I can’t write a lot of political stuff without getting really angry lately (which would be fine if my daughter wasn’t in my care 24 hours a day). I’m so turned off by the Democratic party, and the stupidity that still permeates one quarter of it, much like their rival republicans, that if I said much of anything at all, I’d just piss everyone off because they’re too caught up in their own bullshit to understand that they’re helping frame this election in the same old way, which doesn’t help the progressives at all. There are very few out there that aren’t falling into the same old shit, but I do have faith in those individuals who haven't. So, since I’m at several different crossroads in my life right now, I typically write about my overall frustration. If I don’t, I feel like I have no control. Maybe I shouldn’t be sharing this, but I feel like nothing I write is doing any good sitting around in boxes. I don’t read any of my old stuff very often because I’m not impressed by anything I do. Unfortunately, I’m in a rut, so I currently rely on the feedback of others, more than I should, in order to take larger steps forward. And, typically, I won't seek it out, so there really just isn’t any, which doesn't make it easier to ignore the negativity in my head (those who have encouraged me, I’ll forever try to let you know how much you’re appreciated, thank you, again). Right now I’m terrified I'm going to stop writing. If that happens again, I’m afraid the outcome will be detrimental to me and my family's long-term future. For now, that’s why I’m writing this shit here. It’s motivating, and it keeps me from getting overwhelmed. Lately, though, I’m losing the battle. I wrote this a week or so ago, but couldn’t bring myself to put it up for several reasons, mostly being, “why the fuck put myself out there if no one is reading it?” I don’t know, really, but for now, it’s keeping me from settling into any sort of depression, so I’m just doing what I’m compelled to do, even though I’m aware I may look like an idiot asshole doing so. There seems to be a few nice (and/or curious?) people reading, and even though with every post I’m sure they won’t come back, a few do. Thanks for that. On with it.
I’m writing this without confirmed knowledge of Heath Ledger’s metal state, I am only going on what mental notes I made while watching his physical and verbal behavior over the years. If I am wrong in my guesstimation, I totally apologize. I have only found other bloggers on the internet that have had similar thoughts, but there has been no medical confirmation from family or his doctors that I can find. I write this as an example of the patterns of behavior that would have been easily recognized if only we talked about how common anxiety disorders really are in varying degrees of severity.
I don’t “idolize” anyone, really. Carefully dissect and analyze career and personal decisions in relation to the works of those I respect, yes, but even as there may be several directors, actors, writers, and activists whom I admire, I am not particularly affected by the death or hardships of celebrities who haven't professionally and personally touched me in a profound way. For a reason I didn't understand, Heath Ledger’s death hit me like a ton of bricks. I didn’t know if it was because he was around my age and a daughter not much younger than mine, and/or because pregnant women and new mothers make a note of those going through the same stages that they’re experiencing, like Conan O’Brien and Jon Stewart were. I remembered when Michelle Williams -- an actress who I know nothing of other than being with Ledger -- was pregnant, as my girl was still a new baby. I have never seen a Heath Ledger movie. I have wanted to see several of his films, but haven’t had time for many movies that I desperately wanted to see over the last several years. Brokeback Mountain has been recorded by TIVO several times, only to be shoved off the recorder by the 4 times it records both The Daily Show and The Colbert Report on Mondays. Upon viewing the early trailer for “The Dark Night” I was excited to see him in another career defining role and recruited my partner in seriously planning on going to see it in the movie theater (which is saying a lot because we don’t ever even talk about going to the movies anymore).
Ledger’s premature death personally stunned me. I had only seen a few of his interviews, and only knew of him from those, and the recognition of others regarding his revered work. One of the interviews I saw was on Oprah around Oscar time, I think, for Brokeback, with Jake Gyllenhaal, Michelle Williams, and Heath. My first impression was that he was simply adorable, but a bit uneasy. Fleetingly and quietly, I thought to myself, “I bet he has anxiety issues.” This was during a time when my own anxiety issues were returning, I just hadn’t properly identified them yet because they were lost in all that comes with being a new mom. As I slowly started to talk about chronically tensing up, it seemed everywhere I turned people were experiencing varying degrees of social anxiety or panic disorders. I thought, "What in the hell is going on?"
When the Oscars rolled around, I cheered the film on, as I love the Gyllenhaals and loved the fact that a beautiful movie about real “unconventional” people was incidentally sticking it to the self-righteous “marriage is between a man and a woman” assholes. I read that some thought Heath was aloof in public, but to me, his mannerisms were an indication of what was going on below the surface. As a teenager, me and my best friend were sometimes thought of as bitches simply because we were handicapped when it came to social situations (neither of us had been diagnosed with anything). I didn’t know how to express it without being ridiculed or singled out as weak (someday I'll tell the story of when I first moved to CA, my reaction might make more sense). This was especially apparent when we would go to big parties or places where there were crowds of people we didn’t know. Yet, we never talked about it outside of her pot-smoking paranoia. Similarly, this was also why I dropped my deep-rooted aspirations to be an actor in my early teens. I just didn’t have the confidence that I could deliver my lines effectively in front of a sea of people. The natural alternative was behind the camera; I love that position, too, but it’s currently only a murky dream to be able to act in some small capacity again.
It was frustrating to watch the media vilify someone who likely just didn’t know how to act “appropriately” in a very annoying public situation. I am an open book, but when I perceive that my family’s or my privacy is being compromised or not being respected, it can send me into a paroxysm of protective anger. When he was pleading with the paparazzi to stay away, I wonder if he was not only shielding his family and himself, he was attempting to safeguard the photographers and his career. I know when I’m cornered, I am always afraid I’m going to come out swinging and won’t know when to stop, even though I am a fairly peaceful person otherwise.
When the headline came across the RSS reader on 1/18/08, I gasped and yelped, “What?” I immediately clicked the link and frantically tried to find the cause of death. Already completely aware that this hit me in a way that I didn’t understand at the time, I slogged through the internet trying to find more information. Again, this is not like me, especially with an actor whose work I have never even seen. I first made the mistake of going to Perez Hilton’s site. Ledger had only been gone a matter of hours and that idiot had already posted a nervous interview, while implying in his scribblings that Heath had severe drug problems. I clicked on the interview that had been taped just after he had finished filming the new Batman sequel and immediately asked myself, “Are these people watching the same thing I am?” I know almost every kind of serious drug addiction intimately (through the experience of many friends and family, luckily not personally), and didn’t think he appeared to be on any drug, or strung out in any way. As he was stroking his upper arm, partially showing his tattoo, I wondered if he also picked at his ink. He looked to be to be trying to ignore a panic attack in that moment. I thought to myself, “That’s probably what I look like when I’m in an uncomfortable social situation, I can’t imagine what it would be like if someone had a camera on me, too.” He just looked like a guy in desperate need of a Xanax. I’m not going to speculate whether he was or wasn’t taking other drugs at the time because self-medication is common, and sometimes a necessity if you don’t have the proper treatment. The fact is, you can be on something, legal or otherwise, and have a panic attack. I recently discovered -- after many, many years of self-medicating -- that pot actually induces panic attacks if you’re already tightened up when you smoke (I don’t use pharmaceuticals unnecessarily because I hate nonessential man made medication, and have to find a new doctor anyway, which the thought of doing also causes severe panic). While I wish I would have figured that out a long time ago, some never do. And some think prescribed pharmaceuticals will save and protect you. For those who have learned to manage their anxiety, just having them in your possession can allow them to act as a safety net that rarely gets used. But there is another side to that coin when your tolerance continues to grow and you become terrified of running out of your one prescription refill.
When the news finally came out that it was an accidental overdose, even though I knew in my gut that was the cause, unexpectedly, I lost it. The full gut-wrenching cry surprised me a bit. I suppose my reaction was partly out of just being so sick of this shit. Why is it that the majority of people I know have or have had some sort of noticeable or underlying anxiety issue, yet hardly anyone ever talks about it? Big pharma just keeps medicating us, making us think this all normal. What the fuck is going on?
What may have happened to Heath and his family, can happen to anyone. It is for honest and responsible reasons that anxiety intensifies after one has a child. The same old uneasiness and stresses are still there, but now you have to outwardly manage it better and outright deal with it or hide it from view for the sake of your child. And a whole new kind of powerful sort of constant fret takes over the foreground of the mind. I can’t imagine how hard that must be with cameras around 24 hours a day. One might medicate in some manner to be sure, but without appropriate external support, the solution is only a temporary and potentially dangerous one waiting to unfold.
The shame and guilt of not being able to end the angst, no matter how aware of it you are in that moment, compounds itself when you’re trying not to burden others with your stress and tension. So you medicate. After you have children, the seemingly easier final solution is no longer an option in the back of your head, and that lack of control causes even more pressure, tension, and insomnia. So you medicate. All the while the tolerance to your meds continues to build, and the strain is solidifying in your neck, chest, and shoulders when you’re not working through the anxiety. As the body’s constitution fools itself, the doses increase, and if you don’t eventually accidentally kill yourself, your body will slowly deteriorate as you add new, sometimes unhealthy solutions to your concocted treatment. I have been an insomniac my entire life, and I have been given sleep meds a few times, only to quickly stop taking them because I’m terrified one too many sleepless nights could accidentally do me in due to my own perceived fettle and abnormally high tolerance for anything that is chemically affective. For me, mixing anti-anxiety and sleep meds together would be an accident on hold for no particular reason.
These are some tips for those with loved ones who have panic/anxiety issues: Don’t demean or belittle a person affected by an anxiety disorder. It’s likely they’re doing a wonderful job of that on their own. We hold ourselves accountable for our issues, probably more than you know, which is why some of us can’t quell the anxiety in the first place.
Don’t tell us to simply do “something” about it. “Something” doesn’t work or we’d have learned what that magic “something” was long ago.
We don’t like or want to be in this state. In the throws of an intense attack, one sometimes feels like they’re going to die of a heart attack or stroke, so please don’t have expectations of simply saying “just breathe,” or “stay calm”, we know these things, and while it may be thoughtful, you’re not helping achieve those goals. Often, we have to talk through the problem or be distracted by something or someone who is nonjudgmental, those we trust. Eventually, with support, we'll become a more confident version of ourselves, but until then we need a little help and understanding. I know when I feel like I have no one to lean on I take it completely inward and isolate (creating a perpetual cycle of selfish guilt), which sometimes turns into depression. And if the highs and lows of depression mix with underlying anxiety, both ends of the spectrum tend to be more extreme. The highs are not so high, but lows are really low.
People with anxiety disorders aren’t necessarily timid or pussies at all. As anyone who knows me can tell you, I don’t back down from anyone or anything. Even if I'm completely preoccupied, what sometimes stops me dead in my tracks is a sudden worry about what this world has in store for my 3 year old, and how we are going to deal with the path this poor planet is on. It doesn’t have much to do with surfaced irrational fear, which is why it’s so hard to get out of an attack and why patronizing the person only makes matters worse.
For those who think they may have an anxiety disorder: Ultimately, counseling is the best long term solution, but if it’s not a practical, affordable, or possible one, rely on your friends and family as best you can. Mostly we train ourselves to bottle this shit up and not express it so we don’t bother others with it, but that’s dangerous and futile. I am horrible at following my own advice, but if you don't feel you have someone to support you, I suggest make new friends, or lean on a friend or family member that haven't before. You might find that someone close to you is going through or has been through the same thing (especially in your family, since anxiety issues seem to be hereditary). Don’t isolate (I’m really trying to work on that, unsuccessfully at the moment). Or if all these other things fail, write, paint, exercise, meditate, something, but don’t simply medicate without processing what’s causing the anxiety. If I don't do something expressive and/or creative it actually sets off the cycle of anxiety, so I try to force my self to do something meaningful and lasting. You can’t just busy yourself and your mind, it isn't likely to just go away, on the contrary, it's all likely to build up and explode at at inopportune time.
Heath’s family may have done every single thing they could have done (if there was anything to be done at all), but horrible, unfair accidents still happen all the time. I just want people to understand some need verbal support and/or medication to function in situations that may seem like nothing to the average social butterfly. But if they aren't empowered to work through why they need that medication, some will eventually need more or something else. They may think they’re totally within the law, using a reasonable of medication for their body type, and it can all end in one terrible miscalculation.
How to get help for anxiety disorders
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