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.

exposure / limits

Some thoughts I had in response to this post on tumblr:


Love this. Super relevant to emetophobia and anxiety in general. I know it seems like every time you push yourself it has to go really well or else what was the point, but that’s not true. These experiences are still helping you recover and figure things out. If you think you can handle something and it turns out to be too much and causes an anxiety reaction, you will still survive it, and then you will know you need to take a smaller step first. Exposure isn’t an exact science; you won’t always get it right.

Also, sometimes when you have been anxious so long and have avoided everything, you’re not even sure what you like to do and what you don’t like to do. You could end up at an event where you’re not anxious, but you’re also not having a great time, and that doesn’t mean you made a horrible mistake. You could end up going to the movies several times and then realize ‘hey, I haven’t only been avoiding movies because of anxiety. I also find them really boring.’ It makes sense that you wouldn’t have known this before, because with an anxiety disorder you have this extra layer of fear obscuring your feelings. You have to work through the fear, and sometimes that means doing the same thing a few times until you are less anxious and can experience your true reaction.

traveling yet again / exposure

The sick relative that I went to visit at the end of May died earlier this month. It was of course sad but not at all unexpected. She had been sick for a very long time and was continuously getting worse, so at least she is not suffering anymore.

I kind of had this idea that I wouldn’t go back down to Virginia for the funeral, since I don’t share the consensus that funerals provide closure. I had gone to visit her one more time while she was alive, and that was what mattered. I dreaded the thought of having to go through the anxiety of the trip again. But I couldn’t stop thinking about my family, imagining them all going through this awful process without me, and the more I thought about it, the more I realized I didn’t actually find that version of the future believable. It was a weird feeling, knowing I just had to be there. Even though I was still going through my usual indecisive back-and-forth, part of me knew there was only one option and that no matter what ended up happening on the trip, I would be more miserable if I didn’t go. Because I would no longer be the person I want to be (or the person I am?).

So anyway, I went back down there for another long weekend. And this time, I went alone; my wife wasn’t able to go with me. I took a different flight route and went through two airports I had never been to before. I stayed with my family, both to offer support to them and to try to save money and avoid the hassle of a hotel (which was a terrible mistake, and I forgot being around my family for extended periods of time has a horrible effect on me, but whatever). I went to a wake/viewing and funeral, something I had not done since I was 13 (before my intense fear of death developed). I socialized with a ton of people, family and strangers (and family members I hadn’t seen in so long they were essentially strangers). I hung around my young nephews again. All of these things made me nervous and tense, but I didn’t have any panic/anxiety attacks.

When I think back over the past few months, I’m amazed. It doesn’t seem possible that all this has happened, especially in such a short period of time. I am always trying to motivate myself to create an exposure hierarchy and actually stick to it, and I don’t do it - more out of laziness than the fear of it not going well. But life stepped in and did it for me, even proceeding from an easy step (slow-paced planned trip to New York City by train with my wife) to a slightly harder one (fast-paced last minute trip by plane to Virginia with my wife, staying in a hotel) to the most difficult/stressful so far (fast-paced last minute trip by plane to Virginia alone, staying with my family). Throughout all this, the trip I have to take for work (which probably will be the most difficult of all) has been repeatedly postponed and is currently scheduled for mid-September. I definitely feel a lot more prepared for it and confident that I can handle at least some aspects of it, like the traveling.

And it’s not even just that I “handled” all this. Some parts of it gave me such a high. Particularly the last most challenging trip. I feel bad saying that, given the circumstances of why I had to make the trip, but getting on planes and rushing through airports alone trying to find my gate tapped into this part of me I don’t usually acknowledge. The part of me that wishes I was the complete opposite of who I am, someone who exudes confidence and has everything together. It’s really rare, but every once in a while I feel like I am that opposite-of-me person for a little while, and I always, always love it.

It reminds me of this post I wrote a long time ago (see here) about the idea that anxiety is actually a projection of, or in some way related to, the feeling of excitement. I want so much to be able to face any person, any situation, any challenge (and come away from each encounter with the certainty that I succeeded completely) that it makes everything more terrifying. It means so much to me, that fantasy - an unrealistic and probably unhealthy fantasy, I guess - of being perfect and extroverted and effortless and charming. I know I’m never going to be that person, at least not to the extent I want to be, because I can’t change my entire identity/personality. But it’s nice to have those brief moments where I feel like I am coming across that way to the people around me. And it’s also nice to view anxiety as, in some way, an indicator of my dreams and goals and not just as the sick/defective part of me.

CYEAT: Chapters 13 & 14

I finished the Cure Your Emetophobia and Thrive book. Chapter 14 is a short “that’s the book, thanks for reading, keep working, and tell your friends!” kind of chapter, so I decided to combine these last two into one post.

Chapter 13 is amazing, because it sums up everything the book has covered, it breaks it down into sections and easy to follow outlines, and it drives home the key points you want to remember. It’s almost like you could skip the rest, just read this chapter, and you’d still be getting most of what you need. I mean that in the best possible way and am not trying to belittle the rest of the book. I think it’s helpful with a book like this - to not have to reread the entire thing later on when you start to forget. To be able to go back to one chapter and have this great summary that allows you to quickly recall everything.

There were definitely things about this book that annoyed me - the way the writing style sounded like an infomercial at times, how some sections seemed to over-explain (like the chapter on the difference between stress and anxiety) while others didn’t get the attention I thought they needed (I would have liked to have seen much more on battling the social anxiety component of this phobia, but I suppose you can always supplement with a book specifically about social phobia), and the author’s overconfidence in the methods and emphasis on “cure.” I get the sense that you could never say ‘this program didn’t cure me’ without hearing in response that it was because you didn’t fully understand some part of it or didn’t work hard enough or didn’t do one of the exercises enough times. I guess that’s something that applies to most self-help books though. It’s not an attitude that appeals to me, but maybe other people feel differently and think the author lacks credibility if they don’t have that die-hard belief that their methods (and only their methods) will always work in the end (and if not, the fault lies with you).

I am not cured. Again, I am not convinced this phobia can be fully cured. On the other hand, I certainly haven’t put the effort into this program that the author recommends (which includes at least 6-8 weeks of continuing to follow the program once you have finished the book, and then starting all over if you still aren’t cured), so the author could still say I haven’t done enough, and there is no way for me to prove it will never cure me, just as there’s no way for him to prove it will.

But I’m going to stop being hung up on that word “cure” now, and putting that aside, the book contains a lot of incredibly helpful information. It’s certainly the best emetophobia-related book out there (we don’t have many options at this point in time, but still), and overall I would say it’s worth reading and having in your possession as a reference.

It has made me think a lot (most of those thoughts have been documented here) and given me ideas on what more I can do to make my life better. I’m sure I will keep going back to it, re-working exercises, trying to internalize the more rational thought processes I know I should have. Practice always helps. And revisiting always helps, because even if you have heard about or read the same ideas a hundred times (such as how important it is to counter negative thoughts with positive ones), there is something about encountering those ideas again that is inspiring and motivating. That reminds you, ‘oh yeah, I haven’t been using affirmations and I really wanted to try that’ or ‘I know working through an exposure hierarchy would help me so much; I should start again and not give up on it this time.’ It’s easy to lose sight of all the many options you have for improving or changing things when you’re busy living your day to day life and reacting to the world based on your current instincts or coping mechanisms.

improvement

The trip to Virginia was a complete success! I seriously can’t believe how well I handled it, especially with all the phobia “triggers” it included:

• Flying, which leads to worries about motion sickness (something I never have a problem with, but I always worry I will), other people getting motion sickness, and catching some illness from someone on the plane.
• Socializing frequently with people who may or may not be sick. I was only hanging out with my family, and they don’t know and/or understand and/or care about my phobia (we don’t really talk about anything emotional, so I am unsure who knows/understands what). So I could not rely on them to look out for me by warning me that they were sick or had been sick recently. It seemed like one of them might have a cold, so that was a little stressful, but nothing came of it. For all I know, it was allergies.
• Spending a lot of time in a hospital. I was mainly there to visit a relative who has cancer, so I was in the hospital with them for a few hours each day. I knew I couldn’t catch the diseases of the people around me, but I still felt “contaminated” by germs. Even hugging my sick relative felt unsafe, but I did it anyway. My parents tried to harass me into eating in the hospital cafeteria, but that was something I could not bring myself to do.
• Hanging out with my very young nephews, a one year old and a four year old. This probably stressed me out even more than the hospital. They were all over me, and the one year old even put his hand right on my lips as soon as I walked in the door. Plus they unpredictably cough on you, and every time they eat, I can’t stop thinking about how they don’t know the limits of what they can consume without being ill. On the other hand, they are so adorable and sweet, and I really had a great time with them. I hadn’t met the one year old yet, and I hadn’t seen the four year old since he was a baby, so he didn’t remember me and was excited to “meet” me and show me all his books.
• Spending long stretches of time away from my wife and my “safe space” (usually home, but in this case the hotel room). I would leave in the mornings and hang out with my family most of the day, not getting back to the hotel until the evening. I don’t spend that much time out in public by myself anymore (since I started working from home). Usually when I’m out somewhere for a whole day, my wife is with me.
• Eating while on vacation. This didn’t go quite as well as it did in New York City, because I avoided eating while around my family. But during the times it was just me and my wife, I was completely fine and able to eat normally. We bought a few safe snacks from a grocery store to keep in the hotel room just in case, but we didn’t even eat most of them. We mostly went out, and I got to have all the delicious food I have missed from my hometown that I hadn’t had in SIX YEARS, because when we went down there in 2011 I could barely eat anything.

I didn’t have any panic attacks or intense episodes of feeling “sick”. No feeling dizzy or crappy because I couldn’t eat. No having to cancel plans because of that. No inability to sleep. And not that much holding back from what I wanted/needed to do. I’m so glad that I went and was able to offer some support to my sick relative and the rest of my family.

Compare this to the way the trip went in 2011 (see post here), and I’m amazed at how much has changed in four years. And I wasn’t even aware of it! It’s so weird to have actual strong evidence that all the work I’ve put into getting better has actually gotten me somewhere. I have often felt like I’m not doing enough, but it has helped so much anyway. I think it helped just to make the commitment to learn to think a different way, because now, even when I lapse into old negative thought patterns, there is that sense that I am doing something wrong which leads to the motivation to get back on track.

It also helps that I take better care of myself physically now, specifically when it comes to eating habits. Trying to eat healthier, plus forcing myself as much as possible to eat regularly, on a normal schedule, has cut down on instances of feeling “sick” so much, and that of course means I don’t get anxious as frequently. Seriously. My stomach used to hurt all the time from going long periods of time without eating, and I just kept telling myself it was better and it was safer not to eat, that not eating had to lead to less stomach pain, or would ensure I was safe from getting sick even if I felt stomach pain. The reality is that it made me feel terrible, and then I wondered why I felt terrible all the time and experienced near constant anxiety because of it.

So I’m super pleased. If I can take trips without having some kind of meltdown, even when they are stressful or short or last-minute trips, that would be such an incredible improvement to my life. I want to be able to travel. My dream of eventually getting to Europe is seeming much more within my reach.

more traveling

The trip for work got pushed back again. Now they are saying maybe it will be a few weeks from now. It’s been at least a year since they first brought it up. The other day I was trying to say that this trip would be hanging over me the rest of my life, but I accidentally said “lives” instead. And you know, I think that’s more accurate. I’ll be reincarnated, some confused little kid thinking “I don’t even have a job! Why do I have to go on a business trip?”

But now another situation has come up where one of my family members is in very poor health, so I am having to go down to Virginia anyway, this weekend, to see them. I mean, I don’t have to in this case. It’s my choice. But it still doesn’t really feel like it is, because even though I want to see them, I don’t want to make this trip and am dreading it so much. I want to stay home and have things be normal.

I just have to keep reminding myself it’s important and I can’t be selfish all the time.

Plus there is another bright side to this. The trip is going to follow the exact route I’ll have to take when I go on the work trip (if that one ever actually happens), and since this one is a short trip over a weekend my wife can go with me. So it’ll be like a practice run, which I think will be really helpful.

All signs pointing to this being the right thing to do. And yet it still feels like a horrible decision made by someone who isn’t me, and I want to crawl into a cave where no one will ever expect or need me to do anything ever again.

As usually happens, my brain has already started assaulting me with extra irrational thoughts. “Your hands will only really be clean if you wash them in THIS sink. The other one’s no good.” “If you wear mismatching clothes to bed, you’ll get sick.” Things that make no sense, just little things that I guess make me feel like I am in control. Or could be in control, I should say, because I’m doing my best to ignore these thoughts. But it’s strange how they suddenly appear and feel absolutely true even though I can see how insane they are.

I’m hoping I’ll feel better once we leave and I have to start going through the motions of getting through this. The anticipation is always the worst part. I’m so used to my safe routine and it feels surreal to even imagine doing something else. But in reality, it probably won’t be that strange.

I mean, the NYC trip went so much better than I thought it would. Maybe this will be totally fine. Sometimes I think I am stuck in this mentality of thinking my anxiety is still as bad as it was a few years ago. That’s obviously not true. I think back to things I said or wrote during that time period and can barely remember what it was like to feel that way. I guess that’s part of the worry - that things got so terrible so fast, and it was so unexpected, and I am still not even sure why it happened. Part of me wonders if something will set it off again, as unlikely as that seems.

At least this trip will give me plenty more opportunities to try out the CYEAT book’s special technique for fighting negative thoughts.