In 2016, I began treatment for generalized anxiety disorder. In truth, I should’ve gotten treatment years sooner, but I had no idea what was going on with me. I decided to self-medicate with alcohol instead. What caused my anxiety? How did I let things get so bad? As it turns out, there are numerous causes […]
A while ago I noticed that my anxiety levels felt through the roof for no particular reason. My neck and shoulders were in a constant state of stiff or sore. I felt foggy brained and tight in the chest. Several times a day, I had to consciously tell myself to soften my jaw or remove my shoulders from my ears. I would sit down innocently enough to check something on Twitter or Facebook and lose an hour without realizing how or why. My motivation began to deplete. I wasn’t getting anything of value done and still managed to feel like I’d run a marathon at the end of the day.
This time of year, your social media is likely inundating you with lists of the perfect, must-buy gifts for the holiday season. But rather than fall down the rabbit hole of “oh my god I need this,” I thought I would share with you something that will actually improve your life: a weighted blanket.
I was recently scrolling on Twitter (yes, I know) and I came across a tweet that really made me pause.
I wasn’t alone in thinking that this seemingly obvious yet easily overlooked choice was in its own way, a revolutionary act. At the time I saw it, this had been retweeted over 288,000 times. It got me thinking about all the “what ifs” that have kept me up at night, stolen my thoughts throughout the day, and kept me from pursuing things I thought could make my life better.
It’s #WorldMentalHealthDay! So many of us suffer from mental health issues. It’s important that we devote time and resources to understanding mental health, eliminating the stigma associated with it, and work to improve the overall quality of life for anyone who is suffering.
I’m now reaching the five-month mark in my sobriety (and, EEK, pregnancy) and there is one benefit that I am luxuriating in right now: reclaiming my formerly pickled brain.
Even in the thick of pregnancy brain fog, I still find myself in awe of just how much room there is inside this dome that had been previously clouded by a booze, hangover, anxiety cocktail. Towards the end of my drinking days, I noticed that I had difficulty thinking clearly. I was no longer able to tap into my “zone” and produce interesting content when I sat down to write (which was almost never at that point), nor did I possess any motivation to try. I no longer got lost inside complex thoughts. In fact, I was actually starting to forget things regularly. I would have to write everything down because I was incapable of remembering something in the short term for longer than a few minutes. We often laugh about moments when we walk into a room and have no idea why we came in there, but that was becoming my normal. It didn’t scare me necessarily, at least, not as much as it should have. Instead, it just made me more depressed. Whoever “I” was, whatever construct of self I held previously, was slowly vanishing.