as you were done being concerned about one, you started to be concerned about another? It’s certainly enough to make your head spin, but more than that, imagine what it would do to you psychologically to constantly be worried about your health and be convinced of your imminent demise. What kind of space does that leave in your mind for the multitude of other things that you have to do during a day? In my experience, the answer is unequivocally – not very much.
Now, before I begin this lengthy diatribe, remember that part of my reasoning in writing it is to provide the slightest bit of insight not only into my own experiences over the last 18 months, but to provide an account of what it is like to suffer through such oppressive anxiety in the hopes that someone may take some bit of comfort from it (if only to know that it hasn’t been as bad for them). Dealing with existential crisis in and of itself can be a terrible ordeal. To suddenly be unsure of one’s place in the universe or feel as if you’re so small that no matter what you do, it will ultimately be completely insignificant in the grand scheme of things can be shocking. We’re all brought up to feel that we have our own lives to lead – a story to tell and be a part of. To then feel as though your story is no longer your own is to feel as though you’re being tossed around like a rag doll in the currents of a world run amok.
Now imagine that not only do you have these feelings, but that they are exacerbated by a belief that your death is no longer a far-off, down-the-road event but an event that is just around the corner. It is a feeling not only of heavy dread, but sorrow for unfulfilled potential and the loss of expected future life events. It is a shock to the system which paralyzes and numbs – a shock that while easy to induce is unimaginably hard to be rid of. It results in a meltdown of nuclear proportions leaving only a barely-functioning individual capable of only the most mundane of tasks necessary for continued survival. All other motivation and energy is sapped away into a void of self-defeated fear rendering the most menial tasks difficult and social interaction or creating anything of substance all but impossible. TL:DR version - This is a long-winded way of saying that dealing with these issues suuuuuuuuuuuuuck.
To make matters even worse (I know, right?), the greatest part of my anxiety has centered around ALS or Lou-Gherig’s disease. I won’t enumerate the specifics of the disease, but in short, it results in fatal wasting of the body’s muscles, rendering it unable to support itself or necessary functions. Further, there is no known curative treatment for the disease and even the few treatments which exist to prolong life in the slightest of ways are exceptionally unreliable. So, given the debilitating nature of hypochondria-induced anxiety, what worse disease to fuel that anxiety than one which is rare, incurable, untreatable, slow to show its effects, and ultimately fatal? No amount of repeating the statistics and quiet reassurances can fight the anxiety ultimately brought on by such a hypochondria-induced existential spiral. And this is where I found myself for well over a year and a half – a hostage to my own anxiety. Sure, I would have times where I would try to pull away and remind myself that there were things that were far more important (like my grad school work), but no matter how much I tried, I found myself unable to detach myself from this relentless force. Instead, my work languished, my relationships suffered, and worst of all, I couldn’t seem to fight any of it. This isn’t to say that I didn’t care about what was happening. On some rational level, I knew that it was all ridiculous and a total fabrication of my mind, but this was little comfort or use against the continual onslaught of my existential angst. And so it went on. And on. And on. I struggled to put the necessary effort into my work, and when I did, it meant that I had that much less energy to put into my relationships or vice versa. All the while, when I was left to my own devices, I would feel as though I was drowning in self-pity and anxiety.
Now that I’ve thoroughly depressed you, you have to be wondering, “How on earth does this possibly have a good outcome?” The answer is that I was lucky. Over the course of this ordeal I tried many times to simply talk myself out of it, to wake up to the reality that I was fine and that there was so much for me left to do and explore (and that I’d have the opportunity to do it), but the reality was that it just wasn’t enough. It took a final confrontation with one of my doctors to give me enough
Say what you will about placebo effects, but just the thought of having some form of help other than therapy (which I found to be woefully ineffective) began to break me out of my self-imposed prison even as I was only days into antidepressant therapy, not to mention whatever minimal therapeutic effects I was receiving from the medication itself. To mix metaphors, it was like waking up from a dream, having the scales removed from my eyes, and seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. That may sound extreme, but given where I was starting from, it’s exceptionally accurate. As my anxiety started to fall away, I could feel my energy returning and was finally able to channel it into forging new, meaningful relationships and start to focus on my work again. This isn’t to say that it turned out to be a miracle cure. As I no longer had to continually deal with my anxiety, I came to realize that there were other things holding me back - my perfectionism and fear of failure for starters. Yet, in the grand scheme of things, these were minor setbacks to be tackled as part of a growth experience - a growth experience that had been prevented and stunted by my health-related fears. But those minor setbacks would not prevent me from reaching my dreams and pursuing what makes me happy.
"Hold your dream, don't ever let it go. Be yourself and let the world take the rest."
So in the past few months, I have finally started to feel like myself again. A person who has the potential to do great things, know great people, and generally make the most out of life. The main regret I have is that I’ve wasted so much time trapped within my own mind with what-ifs and worst-case scenarios. In a sadly ironic sort of way, it made this blog that much more relevant considering I managed to trap myself in a mental Skinner box. Therein, regardless of what I did, the vicious cycle of anxiety and hypochondria fed each other into a paralyzing furor and all but forced me to give up hope.
But now the box has opened, and it’s time to move forward. I can’t say that it won’t be an ongoing struggle to avoid falling back into my own mental traps, but I refuse to let this experience define me or continue to have power over me. Thus, short of another catastrophic meltdown, I will probably not write about it again. It’s time to start fresh, realizing that there are highs and lows, happiness and sadness, successes and failures, and good days and bad. But importantly, those happy days have finally returned.
