Shit Storm

When I was little, I had many friends who were boys. Then when I hit puberty, my insecurity (combined with the insecurity of most of the boys in my social group) made it very difficult to interact with the opposite sex. I don't remember a time when I knew of a boy who "liked" me after about the age of eight.

After I graduated from high school, I and a bunch of my church friends went on a week-long senior trip. One of the boys I'd had a crush on was part of the group. Two days into the trip, I suddenly found that I couldn't eat. I was anxious, and it all revolved around this one boy. I was madly in love with him, and yet being around him made me sick.

This happened again when I was acting in a show. In this case I wasn't actually falling for the actor I played opposite, nor was the relationship in the show a romantic one, but something about the intimacy of the emotions and having to share that with a man was extremely difficult for me. On rehearsal days, I found it nearly impossible to eat. The actor was one of the nicest people I met, and yet I could barely be near him.

After that point, although I had friends who were guys, and although my social set increased as I became more involved in community theatre, I never expressed interest in a guy - and none did in me. Finally, after about the age of 25, I started getting asked out. I think I'd had enough time interacting with a more varied group of friends and my confidence had increased. However, going on dates became the new biggest challenge for me.

Several times I agreed and then backed out. Oftentimes I would flirt and seem interested, and then back way the fuck up when it looked like the feelings were reciprocated. There was always a feeling that I was about to make a huge mistake, or that the guy in question was about to make himself vulnerable in a way that didn't sit right with me.

I finally managed to go out with the same guy for two dates. But even though he was really sweet, being around him made me terrified. I was brave enough to call him and tell him "it's not you, it's me" (I was being honest here, and didn't realize this was an excuse a lot of people made when they weren't interested).

THEN...there was an actor in a show I was directing. He was older, but a big thing that attracted me to him was how much everyone else wanted him (and yet he was interested in me! Suck it, bitches!). Finally one night after rehearsal he kissed me. I'd never been kissed. I was excited, but I knew in the back of mind that things were gonna really spiral downward. And boy they did.

That night I was able to fall asleep. But after a few hours, I woke with a start. My heart was racing, and I was dry-heaving. Waves of nausea would pass through my body, and I could feel every moment of the wave from the beginning to when they passed through my fingertips (I felt the nausea even in my fingertips, I kid you not). In the middle of the night, I had no choice but to go outside and walk through the neighborhood, taking deep breaths and gagging. The next day I could barely take little sips of water, and I knew something was terribly wrong with me.

After a week, I went to a doctor. He asked me many questions, many that had to do with my family and my parents. He suggested I attend a support group called "Adult Children of Alcoholics and Dysfunctional Parents (ACA)", as he felt there was a link between my anxiety and my family's history of abuse and alcoholism (none overtly with my parents, but they'd both experienced it in their own families). He also prescribed not one, but THREE different medications: one for panic attacks, one for insomnia, and one for anxiety. I definitely needed all of them.

Once I got that settled, I was able to have a conversation with the guy who kissed me. We managed to start going out, though it was a difficult process. On our first date, I had to set up several safeguards to ensure I wouldn't back out, and to ensure we didn't do anything that might cause a panic attack: I gave him my phone number, but he was only allowed to call me if he got lost (all of our communication so far was via facebook messenger) - oh, and he picked me up so that I couldn't just decide not to go there. Our date consisted of literally just walking outside. No eating, no drinks. And mind you, this was in December, so it was pretty cold. I survived the first date, although he was stupid and tried to kiss me again (he had his own issues, which I'll cover in a sec).

My anxiety continued for several months. It got easier, but didn't resolve entirely. I lost 15 pounds, which is a lot for someone of my size. Honestly, there were a lot of good battles I fought and won, but it was horrible, too.

So I dated this guy for two years. Soon after we started dating, I found out that he struggled with sexual addiction. Our relationship was tumultuous and extremely painful. There were a lot of breaks (initiated by him) and several times during those breaks where he met with and/or slept with other women. He was broken, hopeless, and sad, and he used that. I forgave him more times than I could count, and always thought that I was the one person who was gonna be there for him when no one else had been. I was terribly unhappy, but I didn't even realize it. I went to a support group during this time for partners of sex addicts - I was focused on his recovery, and didn't realize I was the one who needed a recovery of my own. Finally I was able to break it off with him. It was a messy break-up, but it was an empowering experience for me. I realized then that no matter what my feelings, I could do what I had to do. That was huge for me.

The next year I made a lot of relationship choices, some of which I'm not proud of, but they are part of the journey. I tried casual sex, and it caused the same horrible anxiety I'd experienced before. I was still on some meds, and I definitely still needed them.

Then I met another guy. He was much younger, and seemed charming and adventurous. And BOY, was he toxic as ever. He tore me down every chance he could get. One good thing he did was encourage me to get off of my meds. And normally I'd say that this is a TERRIBLE idea, but actually in my case I was ready for it. I was still dealing with anxiety, but I had tools to help me that didn't involve medicating. Our relationship lasted less than a year. Near the end, I was fantasizing about cutting myself. It's the first time in my life I understood what "hurting the outside to release the pain inside" actually meant. Thankfully I made a better decision and broke up with him. He'd mentioned that I needed to "get my shit together", and he was exactly right. So I did by breaking up with him, and FINALLY started attending ACA.

For me, ACA was the key (it won't be for everybody, but it definitely was for me). It's a twelve-step program, and the biggest thing I've learned from it is that I have no control over others, only myself. I also learned about shame, and about my very low sense of self-worth, and about how I let others treat me, and how I learned those things from my parents growing up.

The one thing I've never been able to figure out is if I experienced trauma (specifically sexual trauma) when I was a child. Because honestly, that would explain the anxiety and the panic attacks. I was literally responding to a guys' interest the way an abused animal would respond to human contact. Everything in my body was telling me to run, all of the red flags were waving. But not always for the right reasons, ya know? (Although my exes weren't safe people, my first one even being predatory, and I think a small part of me realized that.) My body was physically rejecting any feelings I was having. The gagging, the dry-heaving, was literally my body trying to expel those feelings from within. It was terrifying.

I don't think this story has a moral. I can't give you the "five steps to recovery". All I can say is, my story can't be unusual. I think there are a lot of people out there who can identify with my experience. There are a lot of people who come from parents who have their own set of issues (in fact, I'd be hard-pressed to find someone with perfect parents). But what I can tell you is, there's always options. There's always people, and support groups, and another step forward out of whatever prison you're in.

After about six months working recovery in ACA, I met a guy. I'd been paying attention to how people I met made me feel: did they make me feel like I had to "perform" (and I'm very skilled at being whatever people need me to be in order to be accepted)? Were they insecure in a way that required me to BE for them what they couldn't be for themselves?

Anyhow, this guy didn't make me feel like I had to be anything other than me. He was ok with him, so he was ok with me. I liked him immediately. But the program I was working encouraged us to avoid romantic relationships for at least a year to really get some good recovery under our belts first. SO I did something un-characteristic, and didn't rush into a relationship with him, but waited. For the first time in my life, I felt certain that if a relationship with this guy was meant to be, then it would happen when the time was right.

And guess what? It did. I saw him again almost a year after I'd begun recovery. And then I asked him out. And the rest is history. Because we dated for over a year (with no ups and downs, no hot then cold, no abuse - just consistent love and care), and then we got a place together, and then we got engaged, and now we're married and have two kittens. Nothing is ever perfect, and I've had my share of anxiety and irrational thoughts. But I have tools to use, and I know where these thoughts are coming from. I haven't had to get back on meds, and I've experienced very little anxiety that led to loss of appetite or panic attacks.

I have no guarantee that I'll never struggle with it again. And I still think there's more to my past that I have yet to discover, which is why I'm trying to get back in to see a therapist. But I think I can say with confidence that, even though life is a bit of a shit storm, you're not constantly at its mercy. You can have more power, more recovery, and more hope than you think right now.