ANXIETY

I’m sitting on my kitchen island, listening to Hanukkah music on Alexa, drinking coffee, and eating leftover birthday cake (not mine). 

In this moment, I feel “fine”.

I wasn’t “fine” last night. 

Ladies and Gentlemen, my name is Andrea Rappaport. I’m a comedian, social media and television personality, podcaster, beauty guru, small business owner, and mom of two boys. My hobbies include: singing showtunes, shopping at TJ Maxx, wallpapering my new apartment, navigating my shitty divorce, and managing my anxiety.

Anxiety is, like, so trendy right now. All the cool kids have it. So many celebrities and public figures have recently spoken up about this evil little puppet who lives inside of us. 

For those of you who don’t suffer from anxiety, Mazel Tov, my dear. This is one club, in which  you really don’t want to be a VIP. For those of you who do suffer from anxiety, 

“you can find me in da club, bottle full of bub.”  (Actually, my bottles are full of Zoloft and Clonazepam.)

BTW- that lyricist, Mr 50 cent, my Bubbe still refers to him as, “50 cents”.

...go, Bubbe, it’s your birthday, we gonna party like it’s your…

BACK TO THE POINT, RAPPAPORT.

My anxiety can be a fucking beast. It usually hits me in the middle of the night. I will wake up, (usually between 12am-3am), feeling scared, sweaty, nervous, sick to my stomach, and lonely. 

I immediately feel the need to “flee the scene of the crime”. So if I’m sleeping in my bed, I’m out. I usually go outside for a walk. Regardless of the time or season. Yep, I’ve walked my block in rainstorms, muggy nights, freezing nights, snowy nights. I walk. And I try to breathe. There are some calming techniques that work for me, and I try to implement those. However, when an attack is really bad, you can find me on the floor of my bathroom, sobbing, shaking, and vomiting. I should sell tickets, it’s a real good time. 

I’ve had several panic attacks where a trip to the ER was necessary. The ER is a great place for an IV with fluids, anti-anxiety medication, and Zofran. The ER is not great place if you don’t want to feel like fucking lunatic loser for needing to be in a hospital setting, yet again, because you can’t keep your shit together.

And here comes the judgement and guilt. Why do so many of us judge our anxiety? Why do we feel guilty that we have anxiety?

I’ll start. I judge my anxiety because I want it to be a short term thing.

“Oh, it’s just postpartum anxiety.” 

NOPE. 

“Oh, it’s just when you’re really tired and overworked.”

 TRY AGAIN, BABE.

It’s a part of me. It’s a part of my life. Hopefully, not forever. But, for now. So, it’s time that I stop judging it. Because that’s probably making it worse. I feel guilty about having anxiety because I feel like I’m a burden for those who care. 

WHOOP, THERE IT IS.

I’m actually starting to shake as I write this because I’m starting to feel vulnerable. This is normally when I stop talking and start making jokes or dancing (really poorly) to distract you...but you’re not sitting in front of me right now, so the dancing won’t do much. (Except burn off some of those cake calories.. not a bad idea)

See that? Just did it. I couldn’t handle it, so I made a joke. 

Comedy has always been my coping mechanism. I have joked around about my anxiety for the last few years. I’ve even try to make the ER staff laugh while I’m there... because I feel more comfortable when people are laughing. Because I don’t want to be the girl with the “problems”.  Because I feel more in control when I’m “on”. Because I’m scared. Because I’m afraid that I won’t be loved or accepted if I’m not funny. 

(Okay, now I’m crying)

Thankfully, I’m a really pretty crier. 

My humor is huge part of who I am, but there’s so much more. And there’s so much than my anxiety. There’s so much more than being a performer, than being a business owner, than being a mom. But being a mom is the most rewarding...even though it’s,  like, way hard. Having children really brings your shit to the forefront, huh? Wow. Nobody tells you that. They should really you tell that. Put that in the What to Expect When You’re Expecting books. 

“Start therapy, now. You’re about to fucking lose it.”

Guys, we are all struggling. With something. Or someone. Or both. Let’s try not to judge ourselves for what we cannot control in this moment. We are all doing our best. And our best doesn’t look like someone else’s best. (It’s probably better). They say that the holidays are a really shitty time for people who are suffering. I think it’s a really shitty time for a lot of people. So many obligations and expectations- it could give anyone anxiety. 

Be gentle with yourself. I know it’s hard. It’s really fucking hard for me. But it’s probably important. I mean, I don’t know, but I read that on a sign somewhere and it felt like the right thing to say... that’s it. That’s all I got. 

I am such a good writer. This is fun.  Why strive for perfection when you be NAILING IMPERFECTION?

— ANDREA