Welcome to My Risk

Every sentence you write has already been written by a better writer;

One of a million jibes shouted by a critic I’ve never met, but who has lived with me since childhood. To that creature, I surrendered choice, and succumbed to endless starts and stops every time I dared contemplate what I hope will be a water cooler around which we discuss all things mental health.

Only a half hour before I struck a first key, I twice slammed my laptop shut for fear I’d be accused of having nothing to say. It would be senseless to assume not one of 40 million sufferers of anxiety disorders would benefit from an insight, a strategy, a self-disclosure, or not a single one of 16 million sufferers of Major Depressive Disorder could gain from a hopeful word, a source of information, a community. Only when I wrestled fact and fiction apart did I remember anyone who has lived has something to say, and I’m pretty sure I’ve lived. These callous cognitions stunted creation of this blog until I turned 49 years old. If I believed in myself during any one of ten-thousand yesterdays, I would have taken this risk when I was 39, or 29, or 19. Maybe mine would have been the vanguard mental well-being forum. Someone’s had to be.

You are a fraud.

It’s fortunate I now win some battles with my critic, but I need allies like a therapist who basically demanded I stop whining and get “your ass in the chair and write.” I need allies like anyone who reads this and shares a thought. I don’t pretend to have all the answers, but sometimes a forum such as this is not about answers. Maybe it’s just about comforts gained by knowing

others share our experiences. Everyone has a voice here, and I would love to read fallacies the inner critics of others spew so I may help dispel them. Maybe I will read them in a comments section part of me believes will be ignored. 

Who are you to believe you can help?

Transparency has its place, especially when the intention of writing is to connect and create a haven for thoughts and feelings; a place where judgement is unwelcome, and hope lives in every word. I was diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder in 2006, and Panic Disorder in 2013.  It is no miracle I haven’t suffered a panic attack in the 5 years since my last one rendered me housebound, or that I ignored thoughts of drowning at sea when I boarded a cruise with my devoted wife who deserved a honeymoon. Like so many, I work hard every day to understand symptoms, their genesis, and how to work through or around them until I finally kill them off.

It’s a Risk, and It Will Fail.

I know I am out on a limb by giving this a shot, but this older version of me desires to leave no land undiscovered.  As I continue to grow myself up, I am more accepting of vulnerability than I ever have been. Its previous absence from my life accounts for much of my past angst. Leave too much space between who you are and the pretense that protects you, and anxiety has a space in which to breed.

I do not intend to promote space this as a replacement for psychotherapy. Having been client and clinician for most of my life, I am aware nothing could replace the warmth of eye contact, a supportive nod, spoken word. This is my shot to share, create, and discuss; a risk I take for anyone who reads and responds. I imagine we all have a risk we have been reluctant to take, and I would love to know yours.

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