It’s not anxiety, just a glitch in adrenaline-management

I am the eye of my own storm.

My face is still, my expression calm.  Maybe I look like I’m thinking.  I’m not.  My eyes are closed. I take deep breaths. Onlookers and passersby might think I’m in a daze of some sort, perhaps something meditative.

Yeah, right. Maybe if my mantra was strobe lights and clanging noises.

I am the eye of my own storm, used to weathering these alone. I prefer it that way, actually. There’s no real way to explain it, no real way to tell someone else that No, I am in fact, NOT fine.  And no, I can’t at all tell you what’s wrong. All I know is that things are spinny and noisy. Why is there so much noise? Yes, alone is much easier. At least I understand it, even if I can’t explain any single thing about it.

I remember the first one. I was a sophomore in college, it had to have been halfway through the first semester or so. It was definitely cold out. But then, many months in Milwaukee are, particularly during the school year. I remember my dorm room, armoire doors closed behind me as I pressed my back into them, and then slid down until I sat on the floor. I clutched at my heart as my lungs grasped for air. What the hell IS this? It seemed to have come out of no where.

Of course, in retrospect, I can almost always tell when they “start,” not the heartbeats and spinning, but the shift in mood, in the perceived environment that was the spark. I’ll go ahead and attribute that “ability” to the brief time I spent talking to a professional, a counselor, a therapist about it. I’ve mentioned where my whole “live in color” mantra started. How my perspective on life is one of sunshine, and rainbows, and tulips, and kittens. But I’ve never really mentioned how my energy circulates.

Medical sources, when consulted, will support the fact that those predisposed to any kind of anxiety “issues” (I hate the word “issues,” don’t you?) seem to feel an uptick of such anxiety in the cold, dry winter. The spiritual being in me (who believes in things like Ayurveda and knows I’m a pretty consistent Pitta) blames a Vata imbalance, breathes through it, and moves on.

The best way to explain what my normal is now is this almost tantric-like cycle of energy. If our emotions tend to go up and down, then my low is probably your normal. I’m more than even-keeled; I’m bubbly. I’m optimistic (who am I kidding? I’m completely idealistic), bright-eyed, giant-smiled, and 100% GENUINE about all of that. I freaking love everything about my life, the woman I am becoming, and the beautiful relationships I have. My normal, my statusquo, my everydayaveragemood is a lot of people’s “high.”

But my high? Is off the charts. And for the most part, I RUN with that high. I productively channel that manic adrenaline into intense, inspired, superhuman get-shit-done mode. And work is accomplished, ideas are born, creativity explodes. Sure, I end up completely winded afterwards, but then I chill, self-medicate with wine, extra sleep, and splurge on meal ingredients for something to completely tear up my kitchen because experimental cooking for me is more relaxing than a bubble bath.

For the most part.

It’s been years since that cycling and recycling of intense energy has actually poured over the surface. I guess I’ve gotten so used to recognizing and channeling it, that I’d forgotten the relief that comes with just letting myself go through it.

I went through it all right.

I am the eye of my own storm.  Tense muscles, sure, but that’s still on the inside. You don’t see that. You don’t see the flickers and the noise, you don’t see the spinning. I am perfectly still. What you see and touch is cool, maybe a little clammy. What you don’t see… is wild, swirling, dizzying, spinning, falling.

For seconds.  Just mere SECONDS, even though it feels like ages. And then it’s over. Quiet. Clean start, blank slate. Rebirth.

Deep breath.  Start fresh. Send a quick thank you out into the universe for a psychologist who shared enough insight for me to understand and breathe through what “they” call panic attacks.  Me?  I’m just going to call it a breach in adrenaline-management.

And thank the stars and heavens that this isn’t something I deal with on a regular basis anymore.

(image that I’m now crazy obsessed and in love with: via)

Tagged as: if you're reading this i actually hit 'publish', shiny things, we're all a little crazy and this is my brand of it