self-advocacy

So you have anxiety. And that means for every situation you come across that involves other people and triggers that anxiety, you have to choose between two options.

One is that you power through it and endure the anxiety. The other is that you ask to be excused from it or to reach some sort of compromise where you still do it but in a way that is more comfortable for you.

This is also complicated by the fact that you want to get over your anxiety, or improve as much as possible in your ability to live the life you want, which usually involves some level of exposure therapy and challenging yourself. You know you should power through. You know you tend to feel good about yourself when you’re able to.

But that doesn’t mean you should or can force yourself through any triggering experience that comes up. For one thing, exposure therapy is supposed to proceed by gradual steps. It works best that way. Taking a step you’re not ready for can do more harm than good. Also, it’s exhausting. It’s so unbelievably exhausting to confront intense anxiety on a regular basis. If that means an experience comes up that you probably could handle, but you would rather make some adjustments to make it easier on you – solely because you’re tired of having to handle things that are super overwhelming – you shouldn’t be put down for that. It’s not the same as being constantly avoidant. It’s making a choice to be kind to yourself, to let yourself have a break from having to work so hard – in ways that are often not visible to the people around you, so even though you have to hear a lot about the ways in which you’ve failed to live up to the behavior of a non-anxious person, you rarely get any praise for what you do manage to accomplish.

I have such a hard time with self-advocacy. Trying to figure out whether it’s a good idea. Whether it’s okay. How long to cling to my “demands” before letting it go and accepting I’m not going to get what I want.

I don’t trust myself at all. I don’t like advocating for myself. I hate debating. I hate sounding defensive. I hate the thought that I’m being seen as a burden, someone incomprehensible and exasperating that has to be dealt with. I hate acknowledging the minor things I’m trying to avoid, and even more so, I hate the tone of voice the other person almost always gets that makes me feel ridiculous, the tone of voice that says ‘what is wrong with you? how can this possibly be an issue for you?’ I hate having to repeat myself over and over because people don’t listen, don’t take in things that don’t make any sense to them.

I hate the fact that other people are so quick to belittle me in subtle ways that it doesn’t take long at all before I am completely mired in guilt and self-doubt. I start thinking there must be something wrong with me to have even started this conversation. I wonder if I’m doing it to get attention. But I’m not, because I would much rather the person have just agreed to what I wanted from the start without acting like it was a big deal at all. I wonder if I really need what I’m asking for. I usually conclude that I don’t, because I decide I will survive whatever the situation is, even if it’s ten times more miserable than it needs to be. I decide I need to put the other person first, because this is obviously a much bigger sacrifice for them, even though they usually don’t have a full understanding of what I’ll be dealing with, because I’m not forthcoming enough about it. I tend to feel like I talk about my anxiety constantly, too much, and I don’t even think that’s true. For how big a presence it is in my existence, I’m sure I talk about it way less than I would be inclined to if other people didn’t respond the way they did (getting all uncomfortable, implying that I really need to do something about it because it makes me wrong, it makes me not fit in, and it would be good if I could fit in, conform to society’s model of success, etc.).

The whole process is unpleasant and I think there have been times self-advocating has ended up causing me more anxiety and misery than if I had just done the anxiety-producing thing.

Looking back over my entire life, I don’t think I have ever asked for an accommodation that extreme. I have asked for things that should be simple and easy to say yes to. For example, when I refused to do presentations in school. I went to my teachers and I told them I couldn’t do it, and it was fine if that meant they had to give me a zero for the assignment. I didn’t say they had to give me an alternate assignment. Or even imply that they would be a horrible person for failing me (although I do kind of think they were). All I said is that I would prefer failure to giving the presentation, that I was choosing the zero grade. That was my choice to make. And most of the time they were absolutely horrid about it – rolling their eyes or scoffing at me, pretending they didn’t hear me and then calling my name to present anyway (forcing me to go back up to them and insist again that I wouldn’t do it, this time with more people witnessing it), saying over and over again ‘no, you have to’ every time I said I wouldn’t, acting really angry about it for no good reason I could see.

I had one teacher who actually got it. Instead of making me present, he met with me one-on-one and we had an informal conversation about the topic of my presentation. Did this lead to the ruination of my education? No. He gave me a chance to get the grade I deserved, the grade that reflected my understanding of the subject matter. That’s all that happened. He encountered someone with anxiety issues and treated them decently. Shockingly, life went on and tragedy did not ensue.

Anyway, I guess I just wanted to explore my thoughts and feelings on this topic, because I am attempting to ask for accommodations at work. So far, it has not been going well, and as usual, it’s making me feel crappy about myself. And I know I shouldn’t feel that way. I’m not doing anything wrong – even if they end up denying my requests. Even if they get huffy and act like I’m deliberately trying to make their lives harder. Even if there is a part of me that thinks I could manage without what I’m asking for. I’m not a terrible person for wanting to eliminate a tiny fraction of the stress this trip is going to cause.

emetophobia and high school

I hate having emetophobia, obviously. It impacts every area of my life and generally makes everything a little more difficult. But I’ve been thinking lately about what it was like to have this phobia during high school, and I have to say that was probably one of the biggest challenges I’ve ever faced – getting through every single day of those four years while having to deal with this fear. I’m so glad to have that behind me and have the utmost respect for anyone still in that situation, because it is incredibly difficult.

You are pretty much trapped in one building for the entire day, going straight from one class to another. You have all the usual stress of schoolwork, interacting with your classmates (some of them nice, some of them psychotic), interacting with teachers and counselors and administrators and security guards and bus drivers (some of them nice, some of them psychotic), and then when you add anxiety issues and panic attacks to all of that, things start to get incredibly messed up.

I definitely made the situation worse, because I didn’t take care of myself physically in any way. I thought it was fine to get four to six hours of sleep a night. I usually skipped breakfast and sometimes lunch too. Many days I just ate one giant meal after I got home from school and that was it. Plus my diet consisted mostly of things like frozen pizza and soda (yes, tons and tons of caffeine), which I guess is pretty normal for adolescents, but definitely not healthy. I wasn’t even really aware at the time of how unhealthy all this was, but I’m certain it’s the reason I had horrible stomach aches so frequently.

I’ve been remembering some of the ways I used to cope with these stomach aches and the anxiety that came along with them. For the most part, my coping skills back then were pretty unhealthy and I would not recommend them, but I’m going to list everything.

***
1) Probably my main coping mechanism was to dig my nails into my skin (usually the backs of my thumbs or other fingers) as a distraction from my stomach hurting. Not the worst form of self-harm, but it did sometimes leave marks that were embarrassing.

2) I skipped school a lot more than I should have because of feeling “sick” when I woke up in the morning.

3) Along the same lines, I went to the nurse’s office an abnormal amount of times and sometimes went home early from school. This fluctuated. I went through periods where I was in the nurse’s office almost every day, and other times it would be more like once a month.

4) I guess you could say skipping breakfast/lunch was a coping skill I used, although a really bad and counterproductive one. I was even afraid to drink anything at times and would end up dehydrating myself.

5) I would leave class to go to the bathroom just to calm myself down. Getting myself out of the classroom where I felt trapped would usually make me feel a lot better, and then I could convince myself that whatever was happening was mostly in my head. But obviously I could only do this one time per class, so I had to try to save it for when I really needed it. Sometimes I would break down early and then regret it later in the class.

6) In my notes for class, I would draw lines, each one representing a minute, for however many minutes were left in the class. I would watch the clock and keep telling myself “I can get through this next minute. I can get through this next minute” and then scribble through each minute line as the minutes passed.

7) I had a bunch of questions I asked myself to try to determine if I was actually ill, like "if I was home right now, would I still be feeling this way?"

8) I heavily relied on my friends. I was open with almost all of them about my phobia. Most of them understood, even if some didn’t grasp the full extent of the problem. My closest friends knew almost everything about it and were an amazing support system. It was so great to be able to talk to them and have them reassure me. They had mental health issues of their own, and we actually had a simple hand code to communicate with each other about how we were feeling (for when we were around a lot of other people, or when we were in class but sitting across the room from each other). Holding up a hand meant “are you okay?” or “what’s going on?” Then two fingers meant the person was sad, three fingers meant the person was fine, four fingers meant the person was anxious. One finger was the response that only I used. It meant “I feel sick” and everything implied along with that.

After a while we started using these numbers in our notes/emails and when speaking to each other too. I can remember many times answering the question “what’s wrong?” with “I feel one” or “oneness.” Even though “oneness” is basically a philosophy of unity/harmony to everyone else in the world, it will always make me think of feeling anxiety-related sickness.

Anyway, having that code and knowing that I usually had someone around who would understand how I was feeling was a big comfort to me.

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I would say numbers 5-8 are the only good responses, and #5 is iffy since it’s better to wait out your anxiety than flee the situation you’re in.

I so wish I had been aware of all the anxiety-reducing techniques I know now during those years. I know just making the changes to my diet and sleep schedule would have had such a huge impact on how I felt, and using affirmations, mindfulness, and breathing techniques would have helped with the rest.

But I would recommend telling friends if at all possible. Unless your friends are jerks and you know they would only use the information to make fun of you or torment you (in which case it might be a good idea to get some new friends), having them know takes so much pressure off. Before I started telling people, it felt like this huge weight/burden and this shameful secret I had to keep, and that tended to make the anxiety attacks even worse, feeling like I was not just trapped in the situation and in the feeling of anxiety but also trapped inside my mind, alone, with the secret of what was happening to me.

I still find that in any situation where I feel anxious, if I can say it out loud to the person I’m with, it helps diffuse a lot of the anxiety. And most people are understanding about it, many more than I would have imagined back when I tried to hide it.

In general, I was embarrassed by the way I acted a lot of the time in high school. I’m still embarrassed thinking back on some of these things. So I just want to say that if anyone reading this is in high school and feels this way, cut yourself some slack. Emetophobia and high school don’t mix well. You’re basically a superhero for every day you deal with both. Whatever you can do to get through it (aside from hurting yourself/others), it won’t be that big a deal in the long run. And college (where you have a little more freedom to design your schedule and can include breaks between your classes) is not nearly as terrible.