Anxiety, anxiety go away...and don't come back another day

By Lisa A. Eramo

Anxiety.

Just the sound of the word makes my heart race. Anx--i--ety. Anx. Angst. I. Anxiousness.

Anxiety disorders are the most common mental illness in the U.S., affecting 40 million adults in the United States age 18 and older (18.1% of U.S. population).

Think this statistic is scary? Well, it is. And unfortunately, I'm one who suffers with the condition. Put me in front of a group of people and tell me to give a presentation, and my palms sweat, my stomach does flip flops, and I feel as though the sky could fall at any minute. I obssess for weeks in advance, sometimes not being able to sleep for several nights in a row. And it's not only limited to the public speaking venue--it has social implications as well. Tell me to make small talk, and I'd honestly rather be standing over a 500 degree stove flipping burgers in the middle of summer...in Florida...in my winter coat...while standing on my head. Get the picture?

The first time I started talking about social anxiety, I remember that it felt good to have a "label" to put to what I was feeling. It didn't solve the problem, but it was reassuring to be able to say, "oh, it's just the social anxiety at play..." or "it's not me, it's the anxiety...and I'm getting help for it." I "talked" about social anxiety for a long time without ever really doing anything about it. I felt like a broken record, talking in circles until I was dizzy and my therapist was practically falling asleep on me (no lie...it really did happen).

One year and one therapist later, along came cognitive behavior therapy. My therapist (who managed to stay awake, by the way) gave me several exercises to try and identify my irrational thoughts and recognize that they were just that--irrational. This tactic seemed to work for a while, but gradually, those scary irrational thoughts kept creeping in.

Enter the happy pill...Celexa, to be exact. I'll never forget the day I filled the prescription. I wondered whether a little pill smaller than the size of my finger nail (which, by the way, was pretty small considering my anxiety had caused me to bite them all off!) actually help me? That's what was going through my head as I help the pill up to the light for closer examination. Once I swallowed the pill, there was no turning back. Whatever horrible side effects were written on the side of the bottle could be activated at any time. All of this for the sake of happiness and sanity?

Truth be told, the pill did work its small miracles. I felt better about myself, more comfortable in social situations, and far less anxious. I used to be embarressed and ashamed to talk about the fact that I have social anxiety. I think there is a stigma surrounding any type of anxiety or depression. With an estimated 15million sufferers of social anxiety disorder, it should almost be as normalized as the common cold.

These days, I'm past the point of feeling badly for my social anxiety. With time, it has gotten better, and I am no longer on the pill. When I'm feeling anxious, I let myself feel that way. Eventually, the feeling will subside. Deep breath, and I'm fine.