Anxiety

The Mayo Clinic describes mental illness on its website as “a wide range of mental health conditions — disorders that affect your mood, thinking and behavior.”  It goes on to enumerate some examples of these disorders as “depression, anxiety disorders, schizophrenia, eating disorders and addictive behaviors.”  (Mayo Clinic reference)

PTSD (Posttraumatic Stress Disorder) isn’t listed in the Mayo list above, but it is also a psychiatric disorder; I have two Vietnam veteran friends who are both still dealing with PTSD after more than half a century after coming home from the war zone.  I am one of those fortunate guys who escaped the long-term ravages of PTSD, but I suffered some minor effects of it right after I got home.

However, in the fall of 1993 I was diagnosed with chronic depression.  I don’t believe that this was due to PTSD but, rather, it’s a hereditary disorder caused by a chemical deficiency in my brain.  This is a very long story that I’ll share with you in the future, but suffice it to say that I had a physician who understood how serious depression was, correct diagnosed it, and prescribed both medication (which I still regularly take each evening) and some cognitive learning strategies which helped me immeasurably.  

In the not-too-far-distant past mental illness was regarded by many to be a condition or disorder that people did not talk about, except with a counsellor or doctor.  It certainly wasn’t’ discussed in a family setting.  We have been involved  in ongoing discussions with our youngest son Tim about his efforts dealing with anxiety.  He has gotten help, and he wrote an article in Medium.com about his own struggle.  He gave me permission to publish it on The 225th Observer because I thought someone out there might find it useful.  It’s below in its entirety.

An Anxious Designer by Tim Darragh

How anxiety has recharged my creativity and career.

I’ve struggled with anxiety my entire life, and working as a designer comes with a unique amount of stress and pressure. Designers are expected to be innovative and creative. We are pressured to work long hours and prioritize work over life. For me, these stresses have sometimes snowballed into anxious thoughts. It wasn’t until recently that I accepted and addressed my anxiety disorder, and it has changed my world view as a designer.

Anxiety is the second most common mental disorder. The NIH estimate that 31.1% of American adults have experienced an anxiety disorder at some point in their lives. Even though most adults experience anxiety, the cruelty of it is how isolated it makes people feel. Anxiety makes you feel under siege by your own thoughts and physical reactions to those thoughts.

Three years ago I accepted a role at a digital agency on the other side of the country. For the past 10 years, I had cut my teeth at agencies and I finally felt like I had “made it”. From day one, I was able to work on some great projects and pitches. I did see one red flag, but I accepted it as my own ignorance of the office and company culture.

As the months passed, my workload slowly increased. I was the only designer in the office that did the role that I was hired for. This made me feel extremely isolated and I found myself having small anxiety attacks while at work. I’d start to hyperventilate, and my stomach would churn. Because of this inadvertent isolation, I was not accepted professionally or personally at work. It was clear to me that the role I was hired for was largely invalid. This was rocket fuel for my anxiety.

Before I knew it, the majority of my work was with teams in other offices, and it was rare that I had any tasks on projects within the office I sat in. This bothered me. I saw work going on around me, yet I wasn’t able to be part of it. The feeling of isolation grew. I found myself feeling hyper observant of my environment and my coworkers. I started to question everything happening around me. What are they all working on? What is that meeting about? Am I missing out? Did I do something wrong? These anxious thoughts became more frequent and eventually manifested themselves as weekly, then daily, anxiety attacks. I was under siege by my own thoughts and physical reactions.

My family has a history of anxiety and depression so I was somewhat familiar with what was happening to me, but I didn’t know what to do about it. Should I see a doctor? What can a doctor do to improve my work environment? Why was this happening to me? What did I do wrong to deserve this? I felt alone, stuck, and in doubt of our decision to move across the country.

I’ve learned the hard way that designers have little to no job stability within agencies. Layoffs are common, and designers are always the first to be let go. The day before my birthday, I was called into a meeting room with my supervisor and an HR person. I was told that my role was no longer going to be a capability that the agency will support. I needed to pack up and leave. Not the best birthday gift, but I can honestly say I was happy about it. I felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders.

The next few weeks and months were terrible. Literally the day after I was shown the exit door I started my job hunt. That’s all I did… I was entirely focused on my job search and networking. It was all I thought about. I was determined to land a job ASAP.

What I didn’t know was that I was running on fumes. Over the past three years, I had worked so hard and avoided taking care of my physical and mental self. To top things off, I caught the flu for the first time in a decade. The flu progressed into pneumonia. Depression and anxiety followed. To me every small issue felt like an accelerating disaster in slow motion.

Everything came to a head when our elderly cat had a health scare. I was concerned and frustrated for our cat. I was angry that she was sick at that exact moment. I remember thinking that I honestly wanted her to pass– for her own comfort and mine. Was I a horrible person to think that? What if she passed? Could I make that decision? What if she got better? What if I got a job? What if we had to move again? What if…?

Eventually I realized I needed help. Yes, something is wrong with me. I shouldn’t feel like every small problem was a major issue that I couldn’t handle. I made an appointment with my doctor. I was prescribed medication and group therapy. I had to focus on myself, and I had to work hard to get better.

Group therapy has been eye opening. I’ve learned that anxiety is a natural survival reaction to stressful situations– we all know it as our fight-or-flight response. When our brain kicks into fight-or-flight mode, our bodies start producing cortisol, the same chemical that is coursing through my body when I’m having an anxiety attack. The difference for me is that my body has lost its ability to effectively regulate cortisol. I’ve been fight-or-flighting for years! Through group therapy I’ve felt support and community. Everyone has experienced anxiety at some moment in their life. Anxiety is normal.

I’ve also realized that for the entirety of my adult life, I’ve tied my identity as a designer directly to my self identity. I’ve always been shy, and being a designer is cool. By extension people might think I’m cool. For me, each time I’ve been laid-off has put my self identity into question because my career is sent into flux. I needed to reprogram my brain. Yes, my career just hit another speed bump, but my self value should not be dependent on that. I needed to learn to think practically about my own thoughts and disconnect my own self value with the success of my career. I needed to learn to accept that sometimes work is just work. Yes, I work as a designer, but I am much more than that.

One afternoon, a good friend (and talented web developer) of mine told me that he knows that I have a great technical mind, and that I am much more than just a designer. He said that I could very easily be a web or app developer. This was astonishing to me! I had never thought of myself as anything but a designer. I felt like another weight was lifted off of my shoulders and I finally had some alternative pathways for my creative and career goals.

My struggle with anxiety has helped me to realize that I am larger than the job that I have or the projects I work on. My value comes from my experience. I can direct my career and shape my life in the way I want it to be. I no longer feel cornered by my career or my skills. I feel renewed and excited about what the future holds for my creative career.

I’m not sure if I’ll ever get to the point where I don’t have anxiety and I don’t need medication. Only time will tell. Right now, I’m doing good (which is great). What I’ve learned is to be mindful of how I calculate my self value. Our culture increasingly puts pressure on being creative and unique, and being a designer is in some ways the perfect illustration of that idea. So for me, working as a designer will always be a large part of my life, but now it doesn’t have to be the largest or most important part.

Anxiety coping skills & resources:

• Simply learning about anxiety has helped me a ton. Knowledge is powerful. Generalized Anxiety — Mayo Clinic

• I shared how I feel and my thoughts with my friends and family.

• Journaling is a good outlet. It helps me to acknowledge and let go of whatever is bothering me. I prefer writing in a notebook, but there is apps out there like Day One.

• I use the Headspace App for mindfulness & meditation. There are many other apps such as Calm, Balance, and 10% Happier.

• Distracting myself is ok. I will watch Netflix or a movie. If I’m well enough, reading a book really helps me. I recently got a library card, and there are tons of free audio books and movies to borrow.
• Side projects for myself are important. I’m not talking about freelance or side hustles. For instance, this article has been a personal side project. I’m creating this for you and for myself.

Duffle Bag Diaries

Fifty-three years ago this June I met Taylor H. Davis as we began our mutual yet individual journeys through three year careers in Uncle Sam's Army.  The place was North Fort Lewis (now JBLM) and the occasion was BCT (Basic Combat Training), an unbelievably terrible but somehow beneficial eight weeks in our young lives.

Anyway, over the past half-century my fellow BCT bunkmate and I have managed to keep in contact with each other.  Below is an email Taylor recently sent me to share with you all.  Enjoy!

Dear Gordy; 

Your dedication to feeding the fires of friendships over the decades has returned to you a wealth of people who hold you in high regard. Count me among them. I can only imagine the number of friendships you have which have lasted more than 50 years. I have a handful, with you being one of them. 52 years, ol’ chum. 

Gordy, here is my first entry of true Army stories which you can use in your blog. 

Duffle Bag Diaries By Taylor H. Davis Volume 1, Issue 1: 

“The Deceptive Songwriter” 

Winters at Ft. Lee, VA can be harsh. It’s not unusual for everything to be coated in ice. Everything. Total silver thaw. And, yet six pages later in the calendar, summer can be just as extreme. Late August in 1967 found Ft. Lee sweltering in heat with curlicues of heat radiating and pulsating off the streets and sidewalks, and every Quartermaster training class taking extra breaks to either cool off or, in the case of classroom-type training, to try to wake up. The Vietnam War was in full-tilt rage and had to fed with replacement forces continually. The voracious consumption of trained soldiers had Ft. Lee conducting Quartermaster-related training around the clock. “24/7” as they say today. 

One such training program was the 8-week “Stock Control & Accounting” advanced individual trading (AIT) course, and one specific classroom of about 25 trainees, all sitting at desks in the stifling heat, was struggling to concentrate on the droning words of the Specialist 4 Instructor standing on the raised platform above them. Most of the class was able to maintain contact with consciousness and actually learn, while, understandably, there were those few, predictable, bobbing and drooping heads. One individual in that group of mostly conscripted sufferers, however, didn’t seem to be affected a whit by the choking heat or the monotonous delivery of the Instructor. This trainee’s attention was riveted on the 

page he was writing on. It was like he was on his own island, as he seemed totally apart from the activities of the rest of the class. After a while, his nearby classmates took notice of his distracted ambivalence to the course being taught. So, during one of the breaks, out on the sidewalk in front of the aluminum-sided classroom, 3 or 4 of his classmates asked him, “What’s up, man? What are you doing in class? You know if you fail this, they might bounce you down into the Infantry, then straight to Vietnam and then your ass will be cooked for sure!” The unaffected soldier replied, “I’m writing a song. And I think it’s gonna be pretty good”. He beamed when he made that declaration, and it took the rest of the guys off-guard, surprised that he wasn’t ruffled by the possible specter of dying in Vietnam. “Yeah, it’s good. You wanna hear what I’ve written so far?”, he offered. “OK, but hurry. As soon as this cigarette goes out, we’re back in class.” 

He pulled a folded sheet of paper from his back pocket, opened it, and began reading: 

You've long been on the open road. You've been sleepin' in the rain. From the dirt of words and mud of cells Your clothes are dark and stained. 

But the dirty words and the muddy cells Will soon be judged insane. So only stop and rest to yourself And you'll be off again. 

And take off your thirsty boots And stay for a while. Your feet are hot and weary From a dusty mile. 

“That’s it so far. You guys like it?”, he asked. “Yeah, I guess so. Maybe if you play it for us in the barracks, it’ll sound better”, one man offered. Just then, the Instructor stepped to the door and called all the trainees back in the classroom. 

Over the next week, variations of the above scenario repeated themselves, until during one break, the fledgling, doomed-soldier (but-ever-focused) songwriter said his song was complete. “It’s finished”, he said, as he proceeded to read the remaining verses to all: 

And maybe I can make you laugh And maybe I can try. Just lookin' for the evenin' And the mornin' in your eyes. 

Then tell me of the ones you see As far as you could see. Across the plain from field to town A marchin' to be free. 

And of the rusted prison gates That tumble by degree. Like laughin' children one by one They look like you and me. 

So take off your thirsty boots And stay for awhile. Your feet are hot and weary From a dusty mile. 

And maybe I can make you laugh And maybe I can try. Lookin' for the evenin' And the mornin' in your eyes. 

I know you are no stranger Down the crooked rainbow trial. From dancing cliff edge, shattered sills Of slander shackled jails. 

But the melodies drift from below 

As walls are bein' scaled, Yes and all of this and more my friend Your song shall not be failed. 

Then take off your thirsty boots And stay for a while. Your feet are hot and weary From a dusty mile. 

And maybe I can make you laugh And maybe I can try. Just lookin' for the evenin' And the mornin' in your eyes. 

Then take off your thirsty boots And stay for a while. Your feet are hot and weary From a dusty mile. 

And maybe I can make you laugh And maybe I can try. Lookin' for the evenin' And the mornin' in your eyes. 

“I’ll play it for you guys tonight. This time I’ll sing it instead of reading it, and my guitar will make it sound better, too.” 

The prospect of his highly anticipated musical debut that night must have made the remaining, intervening hours of afternoon class drag by for this poor, misdirected soul. But like all things, the class that day did come to an end. And that night, as promised, he sang his lovely song. It was truly beautiful. 

I was there, and I’ll never forget that first impression I had of his gentle artistry. 

2.5 years later, in January 1970, after I’d returned from Vietnam, I was in a Portland, Oregon hippie-type record store, Music Millennium. I picked up a 1965 album by Judy Collins, entitled “Fifth Album”, - flipped it over and I was both shocked and deeply disappointed. There, on Ms. Collins’ album, in my very hands, was a song, “Thirsty Boots”, written by one Eric Anderson, which he’d been performing in Greenwich Village since the early 60’s. It seems that my military colleague, back in 1967, had simply recalled the lyrics from her album, jotted them down over time, and then basked in his hijacked glory as he introduced us to an actually wonderful song. I thank him for that. And for making those sweltering weeks at least tolerable, way back then during those Ft. Lee days, which today, I look upon fondly. 

Here’s the link to “Thirsty Boots” by Judy Collins on You Tube (by the way, I prefer John Denver’s version): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ckPMoLH-c2s