Screw You, Anxiety

At one point in my life this is not something I would have brought up on my own or openly talked about.  I found it embarrassing and was afraid of looking weak.  I think all people have a closeted issue they like to keep to themselves for the same reason - looking weak, being embarrassed, feeling alone, being judged.  Could be addiction, depression, OCD, ADD, PTSD, IBS, who knows!  Today I am admitting mine and it's self-diagnosed panic disorder.  Albeit I have a very minor case of it, but that's my (or one of my) "issues."

Looking back at my few incidents I can finally laugh at the unfortunate memories.  I'm not saying anxiety issues are funny because many people suffer from it to a debilitating degree.  I have a much less serious form of it and have been able to find the humor in my personal experiences.  So please don't read this as though I'm insensitive to people with anxiety or think it's funny.  If something happened to me again I wouldn't be able to find the humor in my new incident for quite some time.

There have been two times in my life where my nerves got the better of me.  The first time was in college and the second time was during my professional career.  Both times my body reacted the same internally, but they each had different external outcomes for the audiences that got to witness them.

Growing up I never had issues with anxiety.  I would get nervous to get up in front of people, but I always succeeded and did just fine.  I'm sure being in performance activities like show choir and color guard during high school helped me in the classroom when I had to give reports or presentations.  Which is why I was completely unprepared and blindsided for what happened my freshman year of college.  Of all classes for this to happen in it was my sociology class - the study of the origin, development, organization and functions of human society.  I think the only more ironic class this could have happened in was psychology.  The class was split up into groups to prepare group presentations on different topics.  My group planned accordingly, we all prepared our own portions of the presentation and were ready to present on time.  No reason for extra nerves and I wasn't even up there alone.  We all stood at the front of the class together and eventually it was my turn to approach the podium and present my part.  It was in powerpoint form on the computer in front of me, projected up on the screen.  I was doing just fine until all of a sudden I started feeling really fuzzy.  My body felt weak and my vision became very tunneled.  Darkness started closing in from both sides and I only saw light directly in front of me.  And then the worst part happened.  I started hallucinating.  (Yes, I know what you're thinking and no I was not on anything).  The little vision I had left, which was my computer screen right in front of me, went completely white.  The words and images just disappeared from the screen.  But then one tiny letter appeared in the distance and slowly floated towards my face, growing bigger the closer it got, and then popped like a bubble right in front of me.  Then another letter did the same thing.  Then another.  I felt completely outside of myself.  I tried to continue talking based on memory but eventually one of my group members said something like "Okay, let's move on to the next part."  Luckily there was a chair against the chalkboard that I could sit in.  Once I sat, sweat started pouring down my face as though I just ran a marathon in 100 degree heat.  I leaned forward, taking deep breaths, trying to get my heart rate under control, as well as my sweat glands.  I couldn't tell you how the rest of my group did.  Once the group was done I went back to my seat where the teacher had been sitting at the empty desk next to mine.  I asked him if I could leave because I wasn't feeling well and his very inconsiderate response was "This isn't meant to torture people" in a very rude way.  Not the response I was expecting from a sociology teacher.  When I reiterated I didn't know what was wrong with me and wanted to leave he said "whatever" but by that time the next group was up and starting and the last thing I wanted to do at that point was bring more attention to myself, so I just sunk in my seat and wondered what the hell just happened.  In that moment I didn't even consider anxiety because the experience was so new to me.  All I knew was that I was completely embarrassed and hated attending that class for the remainder of the semester.  I also lost all respect for that teacher.  Later on when I apologized to my group I told them what happened and how I tried to continue from memory, which is when they told me I actually had stopped talking and was just standing there.  This only added to my embarrassment.  So I guess me speaking was also a hallucination.  Every time I entered that class for the rest of the semester I felt all eyes were on me for being that weird girl who just stared at everyone blankly from behind the podium, and then perspired her body weight.  As I contemplated over time what that experience was, the last thing I wanted it to be was anxiety.  If it was anxiety that meant I lost control over myself, and I'm a bit of a control freak.  It meant I showed weakness to a group of people who are easily judgmental.  It meant it could happen again, which terrified me.  After it happened this one time I was and forever will be afraid of it happening again.  I began to fear presentations and getting in front of people way more than I ever had in the past.  I changed my way of signing up for classes, avoiding ones I knew would put me in this position again.  Required courses that forced this, such as Public Speaking, I took during summer school in hopes the classes would be smaller, or at least less formal.  It was a new kind of scared I had to contend with.  After my sophomore year I transferred schools (for unrelated reasons) and decided to stand up to my fear and push the boundaries I had set for myself.  So of all things, I got involved with a comedy group.  This was at a time that I was scared of speaking in public, I didn't think I was funny and I didn't think I was creative.  Best. Idea. Ever!  But that's for a whole other blog post.  This definitely helped with performance issues and I got through college without any more anxiety mishaps.

Once I graduated and began looking for my first job the fear set in again and I chose to not look for positions that would require speaking to large groups of people.  Small groups (meaning 5), fine.  Large groups (10+), bad.  About 4 or 5 years into the workforce I was spontaneously asked to explain a web reporting program to our largest client who was visiting from another state.  The client is a very well-known automotive brand who spent tens of millions with our company.  I got nervous, but no preparation was really needed as it wasn't so much a presentation as it was just showing how I used this reporting tool on a daily basis.  I had about an hour to at least get some organized thoughts together in my head.  The setting of the second incident was in the main board room.  There were about 20 people, a mixture of client visitors and internal coworkers.  Enough that the long conference table had every seat taken and more had to sit in chairs along the walls of the room.  When I walked in I saw a podium, a computer and a projector.  All the bad memories came rushing back, but I did my normal internal chill out talk to myself.  I'm pretty good at acting like I'm more fine than I am in those situations.  I began speaking and was doing fine.  I actually got through it, but remained up there to answer questions after my boss added a few comments to what I had shared.  And then the fuzzy feeling came.  I thought "oh shit, here it goes again."  Since I knew what the fuzzy feeling meant this time I tried to be proactive.  What I should have done was sit down.  Instead, I walked to the beverage table and got a coke thinking maybe sugar will help to suppress my inner jitters.  Clearly I wasn't thinking correctly.  I walked back to the podium, ever so carefully through my escalating tunnel vision trail, took one sip, set the coke down on the podium, and then...wait for it...I fainted.  This was not a glamorous fall.  I did not fall back on a bed of pillows with my knees clasped together and the back of my hand ever so slightly touching my forehead.  This was a jaw-dropping did she just die fall.  I was standing about 2 feet in front of a wall that was actually a bunch of built-in cabinets.  Unfortunately the cabinet directly behind me was open just a crack.  So as I fell backwards my head hit the cabinet which slammed shut and made everyone jump, not to mention bring all eyes in my direction.  And because the wall stopped my fall while still fairly upright, my knees buckled and my back slid down the cabinets to the floor until I was sitting on my butt with my knees up in front of me.  PRAISE JESUS I was wearing pants.  I had considered more feminine options that morning.  Now I was clearly unconscious during this, but based on how I was before I fainted and when I woke up quickly after, I imagine that is an accurate description.  Right as I hit the floor I began to come to, and two girls I worked with that were closest to me each grabbed an arm and pulled me up.  The second I was in a standing position I made a beeline for the door ignoring the awkward silence of the room.  I went directly to the bathroom which had a chair and I just sat there chanting "that did not just happen, that did not just happen."  Once again the sweat started pouring.  The two girls who pulled me up followed me in to make sure I was okay.  One of my unforgiving, incessant, workaholic, unhumorous clients came in to check on me, and trying to find humor in the situation I jokingly said "Do you have any more questions?"  She unjokingly said "Actually I do" and while standing in the bathroom proceeded to ask me like five more questions, and I quickly answered as I continued to dab the sweat off my face.  I didn't go back to the board room.  Throughout the rest of the day as people stopped by my cubicle to check on me (clients included) my face turned red knowing they either heard about it or were one of the lucky ones that got to witness it.

A few years later when I began searching for my next job I chose to face my fears again, just like in college, and the next company I worked for put me in front of much more than 20 people that I spoke to on a fairly consistent basis.  And over time I actually learned to enjoy it.

At the beginning I said I had self-diagnosed panic disorder.  This is because I've never seen a psychiatrist about it.  But after doing some minor research I found this from Anxiety and Depression Association of America which sounds just like my story: [Panic disorder is diagnosed in people who experience spontaneous seemingly out-of-the-blue panic attacks and are preoccupied with the fear of a recurring attack.  Panic attacks occur unexpectedly, sometimes even during sleep.  About 6 million American adults experience panic disorder in a given year.  Typically developing in early adulthood, women are twice as likely as men to have P.D.]  While 6 million Americans may seem like a large number in general, it's really not when you put it in perspective.  That's like the population of Atlanta, which is only 2.7% of the entire U.S. population.  That kinda bummed me out because it made me feel more alone than I expected to be.  However with further research I realized I was only looking at my type of anxiety of panic disorder.  There are many types of anxiety, affecting 40 million adults 18+ in the U.S. which is 18% of the population.  While I hate it for those 40 million people, it shamefully makes me feel better about myself.  I always hear that public speaking is the #1 thing people are afraid of, even more so than death.  But most are able to get through it without embarrassing incidents.

Although many people take medicine for these issues, I have refrained, partially because I'm not to a debilitating level where it has lead to an unsatisfactory life.  More so because I'm in denial about it.  I don't like to have things wrong with me.  I can admit to having had panic attacks and I can openly write about having self-diagnosed panic disorder based on the ADAA description above, but I don't think of myself as a person with panic disorder.  Does that make sense?  Even though I've had these incidents, I still always try to overcome the situation when I'm put into it.  Sometimes I succeed and clearly I have failed a couple times.  And it's very possible the fuzzy feeling will return again when I don't expect it, and although on that day I'll be embarrassed and crying, I'll have another story to tell years after it happens having found humor in it.

Whenever I see a celebrity win one of those televised awards (like an Oscar) and they give this perfect, eloquent, calm speech, I am in awe.  If that were me I would get up there and blankly stare at everyone, wobble back and forth on my skinny heels, faint (with a dress on) and someone would be dragging me off stage like a mop leaving a slippery trail of sweat behind.  Here's hoping I never win an Oscar.

My Path To Becoming An Author (Part 1)

When I was a child I loved writing poems.  Stringing together lines of words that ended in rhyme while keeping each line relevant to the overall message was a challenge that came easy to me.  The words 'challenge' and 'easy' sound ironic in the same sentence, I realize, but maybe that's why I liked it.  It was both for me.  I didn't feel like I had to try that hard at it and I was always proud of the finished product.  The very first poems I wrote (that I remember) were for an Author's Award in 5th grade.  I forget the official name of this contest, but so many grades and so many schools participated in it.  I believe it was mandatory at my school so every kid had to write a book.  And then two kids from each class from each school were chosen as winner and runner-up to read their book to the masses at what would later be my high school.  I got runner-up for my book that I creatively entitled...Poems.  I felt extremely proud and although I attended the event, I had to leave before my turn to read due to another conflict, piano recital I think.  But this is where my love for writing began.  I actually found the book sprinkled with discoloration due to years in a box.  Here is the first poem from that book:

Day To Night

The sun rose bright
with all its might.
And the breeze was cool
just like a pool.

And at night 
when everything was out of sight
the moon showed out
without a doubt.

The final poem of the book.  Saved the best for last.

Pretty epic, eh?  In 5th grade I thought it was awesome.


As I barely treaded above water through three of the worst years of my life, the torture that is middle school, I continued to write but with a little more maturity and knowledge of the real world.  The first poem I wrote that I was extremely proud of was called What's Happening In Our World.  I had just finished 7th grade.  My grandma even framed it and hung it in her guest bedroom, which to my 13-year-old self equalled success.

What's Happening In Our World

What's happening in our world today?

I know it's not very good.

There's drive-by shootings all the time

and there's gangs in the hood.

Our streets and yards are filled with litter,

our air full of pollution.

If we all work together

I'm sure we'll find a solution.

Wars break out in all countries.

All soldiers risk their lives.

God rest their souls

if any of them dies.

There's those who drive drunk

and get off scot-free.

Although they might've hurt somebody

they only have to pay a fee.

There's cigarettes, alcohol and drugs

put into the hands of our children.

Some of these kids may even

get it from their own kin.

A mother kills her babies

or maybe they're forlorn.

How could a mom do this

when they are her own born?

What's happening in our world today?

I wish we could do more.

If there is a place where none of this was true,

I would open that door.

This catapulted me into many future poems, some written to boyfriends as a romantic gesture, some mandatory for English classes, and some to relieve teenage angst I was going through.  By high school graduation I had filled an entire notebook.

Here's the last poem in the notebook.  It was written on April 9, 2001.  Fourteen years ago.

The Flight of Time

Time flies by

Fleeting so fast

That it escapes through my fingers - 

Out of my grasp.

I try to hold on,

But time has its way

Of making each year

Grow shorter by the day.

I yearn for each hour

To prolong its bustled hurry.

The shortness of life

Puts me in a fury.

For every single day

You learn something new

Whether it's factual, theoretical

Or something about you.

The things there are to know

And the deeds there are to do

Each make a difference

And could start a life anew.

The family I've known

And the friends I've met

Have formed my life to something

I will never regret.

Time is so precious.

It's the most important thing we've got.

It makes up your life

Whether it's a little or a lot.

Some experience decades,

While others enjoy a century.

Others only get a taste of life

And leave us in a hurry.

I've lived through childhood,

And many school days.

Now I pray to continue on

Without any delays.

I want to experience marriage

And children of my own.

I want to go to Paris,

And I don't want to die alone.

I want to start a career

And be successful at what I do.

I want to retire and move somewhere warm

Where the skies are always blue.

I want to see my grandchildren

Play in the sand.

I want to experience everything

That I possibly can.

For then when I pass on

And up to Heaven I climb,

I can die happy

And move to the next dimension of time.

At this point you may be looking at the title of this blog and thinking "Does she want to publish these pieces of crap she wrote during her grade school days?"  The answer is no.  These poems and all the other ones I wrote in between just gave me practice and experience for my next unplanned project that surprised even myself.

The summer between high school and college I had a random idea.  I don't remember exactly when or why I thought of it, but one day I sat down and started writing a children's story in rhyme.  And what's really weird was I was not fond of children.  I retired from babysitting when I was 14 if that gives any inclination of my thoughts on little kids at that time.  It was so long ago I don't remember my mind set during the project.  Before I was done with it, I left for my freshman year of college.  I don't believe I touched it that whole school year, but when I returned home that first summer my motivation came back to complete it.  And after I wrote my last verse and reread it I knew it was good enough to publish.  But there were 2 problems - I had no knowledge of or direction on how to publish a book and I had no money to pay for it even if I figured it out.  So it sat.  And sat.  And moved houses.  And sat.  For the past 14 years I've never once thought 'that book will never get published.'  Many times when you read things you wrote in the past, you laugh at the stupidity or immaturity of it, kinda like what I do with those 5th grade poems above.  But this children's book was different.  Any time I've read it over the past 14 years, I still love it.  The ambition to publish it has always been there, I just needed the motivation.

When Joe and I decided to pursue the stay at home mom life, we had a little secret up our sleeves.  I could have stopped working 3 1/2 months before I did, but Joe proposed a brilliant idea.  If I continued working for a few more months, my paychecks would go into a new savings account that I could later use towards publishing my book.  It was my book publishing savings account.  That would give me a small stack of money to debit from while not feeling guilty for using "Joe's money" to fulfill my dream.  It would also allow us to see how we'd live on Joe's income alone while still having the security of my job (just in case it didn't work).  So for those last 3 1/2 months I drudged into my office every morning chanting, "This is for the book.  This is for the book."  I've been home for almost a year now, getting accustomed to my new life, knowing that savings account is sitting there waiting for me, but still always distracted by everything else that needs to get done.
Then, very recently, I was looking up inspirational quotes for a project and I came across a few that screamed at me.

"Life begins at the end of your comfort zone."  -Neale Donald Walsch

"A man who dares waste one hour of time has not discovered the value of life."  -Charles Darwin

"Try and fail but never fail to try."  -Jared Leto

"Action is the foundational key to all success."  -Pablo Picasso

"The best time to plant a tree was 20 years ago.  The second best time is now."  -Chinese Proverb

"Faith is taking the first step even when you can't see the whole staircase."  -Martin Luther King, Jr.

"Never give up on something that you can't go a day without thinking about."  -Winston Churchill

That last one really hit me the hardest because I honestly think I've thought about publishing my book every day since I wrote it.  It's that one thing that is always lingering next to every other thought I have.  I have another morbid thought that always accompanies it which is 'I hope I don't die before it happens.'  So I'm forging ahead.  There's no better time to do it than now while I'm home.  I also really want this book to come to life while I have young children.  I've always had the intention of going back to work when kids are in full-time school, but if I can put the beginner work in now and create a writing career while I'm home, I may never have to go back to the corporate world.  Becoming a full-time writer that gets paid would be a dream come true.  I have other ideas for books, children and adult, and as long as I keep writing I think more ideas will continue to blossom.  I wish I had never stopped writing in the first place, but am so glad I'm back at it.

So I'm now in the very most beginning stages of becoming an author (hopefully).  I plan on blogging about my path to
1. Keep myself motivated to continue no matter what obstacles come my way and
2. Possibly help others pursuing the same dream.
As I do research, make decisions, take action, get rejected, etc I will document my steps here on my blog.  This is only Part One to what I hope turns into a successful Part Ten, Part Twenty, Part Fifty or more.  Whatever it takes, this book will get published!


I still plan on blogging about other random things in tandem with my Author posts to hone my writing skills.  Be on the lookout for one about anxiety!

Things I Learned and Observations During My 40-Day Facebook Ban

My naive little ill-informed self always thought Lent was for Catholics. Therefore I never thought it pertained to my Methodist religion.  It wasn't until a few years ago that I learned that's not the case.  This year I decided to participate in Lent for the first time and the thing I chose to give up was Facebook.  I knew I had an obsession with it and was on it way too much so I figured I'd go big my first year.  Here are some things I learned and other observations during those 40 days and 40 nights of taking Facebook out of my life.

1. I surprisingly didn't miss it.  Before I took the Facebook app off my iPhone I thought it was going to be really hard not to think about.  I thought I'd crave it, constantly wonder what others were posting, wonder what articles I was missing and what celebrity gossip I'd be unaware of, but I didn't.  It was as though the days of pre-Facebook instantly came back to me and there was no desire to know what everyones lives were about.  It was very liberating.

2. My fingers have memory/instincts.  Even though I didn't miss it, my right index finger did.  After I removed the Facebook app all my other apps moved over a space so where Facebook once was, now my weather app lied.  The first few days after getting out of my mail or some other app, my finger instantly clicked on the weather.  Every time I was on my phone!  Pure instinct.  I remember many times pre-Lent where I'd get on my phone to do something specific and a half hour later after getting off Facebook I'd realize I never did the thing I got on there to do.  I now know it was frying my brain and taking away the importance of the things I actually needed to accomplish. Actually, I knew that at the time, but I was in denial.

3. I focus more on my life instead of getting wrapped up in others.  I keep up with our parents and closest friends via phone, text, email and in person, as one should.  All those other "friends" are just background noise that I really shouldn't be concerned about.   The first thing I did when I got back on Facebook was a big purge.  I'd rather just have my real family and friends and people I have current things in common with see my posts and pictures.  I did miss sharing the latest cute things Eva said or did, or sharing pictures of fun days and events, but in the end, most of the people that really care about them got them in other ways.  I'm sure no one else missed them.  If you did, I'm sorry. They'll start again, but at a different pace.

4. I'm a procrastinator and my biggest vice was Facebook.  Okay, so I knew this already...it wasn't something I learned.  Whether it was in my car to keep me from getting home as soon, on the couch to keep me from going to bed or in the bed to keep me from going to sleep, I always thought I need to see the latest posts before I do my next thing. That was so ridiculous and obnoxious!  No I didn't!  At night after Eva is asleep I usually have a list of things that either need to get done or stuff I just want to do in my down time.  Many times though, pre-Lent, I'd first sit on the couch, open up Facebook and before I knew it I had been on there for 1-2 hours having accomplished nothing.  Then I'd drag my pathetic self with half-closed eyes up to bed thinking I absolutely hate myself right now. Once the ban started I found myself still using my phone in other ways to procrastinate - looking something up online, checking weather for the next day 5 times a day (it can't change that much!), checking my empty Amazon cart for no reason, deleting junk mail, looking up famous people on IMDB, job searching even though I'm not looking for a job.  One time I went on Wikipedia to learn about some serial killers.  What the hell?!  It was like I didn't know how to put my phone down.  As I started to get bored by all of these useless time-spenders and couldn't yet go back to Facebook I started putting my phone down more and actually accomplishing things that needed to get done, including sleep.

5. On night 7 without Facebook I actually dreamt about logging in. But even in my dream I was able to avoid the temptation.  However, I do believe I woke up immediately after, which is usually the case with nightmares.

6. My 2nd day of no Facebook I got a "where are you" email from Facebook.  TWO. DAYS.  It let me know how many messages and notifications I had as well as naming a few random people who had posted something during that time.  Do they really need to reach out after only 2 days?  And what's worse is I've never gotten this email before, which sadly proves I was on it every day.  I continued to get these emails on a daily basis.  It annoyed me so much that it actually validified my doing this.  It wasn't persuasive at all, which I think was their motive.

7. A week after removing the app from my phone I synced my phone to iTunes on my Mac.  Whenever I do this something weird usually happens like it'll add some of Joe's apps to my phone or add some of his songs to my playlists.  But as I was going to bed that night I got on my phone and low and behold the Facebook app was back.  That was the only thing that got added onto my phone that I didn't tell my computer to do.  I'm starting to think Facebook is either psychic, sorceress, stalking me or magic.  Delete.

8. This whole Lent thing is new to me.  I knew what it was but I had just never participated so I wasn't aware of all the rules.  Apparently on Sundays you're allowed to partake in your banished temptation.  I had started Lent thinking I couldn't look at Facebook for 40 days.  And even when I learned this little tidbit I had no desire to log on just because it was Sunday.  It actually kind of disgusted me thinking about it.  Almost like if I got on it would be a chore rather than something I'd want to do.  I foresaw a new and improved Jamie waiting at the end of the Lent tunnel who looks at Facebook on a much more restricted level.  I'll be on the Facebook diet, if you will.  Small healthy courses.

9. Did I mention that we also canceled our DirecTV on the same day I banned Facebook?  I felt like I was becoming Amish.  But it's true what they say.  Just like when you keep snacks out of your house so you don't eat them, it's easier to avoid screen time when it's not available. I've had this list of things to do since I became a stay at home mom and many still hadn't been crossed off.  That list has a lot more horizontal lines on it now.

10. Did I also mention that I started a hard-core diet and exercise regiment 2 weeks before Lent ended?  My life was spiraling into control!  After my first week of this diet I lost 5 pounds and a combined total of 3 inches off my bust, waist, hips and thighs.  I'm hoping to keep this going so I can be confident come bathing suit season which is fast-approaching.

11. It gave me more time to think about what I want out of life.  I always question the stay at home mom life vs the working mom life and it allowed me to contemplate it more, although I still haven't made a decision.  I went to bed more often at the same time as my husband, which is never bad for a marriage.  And because I went to bed earlier it allowed me to not be as tired when Eva woke up at her usual 5am.  I was a little more refreshed and in tune (except for those nights when she woke us up every 2 hours just to have her blankets readjusted). And I wasn't comparing my life to others that I don't even keep in touch with.  It allowed stupid envy to escape my body and I could more so enjoy what I have.


I do think Facebook has been a wonderful invention that allows people to keep in touch who wouldn't otherwise.  And has helped businesses and groups of people get their names out in public to become known and successful.  But it's also a curse because literally billions of people have diverted their focus from their own lives to others.  It's made bullying easier, it's caused countless infidelities, it's increased jealousy, it's wasted hours of time.  It's sickening to think on a global level how much could have gotten done over the past 11 years since Facebook started. If you take the total hours spent on Facebook by each of these billions of people ever since they each signed up, that's hundreds of billions of hours that we as a planet have limited ourselves from actually learning, teaching, inventing, helping, volunteering, figuring out our lives, spending time with others, working, playing with our kids, meditating, being spiritual and doing the things we love.  I definitely miss the days before Facebook entered my life.  But it's also become a way of life that is hard to avoid.  So I'll still be on, but not as much.



Thanks to my sister-in-law who started up a People subscription for me so I could stay abreast of my celebrity gossip that I usually rely on E! and Facebook for.  Thanks to Joe for finding a cheaper alternative for TV viewing.  We don't have nearly as many channels but we have the ones we watch the most and don't waste time channel surfing anymore. And thanks to my organizational skills for having a to-do list most days that kept me on task to get things done which distracted me from my Facebook desires early on.  Oh yea, and thanks to salads.