Political Anxiety Really Sucks: Do You Suffer from It Too?
You know that pit-in-your-stomach feeling when you hear breaking news, and you just know it’s not going to be good? Yeah, me too. Political anxiety has basically set up camp in my brain, and it’s not paying rent. My family and I are right there with you, doom-scrolling through the headlines and trying to figure out how to stay informed without completely losing it. Spoiler alert: we haven’t cracked the code yet.
Let’s be real—this stress isn’t just annoying; it’s exhausting. It’s like the background music in a horror movie, always there, keeping you on edge. Even when you try to ignore it, it sneaks into your conversations, your social media feeds, and that tiny moment of peace you thought you had before bed. But here’s the thing: we’re all dealing with this, and it’s okay to admit it’s hard. (And if you’ve mastered the art of not caring while staying informed, please tell me your secrets!)
Over the next few posts, I’m going to dive into this whole political anxiety mess—what it is, why it feels so terrible, and what we can actually do about it. By the end of the series, I’m hoping we’ll all have a few solid tricks to keep our sanity intact without turning into hermits. Stick with me—it’s going to be an anxiety-filled, occasionally funny ride.
I enjoy a good podcast. Time is limited so I can’t justify picking a slew of random episodes that are sure to disappoint or upset me. I don’t accept what podcasters say without question because generally speaking, they are armchair experts. I listen to them because I enjoy doing so. I do learn things. I hear ideas I’ve not thought of before. And frankly, I’m entertained.
“Robin, seriously? Podcasts with trigger warnings?”
Are you ready? Words are coming your way.
I’m afraid so. Some topics and situations break my heart. Others anger me. And there are those that I can’t listen to.
I’ve been learning about fear and horror movies and perhaps a sensible idea of why I refuse to watch horror them. I’ve always said that I have enough terror (thank you brain) in my life I don’t want to purposely add more. So, no thank you. But why won’t I go to a make-believe movie, but I can listen to a podcast about true crime? That’s a good question. I’m just wondering that myself.
Let’s stick with podcasts today. I enjoy listening to podcasts about history, and fake history. Why fake history? Because when it diverges from the actual history I was taught in school I think it’s weird.
PSA: Ignore my usage of “fake history” please. In this context, it is necessary to mention it because I do actually listen to those kinds of podcasts. My guidance here is: You, do you.
I listen to true crime probably more than I should. I’ve started choosing topics and searching for episodes about them. It’s remarkable how many cut and paste from each other. Some even mention how many YouTube videos they watched to learn about the topic. And this, strangely, leads me to trigger warnings.
A trigger warning is meant to give you a chance to turn away from the content before you feel harmed by it. That could be defined in many ways, but let’s stick with my simple definition of it.
[The following example is made up. It never happened.] This could be an example of something that’s triggering: I love potted plants. I’ve had this particular aloe vera plant in a beautiful pot for four years now. My dad gave it to me. He’s gone now. I lost my mind (read as I lost my temper in a big way) and was screaming at someone. They picked up Sara (that’s the plant) and smashed her on the wall.
What’s the trigger? People messing with my potted plants, especially ones named Sara.
If I choose to listen to a true crime podcast about extreme and violent child rape and murder and I literally cannot handle that, then when I learn about what the content is or there is a trigger warning and I still listen to it, well, I’m stupid and I’m asking for it.
There are always moments in every day when we must engage with our personal common sense director in our brain and listen to what it says. You know how some say that the proverbial door in the brain doesn’t close before the talking starts? It’s just like that. If you see an obviously devastating car crash and you see legs sticking out and you keep looking, and you don’t look away as common sense would suggest, and you see a severed head, gore and all, you have probably ignored your common sense and made a stupid choice. Don’t tell me you’re just looking to see what’s going on and there’s nothing wrong with that, or curious. This isn’t a war zone (I hope you’re not in a war) and there is no need for you to expose your Bipolar brain to that.
I struggled for most of my life with violent mood swings. Violent feelings would come over me and boil into my interactions with others whether I was with them or not. Hatred. I hated and I screamed and I broke things. I simmered. I’m actually agitated about something now, so I’ll leave that there. I just realized that trying to recall those feelings was going in the wrong direction.
I’m back. I took some time to play with my dog and chill, and now I can finish this. You wouldn’t think that writing that small amount would “trigger” me.
Common sense – Listen to your experience, your intuition, and your knowledge and you choose what to listen to. No one can make that choice for you. Take away the trigger warning and the title of the episode should give you much of what you need to know right up front. If you still choose the one you damn well know you shouldn’t and you have no logical reason for choosing it I just want to say that nothing is worth going back to dark places and you might be a dummy. Talk to yourself about it.
Your choice.
If you don’t avoid things that trigger you and you purposefully choose to listen to a podcast that will certainly trigger you, you are making an unwise decision. That’s a rough one. Don’t do it.
Mental Illness shouldn’t be easily dismissed just because you’re listening to podcasts. I avoid ones I can’t tolerate. I’m not going there. Period. You shouldn’t either.
Until next time,
Robin
“Do better. Try harder “ From “Redhanded,” a true crime podcast. We have it on our refrigerator that hasn’t worked since June. It’s new. It’s insane.
We all know that life changes all the time. We grow, change, and adapt, or problems begin to arise. This is true whether we have a mental wellness challenge like Bipolar Disorder or not.
I’ve never had long hair before, but the first year of covid, I didn’t have any hair cut. The second year, it had grown so long that I decided to let it go its thing and keep growing.
The problem with this, surprisingly, is that I have no idea what to do with it now that it’s past my shoulders. I know, Robin, ask our friend Google.
Here are some of the strange ways I’ve had to learn to adapt:
If you’ve adjusted, good on you. If not, it’s not too late.
Adapting to things doesn’t necessarily mean that they’re big important things; sometimes, they are small, seemingly simple things that may seem trifling or silly. They may not be so minor to you.
Remember my hair experiment? After my hand surgery having long hair made it easy to take care of, except for washing it with one hand while the other was above my brain.
Today I’m adapting again; our shower drain is blocked. Despite snaking it, my son was defeated by hair. And look, my daughter’s hair is far longer than mine! So no shower before I take my thumb to OT. Unlike years past, I don’t have to wear a hat and can enjoy the way all the opinionated bits of hair assert their dominance over me by leaking the not-so-private information that my hair’s dirty. I’m about to use both hands and just put it up!
Long hair has its advantages.
I still don’t know how to style it. My hand can’t hold a brush well yet, so more adapting.
Adaption comes in all different ways. Hair may seem a small and vain thing, but it can be a large part of our identity. I put a hat on my dirty short hair because it embarrassing to go to the campus with dirty hair.
I’ve been meaning to sit down and talk to you about this but, you know how it is. Stress sidelines the DOING bit after the brain thinks of something to do. In my case (this time), I have an excruciating surgery tomorrow morning, and I’m not looking forward to it. I’m not looking forward to the pain. Being able to use my thumb without debilitating pain aim definitely look directly at it. You see, I had the same surgery done on my other thumb two years ago, and I know how horribly, terribly, and frightening that pain was.
Let me quickly bring you up to date. We’ve since discovered that I have the nasty illness commonly called Fibromyalgia. I refer to it as Fibro because that’s just too long. We think that the constant pressure of the cast sent the pain level of a routine harrowing hand surgery above the charts. And no, pain meds didn’t work.
Ah yes, what’s the surgery? I’m having something put between the bones in my thumb joint. I have Osteoarthritis; this disease eats away at the stuff that keeps your bones from grinding against each other and causing intense pain.
Since it is now 2:45 a.m. I’m going to move on quickly. Leading up to today, life has been chaotic, emotional, and expensive beyond our means to pay for.
Bailey, my Kelpie (She’s a cattle dog. Google Kelpie, they’re pretty great dogs.), has struggled with severe skin issues all spring and summer. Our regular vet is booked out for months. Covid hit, and all the vets disappeared. I’m completely serious. In this area, Puget Sound in Washington State, veterinarians have been scrambling to find staff. While we waited to get in, the problems worsened. This leads us to take her to a doggie dermatologist. This is all so expensive. This is also so stressful and is especially so because of my surgery being tomorrow today at 7:30 a.m. PST.
We have a radioactive cat. Maks has growths on his thyroid and had to have feline hyperthyroid radiation treatment. I think I got that right. Anyway, he’s on the mend and zooming around the house. He’s gaining weight, and I think he’ll do really well. While he’s healing, we have to put all the dirty litter in bags, and those bags have to go in buckets, and those buckets have to sit around for 80 before we can take them to the dump. Apparently, they don’t want radioactive waste in landfills.
All these things combined with life in general, Bipolar Disorder, ADHD, PTSD, RA, OA, and Fibromyalgia, and I’m a sitting duck for a generous helping of losing control. I’ve stopped saying that I’m super stressed out because these life events are painful emotionally and overwhelming financially. Marriages and partners break up because of money. Imagine me and my underemployed family (I’m on disability so I’m broke all the time.) We had to borrow money from my mother and charge the rest. She suggested that we put the animals down if we couldn’t afford to get them help. Seriously?
Anxiety, stress, anger… entering the danger zone. And now it’s 3:03 a.m. I think we should add fear to that little list.
I need to post this now. I’ve run out of time to catch you up. Stay tuned to see how this mentally ill woman deals with family members not too willing to stay with me for a while. I won’t be able to do so many things. This time it’s my very dominant hand. My left one thinks I’m dumb if I think it’s going to do right-hand stuff. Self-righteous little bugger. This is a team effort. That hand better get with the program.
I’m going to attempt to get on Twitter and tweet updates on how things are going since blogging are iffy for the time being. I’ve never used Twitter more than a tweet here and there, so this should be interesting. I hope you’ll follow along! Join in my mad life and all the fun and bonkers ways I manage, primarily, to live my Bipolar and highly complex life. I need to learn to do voice-to-text. (I’m too tired to edit this, so I hope it makes sense.)
Last week I was feeling down, frustrated and I suppose a little angry. As in all of life, not one thing is contributing to these feelings. I know a major one is that my dog is sick. She’s in pain and, I can’t do anything more for her. Our veterinarian is short-staffed, so they’ve closed the urgent half of the clinic. A month ago, I made an appointment for her and it’s finally arrived. Its been agony watching something that has been consuming her and is growing worse every day. We don’t know what’s wrong, but we can see the results. She’s tearing her skin off. She itches so badly that she passes the pain from earlier scratching and digs deeper, trying to stop the itching. Next month, she’ll see a dog dermatologist. Thankfully I made this appointment with her regular vet. I’m hoping that they will give her something for the pain, reduce the itching, and help her heal. I don’t see any infection, but I’m not a vet.
This is Bailey.
I think I know how she feels. In the past, sometimes my skin itched so badly I couldn’t resist the urge to itch it. I’ve woken up the night with blood on my fingers. The despair and anxiety that come with that are immense. (No, I don’t have OCD.)
Those horrible emotions appear in various places in life. When my Fibromyalgia flares up and my Rheumatoid Arthritis and Osteoarthritis flare simultaneously, they invoke those same horrible feelings in my soul. I want to withdraw and lay in my bed until I feel better. But, sadly, that’s the worst thing I can do. (One of our cats just went to the bathroom, and I think I’m going to die. Be right back.) I’ve been learning about Fibromyalgia, and one of the first and most important things I MUST do is be active. Physical activity is one of the major and only things it seems that I can do to help me, hopefully, have less pain.
Pain, this is what I want to mention today. Mental and emotional pain can easily be as crippling as physical pain. I might believe I just can’t get out of bed, but I must. I must move around and not stop. Not doing so can let the anguish take hold and cripple me further.
I’m also learning that Fybromyalgia causes something referred to as “brain fog.” Let me just say that I have strategies that I’m trying to use to fight my already beat-up brain from Bipolar Disorder and ADHD. (Thanks brain.) The treatments for those two things are in direct conflict, so we had to choose one to address with medication, the other I try to work within other ways. I’ve chosen my Bipolar because adding a stimulant for ADHD would make the mania so much worse. I’m already so manic that I easily drive my family bonkers; I just don’t need more stimulation. And I’m aware now, that Fibromyalgia also makes things messier.
So, where does that leave me? I’m not exactly sure. So far, it seems that brain fog is a mysterious thing. None of my doctors have offered me a solution or even a way to cope with it. I don’t hold this against them. This illness is very debilitating and, like Bipolar, it is lifelong and I must find ways that work for me to cope. Cope. I hope I can thrive, not simply cope.
I want you to know these things about me because life sometimes sucks for each of us. I can’t possibly understand your frustrations anymore than you can understand mine. Pain, mental and physical is unique to us all. We know that already.
However, let me assure you that I am not alone and, neither are you. As people, as humans, we all struggle with unique things every day. This, as you can imagine, makes the advice that we can give each other very hit and miss, and it misses more than it hits. Why? Because we are as unique as our illnesses or combination of illnesses are.
They say that our uniqueness makes us special; I believe this is true. We each grow with our individual strengths and weaknesses and these things make us special, unique and wonderful. I choose to believe that these thing are true.
Saying that we’re special always makes me feel a bit frustrated. When I’m feeling crushed beneath the weight of life I don’t feel special. I do feel unique in that sometimes I think that no one understands, and no one can help me.
Do you ever experience these things? I’d bet all my money that you do. Okay, I have no money, so that’s not a real bet, but I think you understand. We may have illness(es), and sometimes they make us feel crazy. At least, sometimes I do. But, thankfully, I’m not crazy. And honestly, what does being crazy mean?
I can say that I understand depression, anxiety, frustration, anger, physical and mental pain, and the struggle to think straight or think at all. Those things I can promise I know about. You’re not alone in your struggles.
You are not alone. Not ever. We all feel crazy sometimes.
Bipolar Redux 