Summary

The article is a personal narrative about the author's experience living with anxiety, personified as "Mike," and depression, personified as "Debbie," and how humor helps in coping with these conditions.

Abstract

In "Meet Mike: Mike Has Anxiety," the author Preeti Ramachandran uses personification to describe the relentless and debilitating nature of anxiety, represented by "Mike," and depression, represented by "Debbie." Through vivid descriptions and humor, the author shares the daily struggles of living with these internal voices that influence thoughts and actions. The article highlights the author's journey of self-awareness, the challenge of distinguishing physical symptoms from emotional ones, and the impact of these conditions on daily life. Despite the difficulties, the author finds solace and strength in the support of others and the ability to laugh at the absurdity of the situation, emphasizing the importance of mental health awareness.

Opinions

The author views anxiety ("Mike") as an ever-present and overly critical part of their life, influencing perceptions and self-worth.
"Mike" is depicted as a source of negative self-talk and fear, constantly questioning the author's decisions and predicting failure.
The author expresses a fondness for "Debbie," the personification of depression, appreciating the clarity and emotional release she provides, despite her slowing effect.
There is a recognition that both "Mike" and "Debbie" are temporary residents in the author's life, with "Mike" being a long-term companion and "Debbie" a transient phase.
The author's therapist is mentioned as a source of guidance, suggesting that professional help is part of the author's coping strategy.
Humor is seen as a crucial coping mechanism for the author, used to process and objectify the experiences of living with anxiety and depression.
The article conveys a message of hope and resilience, acknowledging the support found within oneself and from others in the journey of managing mental health.

Meet Mike: Mike Has Anxiety

Spoiler Alert: Mike is my Anxiety

A cross-sectional slice of the Author’s brain. Image created on Canva.

The wheels in my head go round and round round and round, round and round The wheels in my head go round and round all through the day — © Mike, 2022

My nephew’s favorite Cocomelon rhyme transcends the television, permeates my skull, into my brain, and out through my lips. A game of inception ensues: as I sing the words, I comprehend the (unintended) deeper meaning it hints at — the wheels keep spinning, round and round, round and round. Inside and Outside. Over and over.

Mike has sure been busy.

It’s either something I ate or drank, a sign of a heart attack or impending doom, but as I sit in front of my work laptop right now, I’m quite nauseous. The queasiness in my stomach feels like a sharp shooting pain or a slow throbbing ache, depending on which Mike you ask (appendicitis or liver failure?)

The feeling of residual feelings — from this conversation or that news item — floating about my mid-section feels uneasy: like a gas bubble that’s lost its way and doesn’t know which way to get out. My cheeks feel warm to the touch and red to the eyes, which makes me look up half-expecting to find my husband there — surely a partner can arouse an unsuspecting blush?

But no: It’s all Mike. He says this job is not for me. He confirms my worst fear — his worst fear — that I’ve made a bad choice again. First, it was a green smoothie instead of a donut for breakfast, and then this real-world job instead of a real-world couch potato position. Affirmations be damned, I’m a failure.

He’s been spinning wheels and tales, spreading rumors to all the other Mikes that everyone thinks I’m a pathetic loser. And they’ve been spinning their own little wheels and tales.

Round and round, round and round.

Going on a walk helps shut Mike up. The adorably shrill, annoyingly cute barks of my dogs drown their voices out……for a bit. Plus, the movement of my limbs sends a signal to my brain to let Mike know everyone’s watching. Watching the leashes of my dogs tangle, the hexagonal curve of my ass move up and down, and maybe even the grow out of my once-unibrow-but-currently-shaved eyebrows?

“You’ll never know,” he says. “Just look down and walk fast so they can’t see you see them judging you.”

“Fuck you, Mike. Seriously, FUCK YOU!”

I realize I’ve said that aloud, and everyone is indeed watching (not) so it’s time to walk fast and go home. My feet go faster than Mike’s wheels.

Forward and backward. Round and round.

Then Debbie joins the party and things get really fun.

They’re polar opposites, Debbie and Mike — they like different things and like to do things differently. She likes to slow down, mostly to a complete halt in the form of a mid-afternoon deep slumber, while he wants to move quickly and swiftly from one thing to the next. Debbie loves ice cream, Mike likes hot wings. Debbie cries, Mike sings. Curses mostly, but with smooth, EDMish beats. Din din dish, din din dish, din din din din din din dish.

I like Debbie, though. Since she’s come to live in my head (Rent and Property Tax Free! Hurry, Offer Ends May 2022!), she’s made me profoundly aware of life’s idiosyncrasies and my protective boundaries against them. I recognize the tears she pushes out are actually processed emotions. And by challenging me to ask the question “What’s the point?”, she made me realize there is no point in looking for a point. Just eat, breathe, sleep, cry, laugh, Netflix and chill, repeat.

Yup, I really, really like Debbie.

But my therapist tells me not to get too attached to her since this is just a phase. A part of my life for only a part of my life. I get it, and I agree, but I can’t help but appreciate the meaning she’s brought to it by being here for such a short time.

While Mike, on the other hand, has been with me forever. Or so say Debbie and my therapist.

Round and round in my head all through the day all through my life

I’m a full-time parent to two dogs, Debbie, and the Mikes. Oh, and my inner child, but that’s a story for another day.

The ride has been wonderfully painful and painfully wonderful. For a while, I thought it was the worst thing to happen to me, but the truth is it’s the best. I’ve found support and humor within myself and on the outside — forging strong bonds where there were none before.

And I’m certain I couldn’t have done it without Debbie and Mike. Especially Mike, since he brought Debbie along (says he anxiously, a million times.)

Mike may have anxiety, but in my heart I know this: He IS my anxiety.

Note: Humor is an integral part of how I think, speak, and write, and is a way for me to process events, people, and emotions objectively. But beneath all of it, is a deep appreciation of the human mind, its capabilities and vagaries.

In honor of May being Mental Health Awareness Month, this article was written to shed light on how it feels to live with anxiety and depression and to normalize discussing it in our everyday lives.

Preeti Ramachandran writes personal stories about her wonderful life and extremely normal mental health. She believes she is funny, tags her articles with “Humor” and also dabbles in fiction. P.S: She finds it weird to refer to herself in the 3rd person.