Tag: anxiety

Breaking the Cycle

I know someone who is a chronic worrier. She comes by it honestly. Everyone in her family is a chronic worrier. Just being around them makes your stress level go up. It makes me wonder if this is genetic or behavioral or a combination of both. Anxiety disorders can definitely run in families. But you can also learn to expect the worst by seeing that everyone around you does just that.

In addition, you can pick up negative traits based on other people’s trauma. I know a woman who has an intense distrust of men. She freely admits that she learned it from her mother, who also had the same distrust. What she didn’t know until she was in her 40’s is that her mother had learned it from her grandmother, who had been brutally raped. So, in essence, my friend learned to distrust men because a woman she had never even known had once had an admittedly horrible experience, and that experience had since rippled down through the generations.

That’s heartbreaking to contemplate. She is now trying to break the cycle with her daughter. She’s attempting to learn a healthy balance between self-protection and acceptable vulnerability so that she can pass these qualities on to her child. It won’t be easy for her, but the very fact that she’s making the effort is bound to have an impact.

There are many insidious family cycles that need to be broken. Abuse,whether it be physical or emotional, is not something you want to perpetuate. Neither is racism or a devaluing of education.

Think about your family’s strengths and weaknesses. What does your family get right or wrong? Make an effort to stop that wrong stuff in its tracks. This far, and no farther. The destruction you prevent could be that of a relative you will never live to see. Let that be your legacy.

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[Image credit: Pinterest.com]

“You Deserve to be Happy.”

I saw that tag line in a Facebook advertisement for therapy, and it made me think of a conversation I had with a friend from Burma. He said, “In the West, you think you deserve happiness, so you get upset, depressed, anxious or bitter if you don’t have it. In the East, we don’t expect happiness, so we’re delighted when it comes our way.”

Like many things, it’s all a matter of perspective. And it is a good question. Why do we think we deserve to be happy? What makes us so special? Do we think we were born with some sort of golden ticket? “Happiness, Admit One.”

It’s natural to strive for happiness. But it might be healthier to look at it as a gift rather than a right. That way, when you don’t have it, you don’t feel like it’s some sort of failure on your part, and when you do have it, you’ll feel like you’ve won a prize, and can appreciate it all the more.

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Solving Nightmares

I was a very stressed out, sensitive and observant kid. My mother was raising us on her own and never received a dime in child support from our absent father. She did the best she could, but the wolves were definitely at our financial door on a regular basis. Our living standard went from bad to worse over the years.

I had a lot of nightmares. Some would recur for weeks on end. At times I would be afraid to go to sleep. My mother, at her wit’s end, consulted our pediatrician about it. It’s one of the earliest memories I have.

He told her, quite simply, to “solve” the nightmare. If I wake up screaming that there are spiders all over the bed, then brush them off and stomp on them. If I think we’re on a sinking boat, then bail the water out and plug the hole.

That was one smart doctor. He realized that what I needed was reassurance. I needed to feel safe and protected. Unfortunately that was not my mother’s forte, but again, she did the best she could.

Did the nightmares go away completely? No. But I became less fearful of going to sleep, because I knew that there was always a solution for that monster in the closet. Just shoot him with your finger gun. It’s good to know you have one of those.

Monsters

Fear and Worry for the Morrow

There is no bigger waste of time and emotion than agonizing about what may or may not happen in the future. It’s pointless, because the anxiety won’t change anything at all about it. All it will do is make the present a lot less pleasant.

Don’t get me wrong. One should most definitely look toward the future and make as many contingency plans to mitigate potential disaster as one can. For example, if you have an examination in your future, you should study for it. But don’t waste your time worrying about how you’ll do on it. Just lay as much groundwork as you can for a positive outcome. Study, study, study.

You should also remain fully aware that all your actions will have future consequences. If you take a rifle and open fire in a crowded building, it’s a safe bet that you’ll wind up, at the very least, in prison. But perhaps rather than worrying about winding up in prison, you should take responsibility for yourself and maybe seek the mental health support that you so desperately need rather than doing the deed.

It is always a good idea is to make choices in the present that won’t negatively impact your future. For example, if you can’t afford to have another child, maybe you ought to take action so as not to get pregnant. This will go a long way toward reducing your need to worry in the future.

When you feel yourself starting to feel stress about something, ask yourself if there’s anything you can do to prevent the situation. If the answer is yes, then do that thing. If the answer is no, then don’t waste your time thinking about it.

I actually think I’m becoming quite good at this, but not because I take my own advice. It’s more a function of getting older and having less energy. I simply can’t be bothered.

See there? No need to worry. There is a plus side to getting old!

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Sleepy in Seattle

In Florida, my whole life revolved around the desperate pursuit of sleep, and I was lucky if I got 5 hours of it a day. I was in a perpetual mental fog, and it was affecting my health, both mental and physical. Granted, this probably was caused by my 13 years of working on the graveyard shift, coupled with my stress and anxiety about my financial situation and a general ennui, as it were, about my very existence.

Now that I’m on the opposite side of the country, I seem to have the opposite problem. Here in Seattle it’s like I’ve been sneezed on by Rip Van Winkle. If I didn’t have pesky responsibilities like dogs that require feeding and a job that for some reason insists on my attendance in exchange for a paycheck, I think I could easily sleep for 15 hours a day. If I hadn’t started typing this blog entry I could succumb to the Sandman right now. Mind you, it’s only 7 pm.

It’s not that I feel constantly exhausted here. Far from it. If I have something I want or need to do, once I shake off the heavy sodden blanket of slumber I can feel quite refreshed and infinitely perky. And yet place me in a horizontal position and I’m back in the Land of Nod almost instantly. I honestly don’t know what’s come over me. I do have a few theories, though.

  • At this point on the calendar, at this latitude, the sun sets around 5 pm and doesn’t rise again until around 7am. And when I say it sets, I mean, by God, it sets. It’s pitch black before you can glance, all mystified, at the clock. I generally assume it’s much later than it turns out to be. This level of confusion can be draining.
  • I’ve always loved to sleep in the rain, and find the sound of it comforting and hypnotic. Er… did I mention I’m in Seattle? ‘Nuff said.
  • I’m at a higher altitude. Science buffs, help me out here. How much thinner is the air? How much impact would that have on me?
  • Maybe it’s something in the water. It sure tastes better here.
  • It’s much cooler here, so when I am awake, I’m a lot more active. No, I’m not training for marathons. I’m still me, after all. But I’d like to think I’m earning some of this sleep.
  • I’ve noticed that my hair and finger nails are growing at a much faster rate here. I have no idea why that would be, but that must require energy, right? You try and grow hair. Not so easy, is it?
  • I feel a lot safer here than I did in Florida. Which is strange, because the crime rate seems to be through the roof. Maybe it’s because the general environment, both political and spiritual, is much more compatible with my lifelong philosophies.
  • I don’t really know anyone and I can’t afford to do much until I get out from under this crippling relocation debt, so I may as well sleep.
  • In spite of that debt, for the first time in many years, I can see a light at the end of the financial tunnel. It’s far, far away, but it’s there. So I’m much more content, much more relaxed.
  • I’m trying to keep my thermostat relatively low, so it’s hard to get out of my nice warm bed with my snuggly dogs and put my feet on these cold hardwood floors.
  • And finally, finally, I think I’m actually happy. That’s new, so I’ll have to research it and get back to you. But somehow it’s easier to relinquish consciousness when you go down smiling.

I could probably write a lot more, but I feel a nap coming on.

sleep

[Image credit: integratinghealth.net]

My Jacksonville to Seattle Odyssey—Part 1

My departure from Jacksonville was a strange one indeed. The night before, after having a lovely dinner with one of my dearest friends in the world, I came home and started loading a bunch of last minute stuff in the car. I thought I had closed the door to the house behind me. I really did. But when I looked up it was open and my dogs were nowhere to be found.

I spent the next hour walking the neighborhood in tears, hollering their names. Of course I went to the extreme. What if I couldn’t find them by morning and I had to drive away without them? But then just like that they wandered up to me, looking very perplexed that I was blubbering on the street.

We got back to the house and I guess about two months of accumulated stress and anxiety decided to come out all at once and I just fell to pieces, and finally went to bed utterly drained.

The next morning I packed all the last minute stuff and did all the last minute cleaning, and another dear friend stopped by bearing Krispy Kreme doughnuts. This used to be a strictly Southern thing, so I didn’t have the heart to tell him they have them in Seattle, too. But it was good to see him. He was sick as a dog, and had dragged his wretched self out of bed just to say goodbye one last time. That’s a true friend.

When he left I told him I loved him and he said he loved me too. He said, “You are going to have an amazing life.” I got tears in my eyes.

It’s funny. All my friends seem to fall into two extreme camps. Those who can say I love you back, and those who get uncomfortable by the whole concept and can only respond with a smart aleck retort. (You know who you are.) The thing is, I know they love me. They show me in so many ways. But it would be nice to be told. Ah well.

Anyway, after he left, me and the dogs hit the road. It felt kind of abrupt. After a month of long, drawn out preparations and hurdles and arrangements and stress and anxiety, suddenly, BAM! We were on our way. Just like that.

And as I drove out of Jacksonville, my home for 30 years, I felt oddly indifferent. First of all, there is no “You are now leaving Jacksonville, please come again” sign on the interstate, so I didn’t have a definite dividing line. Second, it’s the people who make the place, and I had been saying good bye to the people for weeks. So the geographical change didn’t have the impact I was expecting.

But I did observe a tradition I always observe when crossing my home state line. I take a deep breath and I blow all my worries and cares and problems over my shoulder. I leave them in Florida. And this time, I also symbolically blew away my bad habits and grudges and things I’d like to get past as well. (Floridians may want to wear a gas mask for about a week, because it could take a while for all that stuff to dissipate.) Crossing into Georgia, I felt rather cleansed. Lighter.

In Georgia I stopped for gas, and a rather rough looking motorcycle gang pulled in behind me. I’ve never had a problem with bikers. They don’t bother me, I don’t bother them. But this time I took my dogs out of the car and was walking them on a patch of grass, and one of the scariest looking guys comes up and says, “Oooh! Can I pet your puppies? Are they friendly?” And we had a nice long chat about his 10 Chihuahuas and about Seattle. As he walked away, awash in tattoos and leather, he wished me a safe journey. It’s funny the people you meet when you travel. (That’s also a reminder about not judging books by their covers.)

So the first leg of my journey was a short one. 245 miles. I’m now safely ensconced at my sister’s house. I wish all the legs were going to be this short. Next stop, Paducah, Kentucky!

Check out Part 2 here!

Perry

The clock tower near my sister’s house.

[Image credit: panoramio.com]

 

Growly Dreams

I enjoy watching my dogs dream. Their little paws run and they sometimes twitch and yip. I imagine they’re chasing squirrels. But tonight Devo was growling in his sleep. I called his name from across the room. I didn’t want to touch him in case he thought I was the adversary. (I’d like to keep intact the illusion that I’m in charge.) When he woke up he looked a little confused for a second.

Was he the aggressor in the dream, or was he being attacked? I hope it was the former. I hope he doesn’t have dog-shaped nightmares. I hope that he isn’t experiencing anxiety or stress that is expressing itself in his subconscious. God knows I’ve been under a lot of pressure lately, and I’m sure he senses it. But I want him to have sweet dreams. As shitty as my life sometimes is, I pride myself in giving my pets a happy existence. They didn’t ask to be here.

What are animal dreams like? Scientists are discovering that a wide variety of animals play, so they must get bored. But they seem to cope with boredom much better than we do. That implies that they have rich inner lives. If that’s the case, they have imaginations, so are their dreams as surreal as ours can sometimes be? And what would be surreal to an animal?

I know when I lived in Mexico, my dreams got very simplistic because I couldn’t express myself as fully in Spanish as I can in English. How do you express yourself without language? How do you see things when your color spectrum is different? If you’re capable of hearing a lot more, are your dreams more aural?

The one image that I can’t get out of my head is that of a sleeping whale. Some types slumber in the darkest depths, head downward. That must feel like being in a sensory deprivation tank. That has got to be the ultimate zen-like state.

Which begs the question: Do whales have wet dreams?

sleeping whales

Fireworks Fallout

Apparently I have moved into a very patriotic neighborhood. Even though the 4th of July is several days in the past, my neighbors on all sides are still setting off fireworks at random moments. Very random moments. Mid day. Three in the morning.

As I write this, my dogs are cowering behind me, under the covers. They will be shaking for a long time. This is never a good month for them. I have to force them outside to do their business. It takes them a long time to feel safe again.

I can understand the desire to celebrate, and I actually do love fireworks. I just like them to be predictable and properly monitored and not close enough to set my house afire. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.

And if my dogs are terrified, I can’t even imagine what this month must be like for combat veterans with PTSD. It must feel like they’re back in the thick of things again, risking their lives. It must feel like death is imminent. Most of us cannot comprehend what that’s like.

Just like not everyone wants to hear your blasting radio as you go down the street, there’s a distinct possibility that not all of your neighbors find your fireworks fun. Patriotism doesn’t mean, “I’ll pursue my happiness, and to hell with you.” Freedom doesn’t mean freedom from common decency. That concept seems to be one of the finer points of democracy that has fallen by the wayside, and it’s a shame.

PTSD

 

Waiting to Exhale

I’ve been through some of the most stressful months of my entire life. Death, job hunting, moving, evil and unscrupulous landlady and her ex-convict son, even more evil and unscrupulous internet provider (more about that in a few days) all piled one on top of the other, and it makes me tired. If I were the gun loving type I’d probably be a menace to society right about now. I’m on the ragged edge.

What I need more than anything is to be cut a teeny tiny bit of slack, m’kay? Could you do that, universe? Just for a second?

And I have to constantly remind myself that the average asshole on the street has absolutely no idea how close I am to the breaking point. It’s not their fault that their behavior just feels like piling on to me. So I am forced to cut everyone else the slack that I so desperately need right now, and it’s taking an enormous amount of effort on my part.

I admire my dogs. They can go from states of extreme agitation to complete and utter relaxation in 2 seconds flat. Apparently it just requires turning in a circle three times (never two, never four) and then heaving a heavy sigh, and whoosh, they’re the poster children for total tranquility.

I need to learn to do that. But in the mean time I am learning how important it is to treat strangers with courtesy and respect. You have no idea what they might be going through. Your kindness may be just the balm they need to carry on for a few more minutes. Many of us are taking life just one minute at a time. So be good to one another. Please.

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[Image credit: claimthevictory.org]

I’m Fixin’ To

When I was 10 years old we moved from a mansion in Connecticut to a tent in Florida. I was uprooted from family and friends and seasons and all things familiar, and I never felt safe again. I was angry and terrified.

My mother turned into someone I didn’t know. She would come home from a hard day’s work at the only job she could find, as a cashier in a grocery store, and she would scream at me from her exhaustion and anxiety. I learned to hide in the woods for an hour or two, shaking and crying, until she had a chance to wind down.

I was also plopped down in the middle of a public school where I was the minority in the extreme and was beaten up on a pretty much daily basis. The education was so far behind what I was used to that it was two whole years before I learned anything new and had to actually open a text book. My mother would ask me why I didn’t have any homework and I’d say I did it right on the spot. I made straight A’s. I practically phoned it in.

The only thing I could be sure would never be taken away from me was my intelligence. I clung to that. I still do. And it probably makes me come off as pompous and arrogant a lot of the time. It’s purely a defense mechanism, though. I’m a mess inside.

It’s a shame, too, because that habit, early on, closed me off from many joyful experiences. There are some things about Southern culture that are delightful. While I was busy making fun of the Southern accent, “I’m fixin’ to go to the sto’.” I was missing out on the food, the slower pace, the weather, the beaches, the warmth of the people. Millions of people spend fortunes to vacation in Florida, and I wanted nothing more than to go home. Maybe that’s when my love of travel was born. I was convinced that life would be better just about anywhere else.

I hope that with age and the passage of time I’ve become more open to the experiences life has thrown at me, even if they appear unwelcome on the surface. Because you just never know when you’ll pull a gem out of the detritus of life, but you can only do that if you’re  willing to look about you.

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