From Shyness to Anxiety and On the Road Back Again

by Caitlin J

I was born with the personality characteristic of shyness.  During the years of childhood and up into my teens I slowly learned how to cope with people (and this included some family members) who intentionally or unintentionally were insensitive and cause me emotional distress. I relied heavily on my perception of faith, spirituality, and the support of friends. 

The summer after I graduated from high school, in the evening of Independence Day, I had a stroke. At first I wouldn’t accept the fact that I would never play my flute, swim, snow ski, or walk the long distances as I had in the past.  It took me 4 months to realize that what was left of me was all I would have for the rest of my life.  The nerve damage that effected the left side of my brain advanced the characteristic of shyness to General Anxiety Disorder. Although I didn’t know that the change in my personality was the effect of this disorder, I knew that the stroke had caused the difference in my behavior.  The actual attacks were infrequent so I didn’t seek an evaluation, medication, or therapy until many years later.

Approximately 2 ½ years after that fateful night, I got married. The man I gave my hand to became physically and psychologically abusive.  I tried to stay with him but his mental instability, which I later learned was borderline syndrome, forced me to seek a divorce after our son was born. Our son was the blessing that came out of that marriage. I didn’t have any other choice but to apply for welfare. My son and I lived under the thumb of the government off and on for 5 years. While on SSI, I attended college, choosing social work as my major. I wasn’t able to stay in school until I got my degree but what I had learned helped me secure a job as a patient representative at the University of Colorado Health and Sciences Center. 

Ten years later, I married for the second time.  This man understood how much of myself I kept hidden and slowly drew my pain to the surface. I still didn’t seek professional help. I felt so much freedom compared to the existence I had been living before.  Two years into our marriage, we moved to Crete, Greece so my husband could serve his last tour of duty in the Air Force. During my 1½ years there, I learned about how I should expect others to treat me. The people of the island were more aware of my abilities and my limitations in everyday living.  They let me do what I knew I could do for myself and always asked if I needed help when they saw me having difficulties.  Despite the language barrier, they wanted to know who I was and what my opinions were. In short, they offered me full respect. Except for my husband, I had never had that before.

After my husband’s retirement discharge was approved we moved to Tennessee.  It was then that the anxiety attacks hit me hard and often. The change of geological location and the different social norms had made the symptoms more acute.  I went to several professionals ranging from social workers to psychiatrists, who misdiagnosed my condition giving me medication that would treat an individual symptom but didn’t do anything for the disorder.

It was with the fourth attempt I made trying to find someone who could help me when we finally moved back out west, that I was evaluated correctly by a psychiatrist. With the right medication and worthwhile suggestions, I’m on my way back to the functioning level I was at before moving out of my home state. I haven’t been able to converse with this psychiatrist since that time because of economical and geographical reasons. I am relying on information I obtain on my own doing cross-referencing to give me some reassurance that I’m not doing myself harm.

Because the General Anxiety Disorder was caused by the aggravation of physical damage, I can not expect full “recovery”.  To tell the truth, after experiencing the pain caused by the insensitivity of those who aren’t shy or anxiety-ridden, I don’t think I want full “recovery”.  I don’t want to be like them.

Sunday, Feb. 28, 1999.

Copyright © 1999 Caitlin J. All rights reserved.