When Feelings Attack
It isn't a good day.
I accomplished tasks yesterday. I did laundry, wrapped some gifts, took a nap. After that, I sang for three hours at Community Chorus rehearsal. All of this should add up to Self Care Susie, Queen of Calm. Instead, my anxiety is so high I can feel it in my head, shoulders, and lungs. I’m making weird mistakes and snapping at people. I asked the office to call over the loudspeaker for a student who was sitting in my room already.
Anxiety is not an everyday part of my life. I am on an antidepressant for my Mal de Debarquement, but I don’t have any sort of mental health diagnosis. I am fully aware that all humans encounter feelings of anxiety and depression at various times in our lives. What is currently happening to my mind and body is normal, is ok, is going to pass. Don’t worry, Susie, you’re fine.
Why is my heart pounding? Why can’t I breathe normally?
Raise your hand if you feel guilty when you have a down day/week/month/year: how many people do you know that have so much more on their plates than you do? I have been advised in times past that listing my blessings can help when I’m feeling hopelessness and despair, but I find that can also pile on the shame when my anxiety doesn’t go away. We all know that the guilt and shame are unfounded, that we can’t compare worries and stress. However, hearing that one of our students is sleeping in a garage while I’m worrying about medical paperwork (for example) makes me feel about an inch tall.
I think that a sizable chunk of this reaction is a culmination of recent blows to my self-worth: advocating daily for a fair teacher contract when the school board refuses to come to the negotiating table and doesn’t even mention us at school board meetings has me feeling undervalued and invisible. I lost out on a solo (and I know my wonderful director reads this and he should not for one minute feel bad — this is all me). My daughter is struggling and blames me, and it is hard not to believe her (she reads this too but that’s probably good).
Last night, I told a group of friends a funny story about my friend, Jess. I prefaced it with, “This is going to sound sad, but it isn’t.” I proceeded to tell them about the ridiculous number of chapsticks we found around her house after she died. Jess loved a particular, quite pricey brand from her local co-op, but she had a tendency to lose them (brain tumor). Her mom and dad must have found at least 10 of those things in various locations (our friend Maira thinks it might be closer to a couple dozen!). My friends laughed, as I had wanted them to. But last night I dreamed of Jess. I also dreamed of our old house and other losses. I woke up feeling bereft.
Ironically, I’ve noticed that I’m feeling more of the “Christmas spirit” than I have in the past couple of years. Cutting a tree with my family brought joy and anticipation, instead of dread of decorating. Singing at a holiday concert warmed my heart. I’ve been thrilling at the beautiful lights and decorations going up around the community. I’ve even ordered ridiculous Christmas-themed pantsuits to wear with my teammates at school. Why is my excitement coming with a side of panic?! That seems completely unfair.
Today, I chose to talk about it. Instead of only telling my husband how I was feeling, I also told my teammates. I braved the shame and said it out loud (or at least, over text). I wrote it down here. Although I am still feeling the tightness in my chest and am on the verge of tears, I can take a deep breath. There is something akin to consolation in confession — misery loves company? I have managed to gather humans around me who say things like, “Susie, give yourself some grace. You don’t deserve to feel this way. You are an amazing mom, friend, teacher, and person. ❤️❤️” (She said a whole lot of other smart things, too.)
It feels risky, this confession. I feel vulnerable. It feels particularly dangerous to talk about the effect that contract negotiations are having on my emotional state. It feels unprofessional, in a way. I have long received the message that women are perceived as “too emotional,” and that is a weakness and a reason we are valued less than men in the workplace and in positions of leadership. I am so over this. I am through pretending that it doesn’t bother me when I am treated as less-than because of my sex or my profession. I will not lie and say I’m not hurt and offended by being ignored or snubbed with no explanation. It is disingenuous of me to represent myself as a teacher of children (my own and others) while hiding natural, beautiful, and powerful parts of myself.
I have a plan. I’m going to excuse myself from extra-curricular obligations tonight. I’m going to play cribbage with Dan before he makes dinner. I’m going to self-medicate, and we’re going to start Season 2 of The Bear. I’m going to read out loud the next chapter of the Ben Franklin biography. I’d never choose to read it on my own and Dan falls asleep if he reads it to himself so this works out great! I’ll go to sleep and know that I will probably feel better tomorrow.
Thank you for reading, and for tacitly agreeing to be a form of therapy for me.
Love, Susie
Thank you for sharing. It is easy to feel guilty about these feelings, but not helpful. I very much identify with that guilt (sometimes I joke that it’s a result of my Catholic upbringing but I think it’s much deeper than that). You can’t always control the way you feel, just how you express snd deal with it, which you know and looks like you’re doing beautifully. I made a call to set up therapy a couple years ago and sobbed after I got off the phone, a mix of denial/acceptance that I needed anything extra, shame and guilt about knowing that I have an amazing life- but if you can find ways to help and care for yourself it generally seems to help anyone you’re involved with. Also, great job acknowledging those events and things that have brought you joy, peace, something positive. Brain science says that practicing gratitude helps with outlook and helps us be present.
I have been following your journey in negotiations. I have to say with trepidation and anxiety. I have ptsd from my time as a union president and lead negotiator. I almost quit teaching. I went to therapy because a coworker in the new job I took basically forced me into it. I wouldn’t have gone on my own. I needed it desperately. If you are not already please find a therapist. It is soul sucking. Just writing this I had to stop and take deep breathes because my heart was racing and I was breathing shallowly. If you need someone to talk to about this I am available. I have fought through. I learned how to take a deep breath and remind myself of all of the good I have done in my 24 years of teaching. You are not alone.