Relationship Anxiety

"Oh, and one more thing," the holistic gynecologist told me.

"Yeah?" I responded, leaning forward on the desk between us, jotting down his massive list of suggestions (calcium supplement, more water, strength training, stress reduction, vitamin D). Geeze, I thought. How much can one person take on in the name of healing?!

"You need to go out on a date."

And with that, in one split-second motion, I dropped my pen, flew back in my chair, crossed my legs, and bit my pinky nail.

"Okay, I guess that's a 'no' then," he laughed.

That wasn't just a "no" — that was a “FUCK NO.”

I was four months into amenorrhea (absent period). I knew any Western medicine doctor would just tell me to either wait it out, or to take hormones to induce my period. But I wanted someone who could look at me as a whole, and see how I could encourage my body's natural ability to heal. That’s how I found this holistic doctor.

My period had stopped due to stress. I’d recently left my toxic job and went through a breakup at the same time. Not just any breakup either—the first man I fell in love with since getting divorced two years earlier. To say my heart was broken would be like saying the ocean is kind of damp.

I wasn't surprised the doctor suggested I start dating again. I’d been adamantly avoiding it since the breakup. Besides, in addition to my period going missing, my libido tanked, so dating and sex were unappealing. As a health coach, I'm well aware of how much our primary food (relationships, career, home life, finances) affects our physical health. It's not all supplements and kale smoothies. Twenty minutes on the elliptical everyday wasn't going to cut it. I knew that allowing myself to date, or at least be OPEN to the POSSIBILITY of dating, would be a step in the right direction.

But, knowing something and being ready for it are two very different things. There I was, literally shriveled in a corner, with body language that screamed “ABSOLUTELY NOT!” from the mere suggestion that I date again.

There was something about that Big Bang (my job and relationship falling apart) that shifted something in me in a way I didn't expect. Oh, I expected the sadness, the heartbreak, the anxiety. I just didn't expect it to last as long as it did. It's been about two years since that doctor’s appointment, and I'm just now taking new measures (Cognitive Behavioral Therapy) to address my relationship anxiety.

Yes, relationship anxiety—a classification of anxiety tied to relationships, including obsessive and intrusive thoughts, that may warrant therapeutic treatment. This type of anxiety surpasses the normal butterflies or nerves of first dates, wedding jitters, and "forever" worries. It's a form of anxiety that can induce panic and self-protective behavior, which leaves a person in a continual state of fear at just the thought of getting close to someone. The longer you build your fortress of solitude, the deeper the emotional grooves get, and the harder it becomes to enter into or sustain a healthy relationship.

The truth is, the breakup didn't cause this anxiety—it exacerbated it. My anxiety was present during the relationship and was the primary reason for the breakup. It was difficult to reconcile the anxiety in the relationship at the time because there was also plenty of attraction, love, and promise in it.

What did this anxiety look like? sound like? feel like?

Well, for me, the intrusive thoughts were the most difficult to avoid and quiet down. I'd frequently wake up next to him, look at him sleeping and think, this can't last forever! All relationships end, one way or another! Don't waste another second! Leave now before you get more involved!!

Another anxiety trigger was any sort of future planning. Every invitation to go on a vacation, meet his family, or see a play together was immediately followed by an internal voice saying, "If we're still together by then."

As far as what it felt like, everyone experiences the physical manifestations of anxiety in different ways: stomach aches, nausea, heart palpitations, sweating. I had it all.

Anxiety builds upon anxiety. Instead of tackling each anxious thought or moment by itself, I'd get anxiety about my anxiety. "Well, clearly if you're anxious about these things that means something's wrong, and the longer you go without figuring it out, the worse it'll be later! It'll hurt more, I'll get sick, I'll waste my time and his, it'll be devastating, neither one of us will be able to recover."

Because there was so much anxiety woven into the decision to end that relationship, it's impossible to decipher how much other factors may have played a role in the breakup. Perhaps we weren't right for each other. Perhaps the love wasn't strong enough. Who knows? The fact is, I'll never fully know, and after two years of obsessing about it, I'm just going to have to let it go.

After the Big Bang, I just wanted to focus on getting my period back. The thought of dating YET AGAIN was impossible, and being told to was a bitter pill to swallow. Yes, I knew affection and companionship would be helpful to my emotional health. Yes, I knew that the mind and body are interconnected systems, and that any joy I could get into my life would manifest positively in my physical health. Orgasms and sex are not just enjoyable—they are functional. Sex releases and coordinates hormone activity, which has a cascading effect on immunity, reproductive health, gut health, and mental health. I wanted all this, yes. But please, anything but dating!

I resisted dating for as long as I could, until the pill was practically forced down my throat, in the way of a close male friend whose interest turned romantic. Three months after the doctor told me to date again, my friend kissed me. We had been friends for over a year at that point, so he was well informed about my hesitation to be romantic with anyone. He knew all about my missing period and the loss of libido that came with it. He didn't mind. He was happy to explore whatever romance might exist between us, for as long as it benefited us both. No pressure.

Over the next year, he and I dipped in and out of an on again-off again relationship. Sometimes we engaged in real couple-like behavior (he met my family, we took trips together, we got tested for STDs). Other times, we'd go months without seeing each other. During these times apart, though I missed him and felt jealous at times, I always felt safer—safer to be alone.

Alone = safe. Together = dangerous.

Whenever we’d get romantic again, I'd not just invite him back into my life, by my anxiety as well. I'd run into the same intrusive thoughts I'd had with my previous boyfriend. Leave now before either of us gets attached!

Sometimes I'd try to envision what it means to be in a relationship—to share things, be a part of each other's lives, lean on each other for support, and I'd have a hard time even imagining it. I'd hear myself think, I can't imagine it, so it must not be for me. Then I'd retreat into my safety blanket thought: It's okay. You don’t have to even think about it now, because you're not there. You're safe, alone, single. Lonely, but safe.

Another intrusive thought of mine was a variation on "Leave now before anyone gets hurt." It would come up whenever I'd start to get close to him. It goes something like this: This is dangerous, Heather! Don't you see? Don't take this apple. Sure, it looks shiny and delicious now, but what about later? Don't you know it's poisoned? Poisoned with impermanence. Nothing good lasts forever.

In her book, Untamed, Glennon Doyle aptly names this, "The Ache." I had a hard time reading this part of her book because it didn't just hit close to home—it was my home. I know all too well that internal roadblock, filled with spikes, that shoots up the second you're reminded of the transient nature of life and love. While I couldn't imagine being in a relationship and all the joy it could contain, I had an all-too-easy time imagining all the loss I'd eventually feel if I got too attached to someone. So, why not just skip over it all, right?

I realized, until I get my anxiety under control and out of the equation, I'll never really know what my gut is trying to tell me, or whether a specific relationship or man is right for me. These questions will always be competing with fear. Was that stomachache a gut feeling? or anxiety trying to get in? And then, when I inevitably walk away, during moments of solitude, I'll always wonder if I left because I was scared, or because it was the right thing to do. Most importantly, with anxiety in the picture, I won't be able to sustain a lasting and meaningful relationship with anyone.

So thank you to the original doctor, the holistic gynecologist who told me to date again. I did. Thank you for that. I've gone from a “FUCK NO,” to an, "Okay, I'm open to exploring it." And now it's time for a new doctor, to take that exploration further—a Cognitive Behavioral Therapist (CBT) who specializes in anxiety.

This is where I'm at today. I don't know where treatment will lead me, or if it will help "cure" me, but I do believe it is another step in the right direction.