In a weird way, it’s a good thing you have anxiety so that you can recognize when it’s happening.
I’m paraphrasing above, but I had that conversation with a mental health professional about my child. I’ve been mulling over writing about this, because its part my story and part not my story. But the more I think about it, the more I want to normalize this.
I have anxiety. I have panic attacks. I’ve had bouts of depression. I didn’t fully understand all of this and what I’d been living with most of my life until my thirties. Imagine, living most of your life, in that state, and just accepting it, struggling, and not always understanding why your brain functioned the way it did. I lived in my own head a lot.
Then, I hit bottom. It was ugly. It wasn’t glamourous. It wasn’t fun. Then I sought help. My loved ones begged me to. They staged a impromptu intervention. They demanded I do something to save myself. Talk therapy. CBT therapy. Meditation. Holistic medicine. Acupuncture. And finally, after exhausting all of those and only seeing minor improvement, I made the tough choice to go on a regular anxiety medication.
My life has improved immensely. It was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made in my life. I wish I’d done it sooner. I may need to stay on it for the foreseeable future, or maybe not. Who knows. But I do know, I like me with balanced brain chemicals. I love me with balanced brain chemicals.
That’s my story in a brief nutshell. Without the nitty gritty details. I’m not here to talk about me so much though. Anxiety and depression, it can be and often is hereditary. So here we are, me a mom, and seeing this manifest in one of my children.
Have you ever watched your child have a panic attack? Not a tantrum, but a genuine panic attack. It’s gut wrenching. I’ve seen my child believe that their legs cannot work because their brain is lying to them in the middle of a panic attack.
I’ve seen my child struggle with not being able to stop their obsessive worrying thoughts. I’ve tried to talk my child down from the cycle of viscous thoughts that they’re not good enough, smart enough, perfect enough.
I’ve seen my child be me. And I hate it. It’s grossly uncomfortable. It makes me mad at myself. In this circumstance, I hate that I gave something to my child. If I could absorb all of their anxiety and panic, I would add to my own in a heartbeat.
And now, I’m seeking guidance for my child. Working with a counselor to provide my amazing child with the tools they need to challenge their own brain when these moments arrive. Not with medication, but cognitive tools and talking through any issues or worries. We have a plan. We have a team.
I’m going to leave it at that, it’s not entirely my story, only a little bit mine. But I wanted to write about it because, there is nothing wrong with me or my child. There is nothing wrong with being open and honest that human experience these issues.
Let’s talk facts:
- Anxiety affects 18.1% of the population 18 years and over. That’s around 40 million adults.
- Anxiety affects 1 in 8 children. 80% of children with an anxiety disorder go untreated.
This makes my jaw hit the floor. I was one of those children. Not by any fault of my parents. I internalized a lot. Confused as to what was happening or why I felt the way I did, maybe a little embarrassed, but not understanding things. And, in all honesty, mental health is becoming more common to talk about today, not twenty years ago. I don’t even think I knew what the word anxiety meant when I was in my formative years. Certainly, not the symptoms.
But, I see it in my child. I know what they are experiencing. If you have anxiety, depression, or panic attacks, sometimes it’s easier to see in other people. I won’t say always, but when it’s your child and you know what you’ve gone through, and you look at your child unable to manage what’s happening in their brain, well, for me, it was clear.
I suggest this: Let’s talk about childhood anxiety. Let’s talk about childhood mental health. Let’s keep that conversation open and judgement free. Let’s start to understand that, yes, we are talking about adult mental health, but we need to talk about the kids too. And to seek help when and if we notice something.
I have told my child that I suffer from this too. That I know what they’re going through. That sometimes my brain doesn’t turn off either. And that means, I’m always here for them to talk to. That I can and will listen. That I know what a panic attack feels like and how scary it is. I’m just, honest about it.
I was told today that Early Intervention is actually one of the best ways to tackle this. And can make a lifelong difference. So maybe, understanding that children also experience mental health struggles, we can change the world and make it a little easier for them to live life to its fullest.
I thought about my low point in life, when I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to wake up at all or if it was worth it to keep going. Then I look at my child and think, “I never want my child to get to that point.”
I will fight for my child. I will give my child the tools to battle this today, tomorrow, and twenty years from now.
Its easy to say if you need to talk, reach out! But one thing I’ve learned from experience is that anxiety and depression force you to live in your own head, and reaching out is often the last thing you consider.
So, I plea with readers and loved ones, if you notice something about someone you love, reach out to them! Reach out to mental health professionals. The onus might be on those that love people with mental health battles. You might need to have an impromptu intervention at a kitchen table at seven pm at night. It might be the push your loved one needs, even if they don’t realize it.
Reference: https://adaa.org/
Nicole M. VandeBoom 