Onward to Bravery

My Quest to Conquer Anxiety

The Breakdown

In September of 2021, I rode my bike to work like normal. I placed my lunch in the refrigerator and went down to the gym to work out and shower, and then I headed back upstairs to start my work day. I took a few calls and did a few tasks. I answered a few emails and I spoke with a coworker about something. Then, out of nowhere, I needed to step away. I didn't know what was happening, but I was short of breath and I knew I was about to collapse. I went to the nearby bathroom, which was luckily a single-occupancy restroom. Once I locked the door I fell to the floor pathetically. And I wept. I was hyperventilating while streams of tears and snot continuously flowed down my face. I can't tell you how many times I wiped my face with toilet paper, nor can I tell you how long I was in there. A long time. I had to wait until my body was able to calm itself, but that was seemingly getting further and further away. But eventually, it passed. The tears didn't, but I was able to somewhat catch my breath. For a while there it was touch and go. I had never had this happen to me before, so I was berating myself: Why can't you calm down? What's the problem? Nothing. Literally. Nothing was the problem, so stop making a big deal out of it. Just stop. But that made it worse because it wasn't something I could control. I couldn't "just stop" as I kept telling myself to do, so it was a seemingly endless cycle. When I came out of the bathroom, I had a couple of tissues that I used to hide my reddened face from my coworkers while I sent my boss a message to tell him I needed to go home for the day. Then, I texted my wife to ask her to come and pick me up. Why? Because I just had my first panic attack.

A Realization

I never understood anxiety and I am not sure I do yet. But I do know the experience of it. It's terrible. However, before I was able to deal with my anxiety, I first had to deal with a lot of different realizations about my situation. That fateful day of my first panic attack was the first of many days in which I realized that I needed to address certain things about myself and my life. In the past, I disregarded anxiety as something wimps deal with. It sounds terrible, but the self-talk I was giving myself in the bathroom was what I thought: everything is a choice. Well, yes and no. Anxiety takes the form of a tragedy: once it has reached its peak, the anxiety boulder is going to roll down the hill and smash everything in its path, no matter what. At that point, it's too late. Decisions have already been made that prevent it from happening, there is no longer a choice; there is no undoing what has been done. At that point, you have to let it ride its course. To avoid the peak though, there are choices that you can make to prevent it from getting to the point where everything is spilling over the edge.

To be clear, all my insights are hindsight. I didn't know any of this from the get-go. That summer, while I was riding my bike to work because we only had one car, all I knew was that every day when I got to work I thought I was going to throw up. Something in my stomach felt itchy. And a couple of times I did throw up, especially on Saturday mornings when I started at 8 AM. We called it the flood gates, or the storming of Normandy beach. Everyone in the world called in the first hour of the day, while there were only two of us to deal with everything. Customers were upset about the long holds. There was no one to help, no one to reach out to for help. We were alone. The first few Saturdays were fine. Now I realize that they only felt that way because I was still training and nothing was expected of me. But when I finally got a hang of the job and had a good understanding of everything that was going on it started to affect me. So much so that I started to get sick to my stomach at 7:50, 10 minutes before the start of my shift, every Saturday morning. And a couple of times it came up. But the boulder was still being pushed up the hill.

I suppressed everything, maybe too proud to admit that I was dealing with anxiety, more likely unaware that I was dealing with anxiety. I didn't want to feel like a wimp who couldn't handle the pressure of a simple job. Take a phone call. Complete the customer's request. It shouldn't be that hard, right? Well, it was. You may or may not know this, but customers can be mean. They don't like it when they don't get their way. And they yell. And cuss. I was told several times that I was "unhelpful" because what the customer was asking me to do was against company policy, and if I complied then I would lose my job. I could only do so much and I was powerless in these situations. I didn't like that aspect of the job. I wanted to help people. I just couldn't complete the request they were making. But nope, I was the problem for some reason. The boulder was almost at its peak.

So, after roughly a year of all this: take a phone call, get yelled at, be called names, disappoint people, over and over again. Suppressing all of it, keeping the anxiety down. Or trying to not let it affect me. Eventually, I hit a breaking point without realizing it. The anxiety boulder hit the peak and went down the other side, resulting in a full-blown panic attack in the bathroom at work. My wife took me home because there was no way I could ride home and I took the rest of the day to cry and think about what I could change. That's when I concluded that therapy would be good for me.

Therapy and Beyond

I had read this book, Man's Search for Meaning for the first time earlier in the year, so I looked up a "logotherapist near me" and it came back with many therapists, but no one with that distinction - with good reason. I found a good Christian counselor who was able to talk to me, man to man. He reaffirmed me. He challenged my beliefs about myself and taught me better self-talk. But he also told me to quit that job and get a new one. When I was ready. Or stay, if I could handle it. I had a huge decision to make.

We couldn't afford for me to leave yet. But I also knew that if I left, then I would only be running away from my problems. I have been a coward before, and I refuse to be one now. That's when I also got a token. It was expensive. But that was on purpose. Krystal and I spent time picking out the perfect 'courage' ring on Etsy. I went with a ring made by the same store that made my wedding ring, shout out to CavemanBands. I chose a Damascus steel ring. because of the way it's made: layers of steel heated up, pounded into being folded in half, and then stuck back into the furnace. Over and over again. The resulting design is cool, too. But the process is what stuck out to me: the steel is stronger than normal steel because of the hard process it has to go through. Just like me. I need to be stronger than I was by going through the process of hard things. Taking on the challenge. And when anxiety presents itself, I utilize the tools I have to get rid of the boulder before it's able to get to the peak. When I feel the urge to give in to something instead of standing up courageously, I have a ring. I grab it and spin it around my finger. It's worn opposite my wedding ring as another reminder to stay strong in two ways: personally and remember that I have support from my wife no matter what.

These days

It's been many moons since that day in September 2021. I wish I could say that it was the only panic attack I've had or that I have been perfectly able to prevent my anxiety from gaining control over me. But I can't. And that's a good thing. Anxiety, in some ways, can help keep us grounded in the tragic life that we all live. Those moments when we feel our bodies tense up are a warning sign. A warning sign tells us to take a moment, drink some water, and do some self-care.

For most of last year (2023), I worked a job in which I had absolutely no anxiety. It was good for me to take a little time to enjoy life, especially a job, without having to worry about a panic attack. However, the way I got there is another anxiety-ridden story. I became a licensed financial advisor and worked that job for approximately a week and a half(ish). It was the absolute worst time of my life. I had spent a year and a half of my life studying to take exams just to get qualified - and I had to deliver a resignation letter less than two weeks into it. I was embarrassed and scared. I had the same warning as before: a panic attack, this time during church service the day before I resigned. It was that event that made me realize I simply couldn’t do it. Then I found a job working with kids and I loved it. But I noticed something: I also didn’t have any responsibilities. No customers, just 3-year-olds. No responsibility isn’t much living and while I enjoyed the relaxation, it was time to get back on the horse and face my challenges.

Now, I work with teenagers and I am a hiring/training manager. So I have a lot of responsibility. And some of my anxiety is back. But I have safeguards in place to help me manage it. I have a ring to remind me to be brave, even in tough circumstances. I have a wife who reminds me that doing what is right is rarely easy. And if it was, then everybody would do it.

Defeating anxiety is challenging. My story shows that. I struggled with it for months and now years. And now I’m here. It pops up as a reminder that I am still human. But I keep the boulder away from the peak while I rise to the occasion.

We all deal with anxiety. The first step is to recognize it, identify it, and call it out. It’s more difficult to deal with if it’s some mysterious thing lurking in a corner. But if you shed light on it, then it can’t hide so easily. Next, utilize grounding techniques. Recall your mission, recall the quest. Drink some water. Remember your friends who you can trust. Think as rationally as you can. And last, choose. Making a choice is the hardest part because it feels impossible. Let me be clear: anxiety itself is not a choice. Choosing to conquer it is the choice you can make.