How Do You Feel About the New Year?

New year. Fresh start. Resolutions. Hmmm. It seems this is the time of year when people are setting goals, planning, and looking forward. For me, it can be a time of sadness. I tend to look at the year that has passed. It makes me feel I'm running out of time to accomplish what I want to do, so I'm overwhelmed by all I didn't get done. Then, focusing on new goals becomes exhausting. And, there I go again, with the ruts in my brain looking at the gloomy side of things. So, what can I do to cope with the anxiety this thinking creates?

After looking through my mental box of tips and tools, I came up with a plan to cope with my new year's anxiety. I decided to live in the present. Anxiety (depression, too) can be caused by living in the past or worrying about the future. So, when I have thoughts about the things I didn't accomplish, I can put each thought on a leaf and let it float down the river and out of my head, figuratively speaking. When I start to worry about how I'll get new things done, I can remind myself of this quote from Thomas Jefferson. "How much pain they have cost us, the evils which have never happened." I can get up from my wall of worry and over-thinking and get busy with a simple task. Almost every time I focus on a task, I notice my anxiety is less, or even goes away, because it's very hard to think about two things at once. (Side note-that's why multi-tasking is actually almost impossible.)

I'm already feeling better, because now I have a plan. A very simple plan that is SMART. Strategic, measurable, actionable, relevant, and timed, as all good plans should be!

I'd love to know how you're coping with the coming New Year. Do you have a plan? How do you feel? I hope to see some comments, and if you have any tools that work for you, please include those, too!

Rather than saying 'Happy New Year," I think I'll say to my readers, "Here's to a new year that's right for you, with less anxiety and more peace."

Happy Holidays???

These days the pages of social media are filled with posts and pictures of holiday beauty, merriment, family, and faith. Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, Google +...The list goes on. If you're looking at them, or even just reading good old-fashioned holiday cards or the ubiquitous family newsletter that's often sent this time of year, it may look like everyone's leading a lovely life. And, if you're a person with mental illness, you may wonder why you don't have all the joy that others seem to have. Or, you may feel jealous of all that happiness and wish you could feel it, too.

I am very fortunate, and I actually have a pretty lovely life. But, anxiety and depression sometime make it hard to feel the happiness that should accompany my life. The symptoms can blunt feelings of happiness. And, my medication causes a reduction of feelings at both ends of the spectrum. In other words, anxiety and depression are less, but also feelings of joy, excitement, and expectation are reduced. I really, really miss those super-excited, over-the-top, giddy moments.

But, when I start missing those moments, I take a breath, acknowledge that I miss them, and then replace those thoughts with gratitude that I'm not filled with anxiety. That I'm not deeply depressed. I remind myself that the more thoughts I have of gratitude, of happiness, of goodness, the greater chance I have of experiencing those feelings. And, every once in a while, I actually have a moment of super-excited, over-the-top, giddiness. When that happens, I savor it for all it's worth!

Is Your Christmas Merry?

Are you filled with holiday cheer? Are your jingle bells jingling? Is Santa up on your rooftop? I hope your holidays are looking like a Hallmark movie or a Publix commercial. But if they're not, don't despair. Neither are anyone else's.  The time from Thanksgiving to New Year's is prime time for anxiety and depression. There's usually too much to do, relatives to see that you'd really rather not, disappointment when you can't schedule a time to see people you really want to, and budgets that are stretched thin. Or, on the opposite side of the coin, some of us don't have family, friends, parties, and shopping to take care of. This loneliness can be isolating to anyone, especially if you have anxiety and depression.

I'm not always good about preparing myself for situations that trigger anxiety. I tend to approach them with an attitude of, "Oh, this time I'll feel fine." I ignore the symptoms as they creep up instead of acknowledging them. When I feel good I toss my tools out the window and expect to continue to feel good. It's kind of like never changing your oil and expecting your car to continue to run well. But, this holiday season I decided to make a list of the things that make my holidays bright. I decided not to try to control anything about the holidays except what I can personally control. I decided to practice acceptance and gratitude. So here's my list of holiday anxiety relievers. Remember, these are what I like to do and might not be right for everyone. Create your own list, check it twice, and maybe your days will be a little more merry and bright.

1. Make time to pray, do progressive muscle relaxation, and get enough sleep.

2. Plan time to volunteer.

3. Keep a gratitude journal.

4. Listen to Christmas music. It's my favorite part of the holidays.

5. Keep my tree lights on whenever I'm home.

6. Light an evergreen scented candle.

7. Hang out with friends.

8. Practice acceptance of how the holidays unfold.

9. Understand that others' holiday expectations may not be like mine.

10. Be in the present.

11. Be kind to myself and others.

Merry Christmas and happy holidays, everyone!

Good Grief

For those of us with anxiety and/or depression, grief can be hard. Unbearable even. It can send us into a downward spiral that we want to avoid at all cost. So, I typically choose not to grief. Sounds like the perfect solution, right? Well, not actually. Grief is part of the healing process that needs to occur after a loss. Any kind of loss, whether it's the death of a loved one, the end of a relationship, or losing a job, can and should cause us to grieve. Clearly, I'm not an expert on grief, but I used some tools that helped me when we chose to have our beloved black lab, Coal, put down the Friday before Thanksgiving.

Most of us aren't comfortable with death, but talking or hearing about it creates true anxiety for me. Things that I can't control trigger anxiety in me, and death is something I feel like I have no control over. So, any reminder of our mortality can create anxiety for me. So, when it became evident Coal's condition was deteriorating, I began to worry. It reminded me we all will die and that I will die. It made me sad because we'd had Coal since the day he was born. He'd been part of our life for almost 17 years. It reminded me of when we had to have his mama put down. It reminded me of when we took my own mama off life support. It made me think of my beloved Nanny's death. Anxiety mounted. I don't like like to think about people or pets after they die. Remember, I don't grieve, so I don't reach a point where I can remember them with any joy or peace. I don't understand people who tell stories and talk about those they've lost. I just try not to feel anything. If I start feeling anything I might not be able to stop. I might just grieve forever. The pain won't stop. I'll be stuck with fear and sadness forever.

When we began to talk about having Coal put down, the sense of dread and anxiety started. But, this time, I started using some tools and techniques to help me. Reality based thinking helped. I felt like I had no control over the situation, but was that really true? I could make choices about Coal's comfort, quality of life, and how he was euthanized. I could practice acceptance by living more comfortably in the unpredictability of life and acquiring a willingness to take life as it comes. I could remind myself that feelings don't last forever and that I can let go of my sadness. And, I could practice gratitude by being thankful for all the years we had with our sweet old doggie.

As I watched our adult son say good-bye to a dog he'd known most of his life, I cried, but was able to remember the two of them playing together instead of shutting down the memory for fear of the pain. As I talked with our daughter who lives in another city, I cried, but believed her when she said we were making the right decision. As we watched Coal peacefully slip from this life, I cried, and was a little less afraid that I would cry forever. And, as I write this post, I'm crying, but know that the tears will stop, that the feelings will pass, and that grief can be good.