The Only Way Out Is Through

When I was in high school, I used to have what I would call “stress attacks.” My heart would skip beats and begin to race and I would have chest pain. It happened frequently- on the ice, walking around my home, and sometimes while driving. At 16 years old my mom took me to the cardiologist, and he noted I was one of his youngest patients. Stress tests, heart monitors, and EKGs showed nothing, and I was told it was stress related. Eventually my career as a national level figure skater ended, as did the majority of my stress attacks.

Now, my anxiety has returned yet it’s not the same. My body feels foreign to me; my legs and arms are heavy, my hands and feet are cold, there’s a weight on my chest, and my vision feels extra HD. I feel so much and so little at the same time. At the blink of an eye I can feel a wave of pain and heaviness pass over me, and then a moment later I feel light again. Through this entire unknown, my brain is quiet. It’s like all of my thoughts are swallowed up and pushed down into my frame and I carry it as weight. I carry it on to the ice, into my car, and up the hills of Manayunk.

There is no moral to this post; there is no pretty ending. Today I just want to share where I am. I want to reach out to anyone else who has anxiety and tell them that I understand. I’m here with you in this period of instability. I feel for you, and I feel with you too.

The only way out is through.

WTF can I do to feel better again?

We're Only As Sick As Our Secrets

The other day I shared a photo on Instagram of a seemingly “basic” shot- cute sneakers, fall leaves, and a nice hot vanilla latte. My message was different though, yet it was simple- “I need help.”

I decided to be public about my need to reach out for therapy. Having been a Psychology major in school, I believed in therapy and had always wanted to go. But more importantly, I felt that I needed to share this information. I needed to tell others I wasn’t ok to help me accept this. I needed to shine light onto my darkness. I needed to not keep a secret.

            We’re only as sick as our secrets.

The secrets we keep, the stories we tell ourselves, they eat us up. They take up space in our hearts and minds and block us from moving forward. They hurt our souls and bring us guilt and shame. They make us feel broken, unworthy, and unlovable. We can hide them away inside us and let them fester and grow and build up until we feel like we’re choking on ourselves, or we can BREAK THEM FREE. We can shine a light on them, we can talk about them, and we can stare our fears and secrets right in the face. But we must decide to do that. We must be ready to try. We must be vulnerable, and a little scared too.

And we must be ready to let them go. Because ultimately, we are worthy of a life filled with light.

WTF is your secret?

Self-doubt

Doubting oneself might be the worst form of self-punishment.  It throws even the most centered, logical person into a space of turmoil and pain. Everything instantly becomes a question and an answer; nothing can solve the riddle.  It’s like quicksand- the more you struggle and search, the quicker it pulls you down.

I used to trust my gut. I used to think I knew myself and my wants, needs, dreams, and fears. What I thought was fact now seems like wild fiction. Things that were set now seem unstable. I feel as though suddenly the massive ship I was traveling on just changed to an inflatable raft, desperately trying to stay afloat in the midst of a gusty storm. I’m drowning in my desperation.

There’s a battle between my head, my heart and my gut. I’m trying to breathe deeply and search inward for clarity. I am trying to find comfort in silence and space. I overheard in my yoga class someone say, “You can breathe into your heart, but you cannot breathe into your mind.”

How in the world is your brain supposed to find relief?

WTF happened??