It seems like everyone today has anxiety. A sign of the times, perhaps. In the US, anxiety affects around 18 per cent of people, but in autistic populations the incidence is said to be anywhere between 40 to 50 per cent —in other words half of us. That’s one crazy-ass stat.
Anxiety can be generalized or present as a specific phobia. Obsessive-compulsive and social anxiety are common, given our sensory and social challenges. Anxiety interferes with our ability to live and work.
My own anxiety looks hyperactive. I may pick at my hair or nails, pace or fidget excessively, eat compulsively, or become irritable and pick fights with those around me. I may speak too quickly, hyperventilate and panic. I assumed that’s what anxiety looked like for everyone. Wrong.
I also assumed that anxiety was a kind of deep-seated dread, reserved for stressful situations like tests or medical appointments. But anxiety doesn't distinguish between good and bad times. It rears its fat, ugly head whether I’m avoiding something or actively looking forward to it.
The night before my wedding—aka the happiest day of my life—I had a migraine and threw up seven times. Last year I went to Montreal for a couple days to celebrate my birthday and anniversary. I love Montreal, I studied there, so it’s a happy place. Yet as I stood in the middle of a busy street there was a sudden crushing pain in my chest. I felt dizzy and started to hyperventilate. I had to tuck into an alcove and wait out the panic. It made no sense. I was so happy.
On the surface my child’s anxiety looks very different. Carson can get argumentative and oppositional. In the lead up to their birthday there would be sleepless nights and phone calls from school. Outbursts and suspensions. It took me years to spot the patterns and connect the dots, though it probably shouldn’t have.
The anticipation leading up to Christmas every year made me sick, often sabotaging the very event I desperately looked forward to. It sucked. It still does. There’s not a whole lot that can be done about it. We’ve learned not to provide too much build-up around birthdays. We try to keep things on the down-low and have even pulled Carson out of school when a meltdown seems inevitable. Doled out melatonin on the eve of a special occasion.
Recently I signed a deal to publish my memoir. Writing and publishing a book is a labour of love and a dream come true. The biggest dream, in fact. It seriously feels like a windfall, and I’m giddy with excitement over it all. Yet over the next two years, as I near my publication date, I know the anxiety will amp up like some old school wrestler. Hulk Hogan or Randy “Macho Man” Savage. (I’m showing my age there.) Promotional events will take their toll. I will need to factor in so much recovery time to get through it.
At a time when I want to savour the whole experience, in all likelihood I will feel unwell. I will be a proverbial hot mess. That’s life with Anxiety. And I will do all the things to try to tamp it down as I always do. I will minimize demands, stay at home and reduce stimuli. I will take walks alone, gulp fresh air. I will listen to ambient music and wear a weighted blanket. My efforts will help somewhat. But I know I’m no match for the muscled man.
If you experience anxiety, how does it show up? And what do you do to manage it?
It means I get upset over some things easily (at least when I fail to take my medication), and I procrastinate about a lot of things for fear of getting negative backlash (because social media just lives on that...).
I'm autistic and live with anxiety, so naturally I relate to this.