It sounds strange to say, but the moment I realised I am not special, was a turning point for me.
It’s a mantra I live by now; in fact, I’ve used it more than once in previous posts because these three words are now etched into my mind. Whenever I’m struggling, I remind myself, I am not special.
This concept was introduced to me 8 years ago, when as far as my anxiety and panic attacks go, I was in my worst state. I struggled to leave the house for fear of having a panic attack, even to do little things like go to the bank, or the post office. I would walk to the local store at 9am and wait for the doors to open, because the only time I could bare to be there was when it was almost empty. If I arrived just as the doors were opening, I knew I would be okay. I relied on alcohol in these moments too. You see despite suffering debilitating panic attacks to the point of feeling like I would soon become agoraphobic and become physically incapable of leaving the house, I knew that my 2-year-old daughter who had not been very socialised due to our living situation, needed socialisation. Despite severe discomfort to myself, I forced myself to attend playgroup with other mother’s and children, but to do this, I would down nearly a bottle of wine or a handful of beers before going, just to settle my nerves. Not only this, but I am also guilty of hiding beers in my nappy bag in case I needed a top up. Yes, you heard all of that right. I took my 2-year-old daughter to playgroup, under the influence of alcohol, with beers in the nappy bag.
That probably should have been my rock bottom right there, but trust me, it got much worse – but to stay on track I won’t digress and save those stories for another time.
It was around this time that I got really worried about where I was headed and what I was capable of. Crying on my bed with said 2-year-old playing in her room, I contacted Beyond Blue and made an appointment with a GP. I was prescribed medication that I am still on to this day and commenced an 8-week course on anxiety and panic attacks.
It was this course that exposed me to the fact that I am not special. See whether I wanted to accept it or not, the truth was there is a certain level of self-involvement in anxiety and depressive disorders. Not intentionally, but we are just so consumed with our own struggles, thoughts, emotions, trauma and discomfort with simply living, that we don’t see the bigger picture. In the moment when I was struggling, it felt like I was the only one that felt this way. I’m the only one in the world suffering. I’m the only one that has these problems. I’m the only person to have ever suffered with anxiety and depression. It’s me, me, me.
Nothing can be further from the truth. 9 out of 10 people I know are struggling with or have struggled in the past with some form of anxiety, depression or addiction. We are all more alike than we know.
Later, when I first started this road of sobriety (by the way, I used ‘road’ because I am painfully aware that society now scoffs at the word ‘journey’, but answer me this, what word is better used?), this point was driven into me again. I am not special! When you sit in on AA meetings and listen to person after person talk about their lives, their struggles, their wins and their losses, their traumas, their anxieties, their depression, you realise we are all the same! Everyone is hurting or struggling in one form or another.
Over the last 14 months I have immersed myself in sobriety and mindset books, podcasts, blogs, and I noticed a lot of influential writers, philosophers and psychologists spread the same message, each in their own individual ways.
We are not special.
It might sound harsh, but I interpret it as pulling myself outside of that victim mentality mindset, accepting the things I can not change, and moving forward with my life in a healthy positive way. Before I stopped drinking, I was able to come up with a million reasons why I needed to drink.
“I work so hard; I deserve to drink after work” – Guess what? Lots of people work hard
“I have anxiety. Every day is a struggle. If people knew how hard life is for me, they wouldn’t blame me” – Guess what? Lots of people have anxiety and depression
“I’m a single working mother; I don’t have any help” – Guess what? There are lots of single working mothers. Some with more children. Some with more expenses. Some with lower pay.
“Terrible things happened when I was younger” – Guess what? Everyone has terrible stories.
Believe me, these can keep going.
Accepting that life sucks, people suck, bad things happen that are not my fault, but that my own happiness is my responsibility, has led this road of sobriety.
I’m proud to say, I’m not special.
Comments