You're Not Special Read online

  Anxiety fucking sucks. I want to say that it’s gotten better; it hasn’t, but it’s gotten different. I go to therapy, and through that I’ve been able to unpack more of where my anxiety comes from and now have tools to talk myself through it. I’ve accepted that I’m going to battle anxiety for the rest of my life. I have also accepted that this fact doesn’t make me special; it makes me human. Anxiety disorders affect a massive percentage of the world’s population. No matter how alone I may feel, by straight-up mathematical evidence I am not alone. #Science. Or, I guess, #Math in this case.

  a comprehensive paint-by-numbers, step-by-step how-to on dealing with depression and anxiety from a completely unqualified twentysomething with no medical degree, let alone any college degree

  Tell Somebody

  It could be your best friend, a family member, or anybody you trust. It doesn’t really matter who you tell, just that you do it. I wish I could promise that the second you say it out loud you’ll feel a weight off your shoulders, but that’s not always the case.

  Sometimes the person you tell won’t understand, believe you, or take your statements seriously—which, I can say from personal experience, is pretty disheartening. But that doesn’t mean you should stop trying. Tell somebody else. Tell them repeatedly. Reiterate that you’re not okay and that you’re not okay staying not okay. Eventually someone will listen, or you can do what I do and pay somebody to listen.

  Talk to a Professional

  This step is obligatory.

  Something I’ve learned from being in my twenties is that everybody is kind of fucked-up. Everybody is going through shit, dealing with shit, and working on their shit. I think that’s probably always been the case, but at least, when I got to this age, people started talking about it more freely than before. Being able to have candid conversations with my friends about our psychiatrists and why going to Target on a weekend afternoon is a nonnegotiable never-going-to-happen thing, is cathartic and comforting. But it’s not the same as seeking help from a medical professional. I cannot stress the importance of that enough. So much of the time we try to check our own emotions and discredit them; we think, Other people have it worse, or we could personally get lower than where we’re at right now. That’s essentially like saying, “People have terminal cancer, so I’m not going to the hospital for my broken arm because it could be worse” or “I cut my finger, but I’ll just wait until it’s infected and requires amputation.” The best time to get help is BEFORE you hit rock bottom. Would you rather fall twenty stories or two stories? I mean, (d) none of the above, but you get the gist. A common misconception is that therapy and psychiatric help are expensive. Which they can be. But so are school, rent, and food—all necessary and justified survival expenses. We spend money to be educated and have roofs over our heads and food to eat, so we can grow up, get a good job, start a family, and live happily into old age. If we disregard our mental well-being, all of that money we have put into those other aspects of our lives and our futures will be rendered completely useless. It’s a necessary, vital expense and investment in your future. When it comes to this professional help, there are so many different options and all different price points. There are in-person therapists and psychiatrists who work in private practices, and there are therapists employed by schools. There is group therapy and there are support groups—some cost money, others are free of charge or are covered by insurance. There are video sessions, phone sessions, and even apps you can download on your phone to help you get through the day. There is literally no excuse for thinking that professional help is not an option for you. It’s like dating: it might take a while to find the right fit, but there is help out there for everyone. It took me trying a handful of therapists and psychiatrists before I found the right ones for me, but it’s worth it.

  Find Your Triggers

  If you’re unfamiliar, triggers are basically anything that causes, provokes, or progresses a feeling, in my case anxiety and depression. I’ve always likened it to having an allergy. For example, if I were allergic to nuts and I went balls-deep into a vat of Costco lightly salted fancy mixed nuts, I could be assured that my throat would swell up and I would go into anaphylactic shock. So I wouldn’t do that. Another way to describe it would be that somebody who gets terrible motion sickness should avoid roller coasters and whale-watching boat tours. Enough explaining? Okay, cool. At least for me, the discussion of my own triggers came up pretty early on in treatment. I’d assume that’s true in most cases (hopefully), because the whole point of working on yourself is to apply it to your daily life. You’re not just ignoring it all until you’re forced to discuss it weekly or biweekly. In the case of my own social anxiety, I had a way easier time deciphering my specific triggers than I did with my general anxiety. Automatically, I was able to rattle off a list of social situations that made me uncomfortable, but even those were pretty much blanket statements. It’s easy to say that social interactions make me anxious, but it’s way harder to pinpoint what exactly makes me uncomfortable within those interactions. So, Meghan, how do I find my triggers? Great question, thank you so much for asking. Truthfully, it’s trial and error. I’m a huge list maker, and at some point I found myself keeping a list on my phone of things that triggered my anxiety and depression. Keeping a record of them might sound weird or pointless, but I really felt in control. I was able to put my feelings into words rather than letting them just stew as feelings. Plus there is nothing more rewarding than being able to delete something off that list. Granted, I’ll probably add another thing later, but that’s beside the point.

  ways i cope with my social anxiety

  1. Push (but not too hard).

  How terrible is it that I wanted to make a sharting joke here? Sorry, gross, moving on. Anxiety is something I am going to live with for my whole life. With that in mind, my goal is to constantly strive to not just live with my anxiety but live in spite of my anxiety. In order to do that, I have to push myself to do things I am not entirely thrilled about or comfortable doing. Stepping outside my comfort zone is the only way I can begin to expand that. It was daunting at first. It seemed pretty pointless, as I saw no real drastic changes in myself. You don’t walk 10,000 miles overnight. But if you take intentional and steady strides, one day you will turn around and need to squint to see how far you’ve come. It can be really frustrating at times, especially if you push yourself too far. Instead of propelling yourself forward, you stumble three steps back. Low points are difficult but not debilitating, and they make those high points feel like you’re Usain Bolt (or whoever is the new fastest person in the world when you’re reading this).

  2. Know your limits.

  This isn’t to detract from the inspirational as fuck paragraph I just wrote above. It’s more like that paragraph’s cynical yet starkly realistic cousin. There are some things that just aren’t going to happen for me right now, and that’s okay. They may be things I’ve tried multiple times but they all ended terribly. They might be things that I wouldn’t do even if it was my last day on earth. They might not always remain such deal breakers or hard lines, but for the time being, they are. That’s okay. There is nothing wrong with knowing your limits and standing by them. It doesn’t make you a party pooper or a wimp; it makes you self-aware and strong. If anybody tells you differently, I will shank them. Or at least @ them.

  3. Find alternatives for FOMO.

  I don’t know if I should be proud of my nonexistent FOMO, but I totally am. This is largely due to the fact that instead of just forgoing all social activities, I’ve found alternatives that are far less terrifying and are actually—dare I say it?—ENJOYABLE! And by “alternatives” I just mean I force people to hang out with me at my house. We don’t have to leave the couch, and I don’t have to put on pants. This also works on a grander scale: dinner parties, brunches, and at-home game nights too! Believe it or not, people are actually looking to have low-key sober fun sometimes, and the options are slim. You’re not a regular mom; you’re a c
ool mom.

  4. Work the (buddy) system.

  Sometimes anxiety-inducing situations are unavoidable. At some point your friend will throw a rambunctious party at a bar, you’ll need something at Target that is store-pickup only, or your work will make a satellite group bonding event mandatory. There are just some things you cannot get out of no matter how hard you try. (Believe me, I’ve tried.) In these cases I rely on the buddy system. Whether that means getting a +1 and bribing a friend to accompany me, or just planning ahead with someone I know who will be there as well, that built-in comfort of having someone with me is calming. You can also be candid and clue them in that you’re feeling anxious about the situation.

  5. The internet.

  Use it. Love it. Live it. Not only will you be able to interact with fellow humans on days you need to recharge, you’ll also find a truckload of very helpful information and techniques about coping with anxiety. Let it be said that online interactions cannot substitute for real-life interactions in their entirety. Think of the internet as your training wheels or your Olympic camp. Use it to build your confidence before you venture into the real world. Or at least use it to avoid customer service phone calls.

  6. Set small goals with bigger rewards.

  Because incentive, duh. For me this could be something as simple as grocery shopping alone or braving the crowds at Coachella (which I am zero for two right now, so that one is more hypothetical). If I’m able to successfully do something that usually would terrify me, I’m so fucking proud of myself. I’ll play some happy Kelly Clarkson songs in my car and I’ll treat myself to some new throw pillows. (My life is exciting, I swear.) Being able to give myself a pat on the back for accomplishing something that used to seem impossible not only reinforces wanting to keep up this streak, it also reminds me that I am making progress.

  how i cope with general anxiety

  1. Create a safe space.

  For me, this means making my home happier than Disneyland. I think it’s important for everyone to have a place where they can feel a sense of comfort and peace. This means completely different things to different people. It could be supersoft blankets and muted colors or even just being surrounded by familiar things that bring you joy. Whatever it is, make your space a reflection of that sense of calm.

  2. Have a routine.

  The frustrating thing about general anxiety is that in most cases it isn’t brought on by anything specific that you can avoid. There is usually zero logic behind our anxious thoughts, but that lack of rationality doesn’t stop them. One thing I have been able to notice in myself is that my anxiety tends to get worse when I’m confronted with spontaneity and sudden change. If I have ample time to mentally prepare for something, I can almost guarantee I will feel far less stressed-out than I would if something is sprung on me at the last minute. Although some aspects of my day-to-day life are out of my control, I at least structure what I can. For me, that means waking up with ample time to get ready and drink my morning coffee in front of the TV with the latest episode of Barefoot Contessa on as I scroll through baking blogs, pinning cookie recipes. Even if that morning time is the only part of my day that brings me a sense of peace, I can always look forward to the next morning.

  3. Sleep better.

  If I could go back in time and shake some sense into my whining preschool self when I was throwing a tantrum about bedtime, I would. I vastly underestimated how important sleep was to a healthy mindset. I always assumed that the only real side effect of not sleeping was just, you know, being sleepy. But in reality a lack of sleep or a restless night of sleep doesn’t just leave you feeling groggy in the morning; it can leave you feeling tense, irritable, and extra-anxious. The kicker here is that insomnia is closely tied to mental disorders in general. While those of us with those challenges need sleep for our mental well-being, it’s also harder to fall and stay asleep. I 100,000 percent struggle with this, and while I am by no means perfect at taking my own advice, I do make the effort. First, I need an hour of zero work—minimal brainpower—to “cool down,” if you will. My brain is like a horny teenager: it needs time to simmer down. I might spend this hour reading, or Facetiming my best friend, or watching The Great British Bake Off. Next, I make myself a cup of tea. Usually a Sleepytime or a “calming” blend—which might be a placebo effect, but who cares. Into that tea I add a few drops of CBD oil, which (for those of you who live where it’s legal) is A GODDAMN GAME CHANGER. Do your research if you’re not well-read on it, but from my experience it’s like herbal Valium. The next crucial step for me is getting into bed early. I have never been one of those people who fall asleep the second their head hits the pillow. Once horizontal, it’s going to take me another solid hour or more to actually fall asleep, so I’d better get the process started early. Knowing that I’m not going to get enough sleep is another source of anxiety for me. Instead of waiting until “bedtime” to crawl into bed, expecting to pass out right there, if I give myself a cushion of time to actually get tired and fall asleep, I find that I’m less worried about falling asleep, so it’s easier to fall asleep. Also, invest in a weighted blanket. Best $100 I ever spent. There’s a whole scientific reason why it works, but who cares why. It just works.

  4. Get a security blanket.

  I don’t actually carry a blanket Chuckie Finster–style with me everywhere I go, but I’m not above traveling with my weighted blanket. As somebody with a very addictive personality, I struggled to find something comforting I could do that wasn’t destructive. As a teenager I used to pull out my eyebrow hairs and eyelashes. When I stopped that, I began to chew the inside of my cheek until I’d have a mouth full of blood blisters and welts. Cute, I know.

  These days, in particularly bad moments of discomfort or anxiety, I’ll fiddle with the rings on my fingers. Some hold sentimental value, but in general just the act of busying my hands and holding on to something tangible is grounding.

  I’ve developed other little idiosyncrasies, like rubbing the tips of my fingers together or intertwining my toes together. But I think having a physical object you can hold not only prevents you from adopting a habit that may turn harmful, it also offers a comfort outside the confines of your own body. It’s something that grounds you to the world outside your racing mind.

  Things I Say to Myself to Make Me Feel Better When I Feel Like I Could Actually Die from Things I Can’t Actually Die from, Like Listening to a Voice Mail

  You are not going to die. A man walked on the moon.

  David Blaine is still alive.

  This will pass.

  chapter 21 finding your own family

  I never wanted to write this chapter, and I didn’t intend to. The event that this chapter leads up to was one of the hardest things I’ve ever gone through. It was earth-shattering and it broke me. It was the first time I resented my own success, the first time I truly wished that nobody knew who I was. It was something so painful and personal to deal with in my everyday life, and suddenly I couldn’t escape it anywhere. My mentions were filled with questions, my comments were flooded, and every time someone brought up my family in person, I almost lost it. I don’t want to talk about this, because it still really hurts. But I think it’s always going to hurt. I’m done keeping this in, letting people speculate and create their own versions of the truth. I’m sick of people asking about it, and I’m so sick of lying. For the first and last time, I am telling the whole story. I am setting the record straight, and then I am done. I am really, really done.

  I didn’t grow up in a happy home. I don’t remember a time when my parents were happy. Maybe their wedding pictures. My mom was seventeen years younger than my dad, and when I was born she was the age I am now. Which is terrifying to think about, as I am not even close to being equipped for motherhood. Neither was she. I was their first and last kid together, which was both a blessing and a curse: a curse because I had nobody to endure childhood with, and a blessing because nobody else had to endure it. I think a large part of the reason
I turned out okay was because it was just me. If I had had siblings or someone to talk to about it, I probably wouldn’t have been able to justify so many things as normal. I mean, it affected me at the time, but I also had less to overcome, because I didn’t know I had something to overcome. I thought most moms hated cuddling with their kids because it made them feel smothered. I assumed all moms wrote notes critiquing their kids’ performance in school plays for them to review once they got home. I presumed all dads worked seven days a week. I thought if your parents fought, it was your duty as a kid to be a pawn in their drama. I got used to the sounds of incessant screaming and doors slamming, as well as one of them grabbing me out of bed and buckling me in the back seat as they drove away. For a while I tried to make them get along. I felt guilty, because so much of what they fought over were things that had to do with me. I tried to make them kiss like in the movies. I remember being, like, six years old and having a pile of change I had saved up from couch cushions and sidewalks. I offered it to them, asking that, in return, they kiss. On a good day they’d laugh and force a one-armed hug. Most times they just changed the subject. Eventually I gave up.