I’ve taken a break from blogging, as you may have noticed.
For the past month, I’ve been confronting my anxiety with counseling, medicine, deep breaths, and radical self-care. I am still writing, just not for the Internet right now.
A lot of people are talking about mental health right now in the aftermath of Robin Williams’ death. It’s a conversation I’ve watched and grown from, as it speaks to me in my place of beginning recovery. I don’t have anything profound or new to add to the dialogue, and it’s all too raw and fresh for me right now. So I’ll keep this short.
Anxiety disorders are real, and they are terrifying and sometimes overwhelming. But I have learned there is hope for healing, if I seek it out. It is not failing to reach out to a therapist, or to take a little white pill every morning with breakast. I am on my sixth day of medication, and I can feel the fog slowly lifting. My heart isn’t pounding. My stomach isn’t clinched. My thoughts aren’t running 100 miles per hour on a treadmill. I feel at peace, and I wonder why I didn’t get help years ago.
I’ll probably continue to rest from blogging for a bit longer, but not forever. I have so much to say from this experience–just not yet.