The Storm Before The Calm
Or: Behind The Scenes Footage of What My Anxiety Looks Like Before a Vacation
It was approximately a year ago that I wrote my piece regarding how anxiety and joy have co-existed inside my turbulent little body for as long as I can remember. In it, I reflected on the jumble of emotions that accompanied a family trip we took to Florida when Katherine was not yet even 6 months old and Coronavirus was a whisper amongst travelers at Logan Airport.
Now I find myself, a mere month away from a girls trip to (you guessed it) Florida (how original) and I thought I might give y’all a peek behind the curtain to the madness that is my brain.
Like any vacation, this one started out as a hyperbolic conversation between besties. I think at one point we were discussing going to Bora Bora. Then, articles were shared with no-nonsense titles like “Must Visit Beach Destinations For You and Your Closest Gal Pals,” and dates were discussed. At this point, I was operating at about 99% enthusiasm and 1% skepticism (if it’s a good time at work for one, it’s little Johnny’s soccer tournament yanking another one back). This phase lasted for a while, but soon a location was selected, along with a time frame - and *POOF* - I was on VRBO trying to find a house where I can have my own bathroom. Miracle of miracles, I found one where we can all have our own bathroom! We booked the house, a few weeks later we booked the flights, and then I entered a new realm of pre-trip emotions. Where had my enthusiasm gone? I have no idea. Maybe it’s with my desire to wear real pants and my left air-pod. I was now filled with about 70% dread and 30% forced optimism. Not excitement. Not like, “oh it’ll be so awesome to lie on a beach with my four best friends for three days”, but much more like, “oh everything will probably turn out ok with this experience.” And as the trip approaches, these numbers ebb and flow a bit - brothers and sisters and cousins of “dread” show up to give “dread” a night off. Unfortunately all of the excitement and enthusiasm that I believe should be there have vanished without a trace. Instead of shopping for a new bathing suit, I’m having nightmares about the trip - all of them revolving around me being afraid and alone.
I am reminded of how I have been this way for as long as I can remember. It’s something I’m still unpacking in therapy. After years of therapy. I have been running from the same monster for most of my forty years on this Earth. I’ve come up with ways to evade it, unhealthy coping mechanisms to deal with the persistent fear and intrusive thoughts, and ultimately a dependency on the comfort of home. When I am home, I am safe(r). And thus, my brain is always calculating the shortest route home. I know how far away everything is - with and without traffic. I know where the off-ramps are and I know who I can count on to come pick me up. Kenny is my home. When I travel with him, I feel safe(r).
DETOUR. Four years ago, I went to a two-night yoga retreat out in the Berkshires. Alone. I wish I could say it was life-changing. It was a lot of things. It was fun. It was inspiring. It was relaxing. It was empowering. I enjoyed myself very much AND I felt an immense sense of pride in the fact that I went alone. It felt like redemption after I made my dad come pick me up from volleyball camp my junior year in high school. However, it did not change my life.
Instead, here I am, about to embark on a long overdue girls trip with friends who I have known since middle school. Friends who are more like family. Friends who feel like home. And I am still nervous to do something that feels scary for me with them, to put myself in such a vulnerable position with people who have not seen me in the throws of a panic attack.
I have been outrunning the monster for so long, and I am tired. I give myself grace and admiration. I have done the work and I will keep doing the work that allows me to survive and thrive and not have so many bad habits as a result of fear. So I will go on this trip, equipped with: fidget toys, breathing techniques, a killer playlist, and my meds. I also won’t forget to pack my sunscreen, a great book, a cute dress, my sense of humor, love for my friends, and my cell phone charger. I will go on this trip - a trip that for most would represent a break from the daily grind or a fun adventure with friends or a chance to soak up vitamin D, or all three! For me, it will be all of those things AND proof that putting in the work, works. Anxiety and joy can co-exist. For anyone who can relate - I see you. And remember that you can do hard things.
And for anyone who can’t - remember that hard things don’t always look like hard things.
Love to love you all.
xo,
A
Ari this is so well written. You have a gift. Sorry you go through this and in reading it I realized my sister, Jo, has been going through this same anxiety since she was a child. She’s 90 and still feeling this. And yet she became an award winning, dynamic Tupperware manager and succeeded for over 30 years. You both are very brave. Have a wonderful time with your friends! Midge