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Anxiety in the Passenger’s Seat

April 1, 2024 //
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I woke more or less “on time” this morning, a few minutes ahead of my planned time. I got up, quietly went through my morning routine and headed out… well… after I remembered my lunch and stepped back from the front door to grab that. Then, also remembered my “computer glasses”, and went back for those. It’s been that sort of morning, so far.

The morning sunrise is painted across dark gray clouds on the horizon, streaks of bold pink, magenta, and orange contrast sharply with the gray of the clouds. The sky above is hinting at the bright blue of the day to come. I sip my morning coffee and think about my anxiety. I woke with it, although I hadn’t yet recognized my “companion” quite yet. The awareness hit me in the car, as I turned a corner and felt it surge as if from nowhere. My thoughts were quite suddenly filled with scenarios of doom, disaster, and unmanageable hardship. The feelings (both the physical sensations of anxiety, and the emotional experience) weren’t tied to anything real in my environment in the moment. I explored my thoughts gingerly – was I actually this anxious about getting the taxes done? That seemed unlikely; it’s never really stressed me out, ever, and has always been a rather routine bit of tedium that just happens to have a deadline. Could I be anxious about taking a couple days away, for myself? I mean, maybe, sure, but… this kind of anxiety, over that? I take a mental inventory of possible stressors and as I consider each, it’s clear that that isn’t “the thing”… so what is?

As I drove, poking at my anxiety mentally, I let my thoughts carry me back to the very first clear recollection I have of feeling “anxious”… I was, as I recall now, about 8? Maybe 9? (Honestly, I’ve very few memories earlier than 10 or so, so I could be way off here.) I had come downstairs to tell my parents I “didn’t feel well” and described the feeling in the pit of my stomach, the sense of pressure around my chest, the difficulty breathing, the feelings of… panic and dread. I didn’t understand why I was feeling this way. My father rather sternly asked me what I had “done wrong”, and flatly asserted that it sounded like I felt guilty about something. I immediately learned to associate anxiety with guilt, and to question my actions, thoughts, and sense of right and wrong, any time I felt this combination of feelings and sensations. It’s rather a shame my parents didn’t simply teach me about anxiety and how to manage it at that time, but it’s quite possible they did not know, themselves. It’s generally best to use the correct tool for a purpose. Conflating anxiety with guilt created considerable difficulty for me with regard to managing my anxiety later in life; I spent a lot of wasted time trying to figure out what I had “done wrong” that would cause me to feel such panic and uncontrollable dread. It became progressively more commonplace and intense over time, and more so still when my PTSD worsened.

I sighed quietly to myself, as my thoughts played out with the morning commute. One of the most profound changes I made later in life was simply to learn to recognize my anxiety for what it is, and to uncouple it from any requirement or expectation that it must be “because of…” something. It often isn’t “because of” anything at all; it’s a biochemical experience that can be triggered (rather easily) by an unfortunate number of sometimes completely unrelated (and under other circumstances, untroubling) experiences. Sure, it seems helpful generally to have some sense of “why” something feels the way it does, but insisting on certainty with regard to “why” can seriously fuck with how quickly anxiety can be resolved – at least in my own experience, this has proven to be the case. So. I allow room for the uncertainty, and acceptance that the experience of anxiety is, quite often, it’s own thing – and nothing more.

I’ve got a doctor’s appointment later today. We’ll be talking about weight management, my blood sugar, my blood pressure, my anxiety, my fitness… and… we’ll be talking about Ozempic. The recollection that I do have this appointment immediately sets off my anxiety on an entirely other order of magnitude. Fuck – is that it? I’m stressed about the appointment? Okay. Well. It’s just a fucking doctor’s appointment. But… now I get what’s got my anxiety going; my deep inner fear that “nothing is actually going to help” where my weight is concerned, combined with the steady drumbeat of concern about the costs of medical care (and the high price of prescription medications)(definitely real world worries in the US). I most definitely do not want to “get stuck on” an Rx that’s going to cost me $1k a month for the rest of my life! (What if for some reason I lose my good healthcare through employment!) Holy shit, yep, that’s it. That’s “the thing”, at least this morning… so… Okay, sometimes there is “a thing”. lol

I breathe. Exhale. Relax. I take a minute to acknowledge that these are legitimate concerns. I make room for the awareness that addressing chronic long-term wellness concerns – particularly those that are holding me back from making more profound gains in good health – really do matter. (I’d like to be around to enjoy my Traveling Partner and my pleasant life for a good long time to come.) I’ve got a good doctor, these days, and she’s not going to make recommendations that could put my health at risk (and fears about that are “old baggage”). I feel my anxiety begin to dissipate as I provide myself a moment of my own time and attention, allowing myself to “feel heard” about the things that make me feel potentially reluctant to “try something new/different”. The panic recedes and begins to fade into the background. The anxiety slowly fades. There’s no “disaster” looming, here, it’s just some nerves about taking a medication I’ve no experience with – which does reliably make me a tad uncomfortable, every time it comes up.

…Now, the morning feels pleasant and promising and filled with potential. Yes, I’ve still got the taxes to wrap up, and my Spring allergies are still flaring up (with trees in bloom all around), and I’m just days away from taking a couple days for downtime on the coast (which means getting through the week’s workload in just 3 days)(why does excitement have to feel so similar to anxiety? what a cruel prank) … but… isn’t that all pretty routine basic adulting stuff? “Nothing to see here.” I sip my coffee, feeling more at ease and comfortable with myself, and the day ahead. No, I don’t know where this path leads, and the future is unwritten… but I’m here, now, and I can begin again.

…I take a moment for the sunrise, watching the colors slowly fade as the dawn becomes day. I sip my coffee, and stretch. I breathe. Take a few minutes for meditation. I reflect on the wonderful weekend I shared with my Traveling Partner, and the satisfaction I felt planting 4 new roses in the garden, and seeing seedlings sprouting on my windowsill for the next plants that will go into the veggie bed (bush beans, Bok choy, melons, and sweet peppers) when the weather is just a bit warmer. I reflect on the frustration (and fun) of trying a new video game for the first time, and the challenge of learning the new interface – difficult for me, but really healthy and worthwhile to do so. It was a splendid weekend.

I sip my coffee and yawn. I catch myself fussing with my fingertips, moments aware from tearing at my cuticles – but I stop myself and reach for some hand lotion instead. It’s likely to be an entire day of new beginnings, do-overs, restarts, and opportunities to begin again. I guess it’s time to get going on that. 😀

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Roses, Sleepless Nights, Spring, The Art of Being, turning 60

Waking Up in a Strange Place

November 7, 2023 //
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This morning I woke just ahead of my alarm. I’m okay with that, the timing was right. I woke drenched in anxiety and doubt, though, which isn’t common these days and it’s really thrown me off this morning. The very excellent commute into the office? Mostly characterized by intense anxiety and fearfulness in spite of being both quite routine, and also a smooth and easy commute with little traffic. It makes no sense. I woke with acid reflux, too; maybe the emotions follow the physical malady? Maybe they cause it. I don’t know. I know that I feel… tense. Alert for the next thing to go wrong (though there hasn’t been a first thing, so far today or even this week).

…Fuck anxiety…

Work is good…so… it doesn’t seem likely that it’s “a work thing”. I’ve got a good thing going with my Traveling Partner, and things seem to be good with him… so… unlikely to be anything to do with him, or with “us”. This feeling is more a loose sense of persistent dread that isn’t attached to anything particular, but lingers in the background filling my guts with churning and knots, amplifying my pain, and spiking every thought with doubt and worry. It’s an unpleasant and uncomfortable state of being, and although I tell myself it will pass (and feel certain that is true), it’s where I find myself this morning and I must say I don’t much care for it at all.

…This sensation is sometimes the result of forgetting something incredibly important that I can’t put my finger on, but on this, too, I come up empty handed when I scrounge around in my consciousness and my notes for something it could be…

“Anxiety” 10″ x 14″ acrylic on canvas w/ceramic 2011

I sip my almost-cold coffee thoughtfully. I take a deep breath, exhale, and will my shoulders to relax, feeling the sensation spread, breath after breath. It helps. I let myself acknowledge that “I’ve got a lot going on”, and then also admit to myself that a similar amount of “stuff” might not feel so weighty under other circumstances. I also consider what it can teach me that the stress feels most closely associated with things I am doing – or want to do – “for me”: a manicure I started and didn’t finish, a book I’m almost through and haven’t finished, the holiday cards for the year, holiday items I may want to 3D print (which requires learning to use the new printer), make more shower fizzies, and something or another that I feel certain I’ve forgotten. When I list them in my head my anxiety goes nuts. It seems like too much. (“For real?” I snarl resentfully at myself, in my head.) It doesn’t seem at all fair that things I enjoy doing, that are in some cases legitimately self-care (and in others just things I very much enjoy) would cause me this kind of anxiety. Or… is it just the willful choice to do things for me that’s setting off my anxiety? That’s a concern I live with. It’s entirely internal, and has its source in that mightiest of anxiety well-springs – trauma and ancient pain.

A small sad voice in my head suggests “there just isn’t enough time for everything”, but this is another illusion. Anxiety is a liar. Yes, there’s finite lifetime, but there are many choices and opportunities, and time enough generally when I choose wisely. I take another breath, and another sip of coffee and watch day breaking beyond the windows of the office. I think about what matters most, and what I want out of the day (and the week, and the upcoming 3-day weekend). I think about paintings yet unpainted… and the passage of time. I notice my anxiety but also try to step back from the visceral feeling and in order to simply observe it.

…Damn, I’m in a lot of pain today…

Could the pain I’m in be enough to trigger this level of anxiety? Sure, it could. Does. Has in the past. I pause to take steps to manage my pain, and set the anxiety aside to re-evaluate later (to check whether or not it has changed after doing something about the pain I’m in). It makes some sense; my sleep was restless and disturbed by uneasy, anxious dreams – and I went to bed in pain, and woke with it at least once. It’s that time of year; the variable weather, the chilly nights, the return of the rain, and the dampness are all qualities that seem to be associated with more than usual pain (for me). So. I try to just let it go. It’s a thing. It’ll pass.

Fuck anxiety, though.

I’ll have to begin again.

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Categories Anxiety, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, health, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, War and News of War

Layers and Feedback Loops

August 13, 2023 //
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I’m working on my second coffee, sipping on it even though it has gone cold. I’ve got a wicked headache today. Worse than usual, and tightly focused in a very specific location. It’s annoying. My Traveling Partner and his son are hanging out, watching videos, talking about life.

At some point, the ambient level of anxiety in the room (and, honestly, I really object to even having that be “a thing” at all) begins to increase. My Traveling Partner’s comments become more stressed moment-by-moment, as though he is on the edge of having an argument with someone, though there is nothing to argue with; he’s making sound and reasonable points relevant to the content we’re watching. His son is quiet… that kind of quiet that suggests a very busy mind held back by firm hands. He seems… “glum” and also… intent, focused on something going on in his inner world, and perhaps only half listening. My partner exclaims something about his anxiety, and the video itself potentially driving that. He turns it off. His son speaks up in the affirmative – him, too. For once, none of this is about me, or my issues, or my anxiety – but I see it, and I “get it”. Realizing the enormous potential for this whole mess to worsen notably if my own anxiety were also to be triggered (which it easily could be by my partner’s expressed stress), I take my coffee into the studio to give room for them to sort shit out, and avoid being triggered myself. Nothing confrontational, just taking care of myself, and doing what I can to support a healthy environment by not adding to the mess.

So here I am. This quiet somewhat chilly room. The tap-a-tap-a-tap of fingers on the keyboard. This cold cup of coffee. This headache.

I have an anxiety disorder. Having a moment, episode, or experience of anxiety doesn’t make someone “disordered” – just human. My own anxiety rises to the level of “disordered” because of the potential for extremes in that emotional experience, the difficulty I have managing or resolving it, and the ridiculous way it can linger unresolved just making shit worse for days or weeks or months, even wrecking relationships, and jobs. It’s pretty serious. I’ve also taken many years of therapy to work on it, and take medication to help manage the worst of it day-to-day.

I’ve learned to accept the physical chemistry of anxiety as a very separate thing from any lived event that may trigger an emotional experience of anxiety; the chemistry and the emotional experience often need to be managed or supported quite differently. It took fucking years to get a grip on how best to handle my own anxiety, and I’ve got some good tools in my toolkit these days…but they aren’t “one size fits all”. (Hell, they don’t even always work for me!) As much as I’d love to say “just do this thing and it’ll all be fine”, I’m very much aware that what works for me (and my results vary) may not work for you at all. I share the journey, and the practices, because something may be helpful, even if only once in a serendipitous moment of inspiration. I hope any of it offers you healthy perspective, or even potentially an observation or practice that you can use to make sense of your own bullshit and baggage in a way that allows you to move forward on your journey to become the person you most want to be.

…Why do I even care, at all…?

Honestly? Layers and feedback loops. If I’m anxious around other people who struggle with anxiety, it seems likely that the potential for shared anxiety to creep in and escalate will increase. My anxiety feeding someone else’s anxiety, and increasing anxiety someone else is feeding potentially triggering (or exacerbating) mine sounds like (is) a really terrible experience that can lead to confusing or problematic interactions. Then too, just dealing with my own anxiety while aware of my partner’s, his son’s, the world’s… the layers of anxiety just make for a shitty emotional experience characterized by some very uncomfortable sensations and thought spirals. No thank you. So. I try to be helpful and share what works for me because anxiety is a wholly shitty experience for everyone.

So, I think it over. Talk to my partner. Take a kind and helpful approach as much as possible with everyone here in this moment. Share my thoughts and experiences, make a potentially (I hope) useful suggestion or two, and hope for the best – while also working my ass off to avoid taking any scrap of this “personally”, because it just isn’t. It’s simply very human.

“Anxiety” 10″ x 14″ acrylic on canvas w/ceramic 2011
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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, Healthy Living, inspiration, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5

Memorials and Demons

May 30, 2023 //
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Memorial Day is sometimes a hard one (for me). The days leading up to it this year were particularly difficult, though I don’t really have a reason why. I’ve lost a few folks over the years. That will never not be true in my life; once we lose the first one, it’s all “more” from there. Spent some time over the weekend reflecting on those losses, and those people. I spent the time with my Traveling Partner, and it was a very healing time we managed to share. I’m grateful.

Losses are hard. We feel our own pain most (and worst, generally). Running from it doesn’t change it – the way out is through. The challenge is not getting stalled in the momentary misery of grief.

The weekend was summery, and fairly mild. We got out among the trees. I got out into the garden. We drove beautiful miles and shared deep conversations. I needed that. We both did, I guess, and we’re better for it.

I’m sipping my morning coffee a bit surprised at how poorly I slept last night after a couple days of extraordinarily good sleep, deep and restful… last night my anxiety flared up with the recollection that today is a work day. Silly, but real. I woke numerous times to double-check that my “sunrise alarm” was actually set. It was. Every time I checked. lol It remains true that a few days of healing and emotionally gentle and nourishing time don’t “fix” anxiety. It comes and goes. My results vary. This morning I got up and managed to start the day without taking it personally or escalating it beyond the obvious; it’s disordered, and there is no reason to feed it and give it more energy.

I smile when I think about the weekend, and my Traveling Partner. Good times.

…Time to begin again…

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, grief, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, Spring, Summer, The Art of Being

Tea

November 12, 2022 //
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There are so many tea-related metaphors. I’m more of a coffee drinker, frankly, which you probably know if you’ve read more than one or two of my blog posts. I do occasionally drink tea, though…

Proof I do drink tea. Sometimes.

Here’s a thing, though; tea has been around a very long time. It has ancient origins. The idea of having a cup of tea to relax, or as a pick-me-up, or as a shared moment among friends, or a celebratory or thoughtful ritual, is not new. (This is going somewhere…)

…I mean…damn. Have some tea. Think about how that connects you to your ancestors – and the world!

Life has been “busy”. My anxiety has pushed me back into therapy, because although I worked a long time to manage my anxiety generally (in the face of trauma, stress, and emotional pain), I haven’t actually done much to deal with my anxiety in the face of … success and contentment and a pretty good life. Turns out, that also massively aggravates my anxiety! Fuck. Seriously? Well, shit.

Even a lovely colorful pleasant life rich in love and joy can be a source of stress.

One of the things I had talked over with my therapist is this idea that I feel unprepared for things to go well, and as if I am constantly vigilant, waiting for “the other shoe to drop”, which is a weird source of anxiety, seems to me. I also gave voice to my frustration that I’m struggling to stay on track with my meditation practice – in spite of my awareness and direct experience that it is profoundly helpful for managing my anxiety. How is that even fair? lol

All through the summer, I explored area parks and nature areas with my camera. Thinking, walking, taking pictures of flowers, trees, and birds.

I zoomed in close-up to examine small details.

I developed favorite spots as the weeks passed. I switched up my routine to put me out on the trail with my camera almost every morning for a hour or so before work. It did a lot to inspire, soothe, and entertain me. It met real creative needs that I’d been struggling to meet well for rather a long while. I still do it most days, even though the sun rise is (much) later. I start my work day later, too, and stay closer to home on work mornings (saving the further away spots for weekend mornings). I’m grateful that I can.

Just this morning, at dawn, I had a realization…

I think I’ve been “getting too close” to the issue at hand, and as a result failing to find a thread that connects some of it in a useful way, with other things that are also going on with or around me…

It’s easy to get too close to something, and miss the important details I’d easily see if I took a step back.

I drink a lot of coffee in the mornings. I often write in the mornings. I do camera walks in the mornings. I feel fresh and wide-open to possibilities in the morning. Once my two coffees for the day are over, I’m generally pretty well wrapped up in work, or moving on with a list of things that need doing, or errands that want running. By nightfall, I’m exhausted, irritable, in pain, and struggling to find emotional balance. There’s a lot of time between the end of that second coffee and the end of my typical day. I’m going to start stopping for a cup of tea in the afternoon. 🙂 An easy moment from which to begin again, to reset, to reconsider, to reconnect with myself… I plan to make a commonplace ritual of it, as so many people do, and I will seek to be very mindful, and deliberate, and take advantage of the break in my routine each day to really pause, reflect, and appreciate my circumstances.

…If nothing else, it will use up the tea in my cupboards, and give me a reason to use the tea cups in my porcelain collection. Delightful. Self-reflection, a break in the afternoon, and delight?? Sign me up. (Oh, wait, I already did…) A new practice. Sometimes it takes a bit of new along with the routine to find my way along the path. Something with which to begin again. 🙂

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, art and the artist, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices
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