May is Mental Health Awareness Month So, even though it’s almost June, I think it is important to take an inventory of how you’re feeling—inside and out. At your regular physical, the doctor has tools like a blood pressure cup or stethoscope, but often your brain goes unchecked. And no, I am not suggesting a C.T. scan, just a few minutes of chatter with your doctor about yourself will do.

I have never tried to fool my readers—I am just a little bit crazy. I have anxiety and obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD). Neither of these things will kill me, but at times, they can be overwhelming which is why I see both a psychiatrist and therapist on a regular basis. Whenever I call their office, I have gotten in the habit of thinking of Batman picking up the Bat Phone—although I am no Adam West.

I’ve had OCD my entire life. I can remember my mom telling me to “quit thinking” about things, but I could not. It just made it worse. For the first 40 years of my life, having OCD was a positive thing. I managed to get married, have a full-time job and birth two kids without any of the balls dropping because of the way my mind processes things.
I was never late for an appointment, always read and perfected my assignments and was often the first parent to turn in all the forms you get at the beginning of the school year.

However, when I turned 40, it was like a switch flipped. My mind never rested, and it usually wandered to a medical malady I read about. I read all the health articles in The New York Times and watched medical dramas extra carefully. All it would take was blemish on my hand. Was it a zit? Well, it didn’t pop. What else could it be? The train had left the station. I would self-diagnose and then ask poor Carey. His soothing words would last about 24 hours. Repetitive and intrusive thoughts are unsettling, but medication helps.

Sadly, about 18 months ago, I started having anxiety and panic attacks. I suspect the loss of two brothers within six months kicked it off (yes, I am still blaming others for my problems—dead or alive.) Cracking this nut has been much harder. I tried meds, but they gave me vertigo, caused my words to slur, led to weight gain and gave me dry mouth. Unfortunately, when my anxiety is extremely high, the best thing for me to do is reschedule any activities or plans. More and more, I stay in my bubble, which is not a long-term solution. I am trying new meds and exposure therapy now. “Just do it” is my mantra. If you see me around town talking to myself, I am not being crazy. I am being brave.

So, at this year’s physical, talk to your doctors about both physical and mental issues. Your brain and nervous system will thank you. Funny Patty returns in the next issue.