So I delayed doing this prompt for a while because it's actually a personal answer. Wondering what was behind a closed door is one of the things that helped me realize my anxiety was out of control. If reading about anxiety is going to be triggering for you, then please stop reading now (and trust me,I will understand).
Back in my previous job, my cubicle was right by my boss's office. Now, overall, this was nice and convenient. I could easily pop over with a question and vice versa. It also facilitated casual chatting.
However, it also facilitated my anxiety brain running amok. Mostly, my boss had his door open--even when he was on a phone call. So when he closed his door, I knew he really needed privacy. So why would my boss need privacy? Especially from me?
Now, my medicated brain can rattle off a bunch of reasons including he's on a personal phone call, he's on a medical call, and he simply wanted some peace and quiet. However, it was my unmedicated brain at work. So, instead, I became convinced that I was getting fired. Surely, I thought, that the only reason he would need privacy from me is if he was talking about me. And surely the only reason he would be talking about me is that he was firing me.
These thoughts caused me to panic constantly. I would be having a low grade (or maybe high grade, I guess I'm not sure what the scale is) anxiety attack for days on end. It would only be until the end of the week when Friday had passed (because surely I would get fired on a Friday) that I would calm down.
But then, at some point, my boss would close his door again and the whole process would start over.
Now I don't share this story for people to feel bad for past me. Past me survived and current me is medicated, in therapy, and okay. I share this story more to help people better understand me. Before I was on medication, this is how my brain worked. Any minor thing could send me into a tailspin that could last for days and, on rare occasions, weeks. I would feel adrenaline pumping through me all the time, my mind would race, I would be jittery, I would have an impending sense of doom, and I often lost a lot of sleep. Now I could slap on a smile and keep all of my symptoms under wraps for the most part so people wouldn't notice, but I'm sure some people did. It might've just appeared like work stress or normal twenties life stress, but was something much more invasive and pervasive.
Now the fear of closed doors wasn't the final straw--though I wish it could've been. The final straw came when I realized I had gone at least two weeks straight crying every day. I'm sorry if that's hard to read, but I'm trying to be truthful in this blog and that is the truth.
I hope sharing this is okay with everyone. I'm really doing a lot better now (thanks to medication and therapy) and I no longer fear closed doors. Kimi, I doubt this is what you had in mind when you wrote this prompt, but I hope I did the prompt some justice.
I hope if you are reading this and fear locked doors that you will reach out for some help. I'm happy to help you look for resources or talk to you more about my experiences with therapy and medication (or with anxiety in general).
(Prompt by Kimisha Cassidy)
Comments
Post a Comment