work trip

It’s been a while since I posted. I’ve been spending a lot of time thinking about posting. I finally went on that trip for work, and of course the plan was/is to talk about that – what went well and what didn’t. But it’s now been six weeks since it ended, and I wrote (literally) close to fifty pages in my journal about the experience, and I still feel like I don’t have a firm grasp on what I should or want to take away from the whole thing. The sort of “life lesson” – not that everything in life has to result in a life lesson, but this was so big that it feels like it should have changed me or my life in some fundamental way. Maybe that’s just a fantasy of the chronically anxious – “I did something terrifying and I handled it – aren’t I going to get anything out of it?!”

But nothing is really different, other than the fact that I’m not constantly thinking and worrying about this trip anymore. Which is strange in itself, because it took over my brain for so long. It was all-consuming. Almost every night before I fell asleep, I was going over some aspect of it in my head: imagining what I might say to people, what they might say to me, things I might have to do that I didn’t think I could do, what I’d wear, what I’d eat, how I’d get around, everyone I would have to see, how the flights might go, what the airports would be like, all the many ways things could go wrong. I probably should have attempted to stop obsessing, but it was so comforting, even something I looked forward to on some level. Now that I don’t need to do that anymore, it’s like there’s this giant void in my mind.

And I was prepared for that. I knew that when I no longer had this to dread and/or look forward to, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself. Part of me had been excited about it. It felt meaningful, to be forced by outside circumstances to live and interact with the world to an extreme. To an extent I could never force myself to. Now everything is simple again – calm and quiet, which is nice, but also dull. Time passing and normal routine and no Huge Event looming on the horizon to test my limits. I think if they had suddenly told us at the last minute to forget the whole thing, we weren’t going to do it anymore, I would have been miserable. Incredibly relieved, but also miserable.

In other words, I’m never satisfied. How can you be when you feel two completely opposite things at the same time? It reminds me (again) of what I’ve talked about here before, the connection between anxiety and excitement, between fear and the desire for what you fear. It does seem like the two frequently coexist in me.

I think if the trip had never existed, had never been proposed in the first place, I would be fine. I think I’m happier when my life is calm and quiet and dull. But with the alternative fresh in my mind, it’s very hard for me to let go of the fantasy of having a life that is non-stop excitement, intensity, and stimulation and becoming the type of person who can thrive in a life like that. I’m better off not thinking about it.

Anyway, now I’m home again, and I have all this restless energy left over, and I’ve been trying to direct it towards 1) being more productive at my job 2) writing and submitting poetry.

As for how the trip went, I would say pretty well, overall.

• The closer I got to the trip, the more I felt like the only way I could get through it was to be upfront with people about my anxiety and my limitations. Which I think is a very good idea in theory. Unfortunately, it got a little out of control to the point where I was probably revealing too much (and too quickly, since I was interacting with people who were essentially strangers). Which possibly means that a lot of people I work with now have a skewed idea about just how extreme my anxiety is. And it doesn’t matter that now my mind has settled down again and I’m behaving more normally, because that was their first impression of me, and it’s nearly impossible to correct a first impression.
• Other than that, I felt like the social interaction went better than I had expected. I’m not sure why I feel that way, because I avoided people and I was quiet and when I had to speak, I was almost always panicking that any second I would say something that would somehow ruin my entire life. But I didn’t say anything that ruined my entire life, and other people told me I was coming across as normal (because – see bullet point above – I wouldn’t stop talking about how socially awkward I was), so I’ll count it as a success.
• I had a hard time eating before or during work, which led to me feeling shaky and nauseous most of the time. In the evenings I would eat in my hotel room and feel a little better, then wake up the next morning feeling like shit again.
• Even with feeling sick so much of the time, I did not have any extreme panic attacks and only a couple minor (and short-lived) anxiety attacks.
• I slept better than I thought I would. I woke up early every morning because I was so paranoid that I would sleep through the two different alarms I had set. But it still worked out okay, because I was going to bed early too and didn’t have any trouble falling asleep.
• I was able to concentrate on training. That was one of my biggest worries, that I just wouldn’t be able to focus or retain any of the new information I was supposed to learn, so I was happy that wasn’t the case.
• I work with some incredibly nice people who (many times) went out of their way to make things easier for me. So I’m glad I was more honest about what I wanted/needed than I usually am. I just need more practice navigating the line between ‘self advocacy’ and ‘presenting my entire identity as Anxious Person.’
• There were no major issues with the actual traveling part. I still don’t like flying, especially taking off and landing. But by the time I was flying home I had gotten to the point where I almost felt at ease when we were actually up in the air. 12 flights in about four months, and I finally got a little bit desensitized.
• I’m alive? And still employed? And to my knowledge, I didn’t make anyone hate me. I’m pleased with that outcome.

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.