Does Your Anxiety Get Better or Worse With Time?

When I was 21 years old I joined AmeriCorps in a different state where I spent a year doing things like white water rafting and taking teenagers on a prison experience trip. 

When I was 23 I took a 3-day long bus trip out to California to see my brother, and then took another 3-day long bus trip home, all by myself. 

When I was 34 I took that same trip, only by train. 

I had anxiety back then but it wasn't debilitating. I needed help but I could do things. And since I was used to dealing with anxiety with little everyday things like going to the grocery store, and going to work, I felt like if I was going to be anxious anyways I might as well have a new experiences. (This is the same way I have of thinking that I might as well have cats, even though I'm allergic to them, because I already have to take allergy medicine from my environmental allergies. If the world's going to try to kill me anyways, I might as well have a cat.) 

Now I'm 46 and it's a huge challenge for me to go to the grocery store on my own. I don't go to church because I just can't manage to do it on my own. The idea of having a job again makes my blood pressure plummet in fear.

Part of it is because when I was young, I thought anxiety was just a chemical reaction in my brain. But things really did happen and things really did go wrong. With every friendship that went downhill, I talked to fewer people. With every job that ended in disaster, I had less confidence. With every weird look I got when I was out in public, I got more shy. With every news story about active shooters in public places, I got more afraid.

I miss that part of me that still believed my autism was just a small obstacle to overcome. I miss that part of me that still thought I could do anything.

The True Story of How Angel Got Her Name

 

Usually when people ask how I got the name Angel, I just say it's an old nickname given to me by old friends in Chicago.

But here's the real story. 

I, at 18 or 19 years old, was not yet diagnosed with autism. However I had known for my entire life... At least for as long as I have had clear and conscious thoughts... That something was wrong with me. Something was different about me. I used to wonder if when I got older something in my brain would snap into place and I would feel like I belonged and like I was doing the right thing. But it never happened. 

Then I discovered this author named Doreen virtue. She wrote about angels. She said that some people were actually angels incarnated on earth. One of the ways you could tell that you were an incarnate angel was if you were more sensitive than others and had just more trouble fitting in with the human population.

As autistic people tend to do, I got obsessed with Doreen Virtue, and I read all her books. I was convinced that maybe I was not just a loser and a failure after all. Maybe I was actually an incarnate angel. 

The idea made me braver. When I was nervous or scared, I reminded myself that I was really an angel with invisible wings and an invisible halo. If people treated me badly, they'd find out later that they had treated an angel poorly. I loved the quote from the Bible, "be not afraid to entertain strangers, for many have entertained angels unaware."

Sometimes when I confided in people that I thought I could be an angel, they liked the idea, and they would sometimes call me "angel," just as a noun. The way somebody might call a friend "girl," like "What's up, girl?" They would call me "àngel." I liked it because it reminded me of the TV show"Touched By An Angel," where Tess sometimes called Monica "angel girl." 

For someone who has been yelled at, ridiculed and belittled by people at home, school, work, and everywhere you ever set foot, the sound of your own name can break your spirit. Since early childhood I'd been called Nicki, and never my given name Nichole. Being called Nichole already graded on my nerves because It usually meant that the person talking to me not only didn't know me, but wasn't really interested in knowing me. For instance, a receptionist in a doctor's office. I didn't really feel any connection to that name. 

On the other hand, the name Nicki had been uttered by so many people with such contempt, It was like people were vomiting it when they said it. "Nicki." What had probably been a cute name for a sweet toddler was now a name loaded with disappointment, anger, and ridicule. 

But I like being called "angel." So I started calling myself "angel" when I talked to myself in my head. Which I do a lot. And eventually I found myself introducing myself as Angel, now using the word as a proper noun. 

But I couldn't bring myself to give up the name "Nicki" completely. It's a name my parents gave me when they still had hopes and dreams for me. I didn't want to take it away from them. So I kept it as part of my name, although I almost exclusively introduce myself as Angel now. 

People sometimes ask which one I prefer. I usually say I don't mind either one, because I'm nothing if not accommodating. 

In my head I call myself Angel because it lets me be who I really am, rather than the ghost of how other people saw me. Angel is strong. Angel is brave. Angel has people who love her. And that is whoI want to be.