I’ve never been a blurter. Blurters are direct - they express their thoughts as soon as they pop into their heads without stopping to run their thoughts through a filter of reflection. Not that I believe blurting is bad - sometimes things just need to be said without the worry of consequences. You might say I am the opposite of a blurter. I think long and hard about what I want to say - sometimes too long. A person can miss opportune moments when they think too long. Much of that is my introverted personality. We introverts don’t think out loud - we retreat to a quiet corner to ponder, and only come out when we’re good and ready. But I’m also a worrier. More than a worrier, really. I have struggled my whole life with anxiety. Even as a child I knew I was a worrier - that it was somehow as much a part of who I was as my green eyes and pointy nose.
I had my first full blown panic attack when I was seventeen. I’ve had countless attacks since that day. I suffered quietly for years. For periods of time they lessened, then for periods of time they got worse. A few years ago my world started to get smaller and smaller as I ran out of places to go where I could feel comfortable. Through it all I functioned. I got married, held a job, had children, shopped, travelled, pursued my hobbies - but this anxiety monster was always with me. It crowded my brain, zapped my energy, made me afraid, made me stay home, and made me hate the way I felt. A few years ago I got help. It took me way too long, and I regret the minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years that I suffered quietly. To this day, there are only a select few in my life who know that I have an anxiety disorder, but I’m tired of being silent about something that affects, according to the National Institute of Mental Health, approximately 40 million American adults in a given year. So it turns out that I have a lot of company. I’m not getting any younger, so I’m thinking that it’s time to blurt.
