Working (it) Out with an Anxiety Disorder

“Exercise gives you endorphins.  Endorphins make you happy.  Happy people just don’t shoot their husbands.” - Elle Woods, Legally Blonde

I have both loved and envied this quote for a long time (long before I even got married, so the third sentence wasn’t even relevant).  Quick health lesson: endorphins are a hormone produced by your body, reacting with your brain to relieve stress and pain, ergo making you “happier”.  If endorphins make you happy, and endorphins are given through exercise, then that would clearly help with depression symptoms, right?  A friend of mine even recommended working out as a way to handle my anxiety and depression symptoms, saying it was the “best therapy” for her.

(I didn’t put it in quotes in order to be sarcastic; I honestly appreciate her insight and was directly quoting what she had told me.  And I’m proud of her for finding a way to help with her own anxiety and depression symptoms.)

My problem had always been the same though: I hate the generic “gym”.  It’s not motivating for me in the least.  And I gave it hard effort, too.  I would join, get locked into that year of paying for a service I would maybe use a handful of times, and promptly cancel after that year.  I also tried the corporate gym facilities which was only $10/month, but I both didn’t work in the building the gym is in and didn’t have the self-motivation.

When my friend was telling me about how working out has really helped her with her mental health, she was also promoting the gym she attended.  It was a boutique-type gym that ran only on scheduled classes and included a mixture of weight, circuit, and full body training.  It wasn’t the first time I had heard about this specific gym--both my mom and sister are members.  But it wasn’t quite what it was looking for.  Aside from the fact that you have to sign up for classes (self-motivation) in order to attend, there was also a social aspect of that gym that made my stomach twist into a knot of anxiety.  The community, team-work filled philosophy of the gym made me tense with nerves.  More people depending on me to work out at their level or lose weight at the same speed so that I stay accepted.

I know that’s not true, but that’s what goes through my head.  I get caught up in invisible barriers that aren’t seen as barriers to some people, and as it turns out, there’s a reason: I have social anxiety disorder.

Thankfully, eight months ago I found a gym that was perfect for me: no class times, the closest thing to “team building” is maybe one-on-one with a trainer if you show up during a time no one else is there (also a nice perk when you have a bit of a social phobia), and the best part: I get to exercise by punching and kicking things (#kickboxingrules).

But this isn’t why I’m writing this blog post.  When I first started at this gym, I was going three times a week because I am literally in love with it.  It’s a two minute drive from my house, and it’s right in between the house and where our dog goes to daycare, so it’s like I don’t have an excuse to not go in between work and picking him up.  I started to build natural relationships with the trainers and the people I worked out with regularly--one member even mentioned to me that she loved it when I was there when she was working out because I have an infectious laugh.

Then I had a debilitating flare up of my mental health issues in the summer.  And I mean debilitating.  My social anxiety became so bad that stepping outside of my house could (and would) trigger a panic attack.  I went from attending a gym that I fell in love with three times a week to being unable to go at all because it would cause a panic attack.  This had been a safe space for me where I was building great relationships and a support system--both for physical but also mental health.  And just like that, a snap, and I couldn’t even go there.

Recovering from such a flare up can take months of rehabilitation: medication changes, assessments, recommendations, treatment, and the like.  Self-care and mindfulness became my mantra every morning, but one of those self-care pieces that I felt I couldn’t reach was exercise.  I wanted to go and workout because not only did the quote from Elle Woods echo in my mind, but because I had started such natural relationships with the trainers and my fellow kickboxers that I missed them and wanted to let them know why I suddenly wasn’t able to attend my usual 3:45 pm time on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.

It took a while, but I stepped into the gym one day a few weeks in, pulled the head trainer aside and--having an anxiety attack at the same time--confided in him about my flare up.  He was completely understanding, as have all of the trainers at my gym.  They all helped me to figure out the best way to work on my return to exercising with them, but the very first thing they reassured me of was that there was no pressure.  I didn’t have to come in all-or-nothing; I could take it easy, rebuild and repair my mental health while at the same time workout with them again.  They even helped me figure out some of the best times to show up when attendance was usually low so that I wouldn’t have to worry about my anxiety being triggered from a crowd.

It took months to finally rid of the initial anxiety I felt whenever I even dressed in the morning in my gym attire with plans to go to the gym.  Because my anxiety mainly sits in my stomach and my chest, it would be so difficult to breathe (and not throw up) when I started working out when I had some anxiety built up already--the trainers often had to remind me to slow down or flat out stop for a round to control my breathing again, which helped so much.  Still even helps today.

I’m still not back up to my three-days-a-week exercise routine that I had started with almost eight months ago, but just going once in a while without feeling the tinges of anxiety and the mindset of triggering another panic attack is such a great accomplishment.  I can now add exercise to my self-care mantra again.

One thing I hope you take away from my story today is that yes, mental health disorders are debilitating, but they don’t have to be permanently debilitating.  Confiding in anyone can help, but if you can confide in someone in a place where you at one point called a safe, comfortable space but was abruptly taken away from you by your mental health, it can add to your list of motivations for you to get back up and keep going.

In the end, we all want to support each other.  Having support in a space that can help you in multiple aspects can move mountains.  Think about it.