Courage - I'll Try Again Tomorrow

Mary Anne Radmacher says “Courage does not always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying,

"I will try again tomorrow." ”

Now who is Mary Anne Radmacher? I really don’t know. I looked her up and found her website, but that doesn’t tell me much more than that she is an author and artist and that I can go to her home and be taught how to do both. But I love this quote. It has a lot of meaning to me.

I am a coward. At least I think so. I am not brave. I will hide behind the couch rather than find out what or who is making the noise outside. When the dog barks – I close all the curtains and make sure the doors and windows are all locked. I don’t like being the first one to try anything new – I want someone else’s opinion before I try it. Even if they didn’t like the experience, I want them to try it before I do. I don’t like change. I am afraid that if something changes, then nothing will ever be the same. I am just a big coward.

My anxiety likes to make sure I stay a coward. When I get an urge to try anything new, go somewhere different, I begin having a panic attack. If you’ve never had one – consider yourself extra lucky. If you have had one – then I’m sorry. Although everyone experiences them differently, they are all horrible and I wouldn’t wish one on my worst enemy. Imagine the feeling if you were pushed off a cliff with a two thousand pound elephant sitting on your chest while someone was wrapping their hands around your throat and choking you all at the same time. You might get the feeling of the beginning of a panic attack. My anxiety is so bad that I now fear having panic attacks! Oh, the medication helps – I couldn’t survive without my medication. At least with it, I am able to leave my home and go to work each and every day. I can interact with familiar co-workers and friends and family – for the most part. Without it I would be a crumbling heap under my blanket under my bed at home. I know this because this was me before my medications.

I have a support dog now, as well. He helps as much – if not more – than the medication. He is pretty awesome and can tell when I am about to become that heaving puddle of nerves. That’s when he decides it’s time for a walk and time to play. After a long walk and some time throwing him the ball, I am no longer craving the darkness of the covers and my hiding place under the bed. And somehow, he knows this. Thank God for my therapist and doctor and husband who all worked together to make him happen for me. I don’t know how I lived without him. I guess, I really didn’t.

I have wonderful friends and family who love me and understand this darkness I live in. At least they try to. My husband may be the only one who truly understands the depths of the darkness – he, too, has anxiety and depression. Sometimes it is good for both of us to have this – we can help each other – sympathize and empathize with one another. Other times it is harmful – when we both want to hide at the same time and we allow each other to do so. Because we know we need it more than we need anything else in the world. Because we just can’t pull ourselves out of the darkness and it is just so much easier hiding away. It’s not healthier – just easier. And having a spouse hide right alongside of you just makes it that much easier to hide.

My coworkers don’t understand. They just want to know why I am gone from work so much. Why I don’t look sick, yet I take so many sick days. They see the work they must do for me in my absence. They don’t see how much I truly appreciate their help – I want to show them my appreciation – I truly do. But that anxiety gets in the way and keeps me from saying even a simple “Thank you!” So they look at me with “that look” that says they don’t understand. And I can’t explain it to them.

My boss is great. She understands. At least she tries to. She says she understands and doesn’t make a fuss when I am gone yet another day because those covers can’t come off of me today. She just explains to me that I don’t have any more sick leave and that I must now pay for my days off…but she says she understands…so I guess she does.

I try to have courage. I try to make those steps that I need to. Some days are much better than other days. Some days are worse. Some days I feel like I have made a giant leap forward. Other days I feel as if I have fallen into a bottomless pit and will never find my way out. Today is a good day. I can talk about. I can write about it. And writing about it does help. Some may say it takes courage to write about it – but it’s not really courage – it’s just another way to cope. I have to share – have to talk about this – have to know that others have felt this way too. Because some days – that is the only thing that keeps me going. The only thing that makes me say, "I will try again tomorrow."