S.B.

I am the child of an alcoholic, abusive father. My father never physically hit me, but I regularly witnessed him beat, yell at, and threaten my mother growing up. Many of my first memories involve being afraid for my mom, or feeling the need to be the peacekeeper for my family so he wouldn’t get explode and hurt her. My parents divorced when I was 8 years old, with him eventually remarrying and having more children. My sibling and I still had to visit him regularly and talk to him on the phone almost daily until we were in late high school. Every time I spoke to or saw him, I felt the need to walk on eggshells. I had to be careful I didn’t say anything in a tone he wouldn’t like, or forget to say “I love you Daddy” at the end of every phone call, or say anything too positive about my mother, or to smile enough; the list went on. Interacting with my father was continually the high stress point in my mostly low stress childhood after my parents’ separation. 

It was always easy for close friends throughout my life to ask me “Why don’t you just stop talking to him?” Eventually at 20 years old, I did stop talking to him for the most part, but this question has been something I have struggled with most of my teen years and adult life. The bottom line was I was afraid of my father, but I loved him and wanted him to be happy. And I have always felt guilty for that confliction.

I suppose understandably so, I had always been an anxious kid growing up. I became a people-pleaser. I wanted to make the people in my life happy, no matter what the cost was for myself. This got worse as I got older, especially when I started dating. All the boyfriends I’ve had have been very unlike my father in the sense that they were far from abusive men. I never worried about any of them hitting me, most would never even raise their voices at me at all during an argument. But I became a codependent with every man I’ve ever been with; I was willing to do anything to make his life easier or make him happy, even if it meant neglecting my own needs or wants. They became surrogate targets for my anxiety, where any slight tone change had me worrying that I had done something wrong, any canceling of plans we had made had me thinking they didn’t want to be with me anymore. 

Almost two years ago, I was dealing with several stressful situations, and many aspects of my life felt uncertain and unstable. My anxiety became a daily battle for me, where much of the day my chest was tight and breathing was difficult, my brain was trying to convince me that my world was falling apart and that no one cared about me. I was taking any little thing I said or did and worrying for days that I messed everything up because of it. Some days I couldn’t even leave the house. I was sleeping too much and eating too little. It started damaging my relationships with friends and my boyfriend. Life was turning into something I didn’t want a part of anymore. 

I never shared any of this on my social media, because I had always felt like talking about my anxiety with people I was not really close to would seem like I was just looking for attention. I also didn’t think anybody would care. Any time I would even talk about my anxiety with people close to me, I became frustrated because I felt like it sounded stupid and I could never think of the words to describe how bad it truly was. If I couldn’t even feel comfortable discussing this with my close friends and family, I definitely wasn’t about to post it on my social media for the world to judge me.

After months of living this way, a day came where I knew I was walking a thin line of losing all the close people in my life. They had tried to be there for me the best they could, but I was choosing to not deal with my deteriorating mental health, and it was only getting worse, and this was pushing them out of my life. This realization was a turning point for me.

That same day, I spent several hours researching general techniques and advice for anxiety management and coping-skills development. I started using small tools I used to think were silly to help gain control back over myself, like counting several cleansing breaths, using calming essential oils, being outside more, and so on. They started to work, and I felt myself beginning to feel like I was the one in charge of my life, not my anxiety. This made me seek out therapy to further gain control over my life and mental health. 

I went to therapy for only 3 months, but it changed me. I was able to associate my childhood trauma with my adult anxiety disorder. I was able to connect my fears of abandonment to toxic behavior I had been engaging in. I realized the extent of my codependency in romantic relationships, and how it was an unhealthy attribute for the both of us. Talking out all of these things with somebody really helped me see what I needed to change in order to become a healthier, happier person. I learned coping mechanisms for when my anxiety starts to creep up on me to limit the extremity of it. I learned how to tap into the logical voice in my head when I begin to panic to remind myself that people love me and aren’t going to leave me over a small interaction. 

People are allowed to be angry with me. People are allowed to not want to be around me all the time. People are allowed to have their own stresses that have nothing to do with me. And it doesn’t mean they are going to walk out of my life. The development of that voice reminding me of these things was the biggest turning point for me because it allowed me to then set my own boundaries in relationships. I no longer just do and accept whatever I think will make the other person happy. I value my own needs and wants equally to theirs. And this has resulted in much healthier, happier relationships on both ends. 

I ended up posting on my social media accounts a summarized version of my fight against anxiety after I came this far. I was met with a lot of support from others who have gone through their own battles with mental health, or have known people who have. However, I wish I would have shared my story while I was in the midst of it. Maybe I would have gotten support from people who understand what I went through, and maybe could have recovered sooner and easier. In sharing this story, I’m hoping others will realize it is okay to reach out to your general network for help. Everyone has something they are going through, and our overcoming those things would be so much easier if we were all open and honest about them, instead of being judgmental or afraid.

I still have a long way to go in maintaining good mental health, and some days are harder than others. But I’ve learned that I am more than those hard days. I am more than my trauma. I am more than my relationship with my father. I am more than someone afraid of being alone. I am more than anxiety. And even on my hardest days, I know I am strong enough to overcome them.

I wish I could go back to who I was two years ago who hardly wanted to live because I felt controlled by my anxiety, and back to the little girl who felt terrified and trapped by her relationship with her father. I would tell them they will become this woman who is not controlled by anything; a woman who is more than capable of handling absolutely everything thrown her way. You’ve got this, girl.