Mindful Miles for #RWRunStreak

 

For 37 days between Memorial Day and July 4th, I conquered a mile a day! I did it! I’m so proud!

There was lots of griping on on Twitter about how exhausted I was and how my pace suffering. I skipped out on social plans or sleep to squeeze in a single, unenjoyable mile just to say I did it. I ran at 9:45 PM with a sunburn because I couldn’t break the streak after a lazy beach day.  I missed out on cross-training because on my normal cross-training days I was too tired after running. I watched the weather incessantly. My running plan had contingency plans for impending rain and thick humidity. My body hurt practically every day for a month. Also, there was so much laundry!

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And, for all the complaining, it was amazing! In fact, I feel like I could keep going! 

Earlier this year I wrote my declaration to running! I said, “I am a Runner” and reaffirmed my belief that there is so much more to running than miles or minutes. I realized that after over a decade of being unable to trust my body, I had the strength and ability to trust myself and my aspirations. I set goals, I remained committed, and, as a result, I grew stronger. I definitely gained strength during this running streak. My mile got stronger and faster, and my confidence was palpable.

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Sometimes I felt like Squidward when he said, “I sorta don’t feel like playing my clarinet today.” [Squidville, 2001]
During some particularly challenging runs, I wanted to stop the streak. I told myself it was arbitrary and pointless. I felt so drained. Somedays running was monotonous or I just wasn’t “feeling like it”. While my interest in running did not dissipate, there were days when my enjoyment or motivation to start definitely did. In those moments, I remembered the struggle and pride of relearning to walk (twice) and that I’ve done even more difficult things before. I always got my workout in!

Slowly and over time, I turned to mindfulness to propel me through my running streak. I used mindfulness to allow my body to move in ways that felt strong and natural. I listened to the cues my body was giving me. I reinvigorated my love for running. I realized my body can do some amazing if I set my mind to it! My running streak was dedicated to learning, practicing, and appreciating running mindfully. 

Here are some of my favorite mindfulness techniques that I practiced during my running streak:

  • Set an Intention. I set an intention for my run by focusing on why  I am running and what I want to gain from my run.  I decide before I leave, what I need from my run – fuel, energy, breath, strength, insight, space, etc. Often I set out for each run with a goal in mind. These goals typically motivate and fuel my run, but my intentions are less defined. Instead of focusing on time or distance, I try to focus on quality and effort. I allow less structured expectations and let myself “just run”. This mentality changes how I experience running. Zeroing in on my intentions helps me remember why I love running in the first place. It helps me be attuned to the experience of running – in the moment.
  • Be Present.  I am present when I focus on my breath, my body, or things I am observing. I try to notice three things I am feeling, hearing, seeing, and thinking while I run. Sometimes just the act of noticing these things helps ground me during my run.  When I’m present, I notice what hurts, what feels strained, and what feels strong. I don’t attribute weight or meaning to what I’m recognizing or the choices I am making about my “Right Now Run” (e.g., switching to intervals). I just allow myself to notice it, adjust if necessary, and keep moving. If I get distracted and my mind wanders I allow myself to notice that too, and then I refocus by giving my attention to the sensations of my body.
  • Count. I count steps, breaths, stop signs, crosswalks, anything! I try to focus on counting to 10 without losing my concentration. If I notice my thoughts drifting or I lose count then I start over.
  • Synchronize. I synchronize my running with my music or my breathing. The feeling of synchrony helps me set a pace that feels natural. Instead of fighting my body, I align my running with my body or music so I can feel motivated and strong.
  • Repeat a Mantra. I repeat mantras to myself to help me keep moving! I like words/phrases such as, “finish it”, “breathe”, or “relax”. I am an auditory learner so speaking these words in stride is an incredibly effective way to connect my body and my mind.

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    July 4, 2017 – #RWRunStreak Day 37!

I started the #RWRunStreak to recommit myself to running and to enjoy a new challenge. I finished with a sense of pride and a new set of mindfulness tools and skills.

I don’t recommend a running streak for weight loss (I gained weight!) or for distance work (I ran fewer miles, on average, than my “typical week”!). However, I do recommend it if you are up for a challenge, excited about improving your short distance runs, want to practice sticking with a goal that’s relatively low-stakes, and if you love running!

I’m excited to keep using these mindfulness tools and techniques for many more miles to come! Do you have mindfulness techniques that you love? Feel free to share them below! I’m excited to read your comments and thoughts!

Navigating This “In the Middle” Feeling (Take 2)

I love Pride month! Really I do. I think it’s fun. I think it’s necessary. I think it is reaffirming. I think it’s challenging. I think often it’s not really a space for everyone. I think it’s deeply-seated in whiteness.  I think there’s nothing that says every person who identifies with the ‘LGBTQQIP2SAA’ community needs to be “gung-ho” pride. I have a lot of thoughts on pride.

That being said, I also really enjoyed the unbelievable opportunity to march in the Boston Pride Parade on June 10, 2017, with Keshet – a national organization that works for full LGBTQ equality and inclusion in Jewish life. I didn’t plan to march in the parade, but I can truly say, this experience (was overwhelming) was wonderful. [Side note: Soon I’ll write more about being Jewish and being queer.] Connecting these two important, and individually significant, identities at Boston Pride was really unbelievable! At some points, I was uncomfortable with all the attention but I also experienced moments of true pride and comfort – I could tell because my head was held high and I felt calm. In “Daring Greatly”, Brene Brown says, “Courage starts with showing up and letting ourselves be seen.” As I was marching in the Boston Pride Parade I felt courageous. It was a lot, but it was also kind of the best!

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Happy Pride!

Pride was very timely for me this year. It was really amazing and also exactly when I didn’t need it to be – hence, this “in the middle” feeling!

Here’s why: I often don’t tell people I’m queer when I first meet them.

I don’t tell people because more often than not it shouldn’t matter. Unless we’re dating, my sexual preferences and what is attractive to me isn’t really important.  It’s just that often my queerness doesn’t mesh with my new relationships. In fact, I keep my queerness a significant, safe distance from most of the important people in my life. I can’t figure out how to make room for my queerness. Instead, I straddle my “real life” and my “queer life” very intentionally deciding when to allow aspects of either to seep into the other side – again this “in the middle” feeling.

I feel like I’m best at “doing queerness” with other queer people. Often on the outside, my romantic relationships look as “typical” as can be.  Lately, I have been grappling with the authenticity of my queer identities because of this tension. I often feel I’m not “queer enough” and also like I’m stumbling hardcore at navigating the nuances of dating mostly straight, cisgender, males. Most days, I agree to throw the social script out the window and just figure out what works for us, but sometimes it’s hard to shut out all the social pressure and expectations.

Then, I see tweets like this:

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For some reason, when I read this tweet, I felt as if there was a misalignment with my actions, beliefs, and identities. I started judging and shaming myself. I was disappointed that I was spending (any) energy questioning my queerness when I absolutely know better. I was also disappointed that I was spending energy suppressing my queerness to fit into a more traditional role (i.e., separating my queer identities and my involvement in the queer community from my relationships). I just felt really torn.

Externally, in my personal life, my queerness is not the most prominent aspect of my identity and from the outside looking in, most other queer people wouldn’t immediately or easily catch me with their “gaydar”.  However, as a writer, this niche has awarded me a space on various platforms to publically discuss my identities, the challenges I’m encountering, and educate people about asexuality. For that, I am so very thankful.

I’ve been reflecting a lot on queerness lately. I’ve even asked if this statement, ‘If I have to use labels, I identify as asexual and panromantic, but I can’t stop talking about my “Future Jewish Husband” and children”, makes me a “bad queer“. I’ve spent the majority of the last two years writing about asexuality and why it’s important for people who are asexual to come out (if they feel safe). And, I believe this wholeheartedly.

Yet, I can’t help but feel like as a queer person at best I’m an outsider and at worst I’m an impostor.

I know, I know, I know that “queerness” isn’t exclusively about actions. I have even written about how behavior does not have to dictate orientation, as asexuality is about how someone feels not what someone does.  I’ve said that, “The bottom line for me is this: asexuality is real, and rather than questioning and quizzing someone about their sexual identity or recollecting all their past actions to try and make sense of their life, from your perspective, when they come out, the best thing you can do is believe them and support them. ” I still believe this!

It’s just that it’s getting harder and harder for me to feel like I belong anywhere.

A friend asked us to reflect today on the one-year anniversary of the Orlando Pulse nightclub shooting. She said, “Are we making space to listen to LGBTQIA+ folks? Really listen? Like, not just go to the parade and party with us, but listen to our fears, hopes, vulnerabilities, struggles, pain, joy, and all the other things that make us truly human? Are we only supporting white LGBTQIA+ folks, or are we actively including queer folks of color? Religious and non-religious? Able-bodied and those living with disabilities? Genderqueer/fluid/non-binary? Folks who don’t give a damn about marriage? It’s essential that we recognize the FULL spectrum of our fabulous community and get real about who we are. Join me in reflection, and then join me in action. ❤️💛💚💙💜” This really resonated with me.

The first time I wrote this post, a year ago,  I was grappling with my identities as both a fervent ally and a member of the queer community. I felt like I was stuck in the middle; I wanted to be a part of the queer community and in so many ways I felt like I was, yet my identities were not immediately reflected in the queer spaces I was frequenting so allyship felt safer.

I’m still in the middle. I’m in the middle of wanting my identities to be recognized yet not sharing them, figuring out how to “fit in” in the queer community yet keeping the community separate from my other important relationships and identities, and deciding when it’s safe and matters to be out. I’m in the middle of feeling both “too queer” and “not queer enough” all the while fully acknowledging I would never judge someone else’s belonging the same way I’m scrutinizing over mine.

The middle is a hard place to be. The beauty is that within the hardship is where you get to make the important choice to lean into discomfort, pain, and difficulty and embrace vulnerability or give in to disconnection and disengagement and abandon your authentic self. Which is scary! So, I’ll waiver in the middle grappling and overthinking until a gust of wind sways me or something…

I am a “Runner”

I never identified as a “runner” until someone else named it for me. I described my weekly mileage, the feeling of invincibility, the restlessness I feel when I’m not running, and they named it – “you’re a runner.”

Over a year later, I still wasn’t convinced. My friend even explained to me, “You’re a runner. I’m just someone who runs.” The differentiation wasn’t clear to me. One seemed affiliated with an identity whereas the other was associated with a series of actions or behaviors. I’ve been grappling with being a runner (tossing around the hashtag (#runner) and seeing how I “stack up” among other people whom I consider to be “runners”) for the last fourteen weeks. I’ve lamented over long runs, skipped out on social plans to get up early and run, thrown tantrums during taper week, and logged several hundred miles.

I am a “runner”.

A year ago, I wrote that I didn’t care that I didn’t finish a half marathon. In the grand scheme of things, I didn’t. Today though, I completed my redemption run! I finished the race that got the best of me a year ago, and I got a PR! 

I told a friend who asked me about the race the following:

Well, it was perfect. I felt amazing. I was so strong and confident. I didn’t psych myself out at all! My mindset this time was so different for the training and everything – 3rd time’s a charm I guess! Hard to explain, but I learned a lot this time around. I am overall so much healthier than any other time. I like that feeling – it took a lot of work. I am really proud. I’m just excited to feel so great. It’s refreshing!

I never thought I’d talk about running like that! These days I rely on expected consequences of running like “runner’s highs” and the sense of camaraderie I feel when another runner nods at me when I’m out on my course. I talk about my workouts and training goals using lingo like “negative splits” and “form drills” because I know what those things mean! Settling into running as a hobby as opposed to a compulsion or as an act of punishment/retaliation has been a long, difficult journey. I’m so proud of where this journey has taken me!

It’s never easy to train for a race when you’re prone to compulsions, have a chronic physical illness, and have a history of regimented behaviors around food and exercise. This type of training took a special amount of conscientiousness. Trust me, intentional focus on my behaviors and my motivation, and a healthy relationship with food and exercise were essential to my success.

As I was reflecting on the past fourteen weeks of training and mental preparation, objectively there are several things that made a difference for me.

Here’s my recipe for success:

Ingredient Specifics Dosage
Food High Protein and Healthy Fats; No Carbo Load 3X Every Day
Water  Just Water. 12 oz.; 3X Every Day – Or More!
Caffeine Coffee w/ Truvia and Milk No More Than 2 Per Day; Not After 11 AM
Sleep White Noise Machine Allocate 8 Hours Per Night
Weighted Blanket Use When Sleeping Every Night
“Naked” Runs No Tracking, No Timing. Just Run! Once a Week
Amazing Grass Supergreens and Fiber Before Food or Coffee 1X Every Day
Alcohol Any None 2 Weeks Prior to Race

[ Note – Inevitably, different strategies will help others feel successful. This approach worked for me. Find what works for you and stick with it!]

Primarily I believe I was successful because I stayed committed to my training plan, forgave and forgot missed or bad workouts, and celebrated the small victories as well as the big ones. And also because… cross-training. I can’t stress this enough. Cross-training made ALL THE DIFFERENCE.
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A lot changed for me during this training season. For example, rather than simply thinking of food as a necessity after a long run to replenish lost calories, I started relying on a consistent strategy for meals so that I could feel nourished and energized for my workouts during the week. The mentalities, “calories in, calories out” and, ” I run so I can eat” were both replaced by the simple, yet sometimes hard to digest (pun intended), concept that food is fuel. I ate food that made my body feel good and strong. I used my bullet journal to keep track of my meals and sleeping patterns; this mindfulness strategy helped me stay accountable to my training goals.

While there were several concrete ingredients to my success, on a subjective level there were also critical connections, realizations, and mindset changes that helped me feel successful.

For example, during one of my more difficult runs rather than struggling through, trudging along, and wondering “Will I finish?”, somewhere along the way, I started to think, “I will finish!”. This epiphany hit me like a breath of fresh air; it felt light, crisp, and perfectly necessary. I can’t quite explain it, but this realization empowered my mind and my body. I finally knew I could do it; there was no doubt in my mind that I would finish the run even if it was incredibly challenging. From that moment on, my training felt lighter and less burdensome. A heavy hunch that I might fail was lifted from my mind, and I felt like I could trust myself and my body in a way I never experienced before.

In that moment, running no longer felt like an obligation. It felt like it was a part of me – like a feeling rather than a task. In that moment, mileage or minutes didn’t matter anymore. I learned that I don’t have to race every run and often I’ll be better in the long run (pun again) if I listen to my body and respect all the cues it’s giving me about how to feel and be my best.

That was the moment I became a “runner”.

Changing my thinking during that run granted me confidence. Moving forward, I knew I was capable of accomplishing whatever I set my mind to – as long as I was consistent and intentional. The plan mattered that’s undeniable, but it didn’t matter just and only because it was “the plan”. It mattered because it was the right combination of training, self-care, and confidence – it was my recipe for success.

I did not experience that kind of freedom when I prepared for or ran my other races. Now, rather than running to grasp a sense of control, or running out of compulsion, I run because I want to and because I believe in my own strength! I run because I can.

I no longer see running as just a test of endurance. It is also a test of my preparation and self-care, and I am always going to be up for that challenge!

 

13 Thoughts on “13 Reasons Why”

I’ve been angry about “13 Reasons Why” since I started watching it four days ago. I watched the first three episodes with an eagerness to find out what happened next. However, I quickly realized this wasn’t a show for me. I felt compelled to finish as quickly as possible (I just wanted it to be over!); I never should have watched this show.

For me, it went from bad, to pretty tough, to unbearable in 13 LONG hours.

I did some reading after I finished the first season, and I learned that others shared my frustration, anger, and disappointment. Many (like me) found it triggering and inappropriate. Lots of people thought the show was glamorizing suicide. I felt like it was trivializing it!  I didn’t appreciate the script’s several remarks about staging suicide as a way to “get rid of” challenging classmates or as the solution for other teens who were also struggling.

I also had some conversations with friends which helped direct my anger and hurt toward something more productive. Our subsequent conversations about suicide prevention, access to resources, and the types of conversations we want to have moving forward forced me to compile my racing thoughts in some (semi) coherent way. These conversations gave me space to share what was on my mind, to feel heard, and to listen. For that, I am thankful.

Still, though, I can’t stop thinking about “13 Reasons Why”, and it’s nothing good.

So, here are my 13 Thoughts on “13 Reasons Why”:

  1.  The series could have been promising as a film. However, dragging out the story of a teen’s suicide for 13 hours was really unnecessary.
  2.  The way the show depicted several of the themes (i.e., sexual assault, bullying, dating/romantic relationships, self-harm, depression, familial abuse, LGBTQIAA+/identity, and substance use/abuse) was way too much/too real for those of us who can relate closely to what the characters experienced. Where the hell were the trigger warnings?!?!
  3.  For folks who cannot relate personally to the themes in the show, it was an ineffective way to evoke empathy from the audience or to help them “understand”.
  4. Top researchers on suicide prevention found that “risk of additional suicides increases when the story explicitly describes the suicide method, uses dramatic/graphic headlines or images and repeated/extensive coverage sensationalizes or glamorizes a death.”  First, nobody needed to see that. Second, it was triggering. Third, what kind of ideas or rationalization did that scene spark for folks who were already considering suicide or self-harm, or weren’t but now saw it as a viable option? [p.s. there has been a spike in calls to mental health helplines since the show aired]
  5.  Did the producers even read the guidelines on safe and responsible reporting on suicide?!?!
  6.  Why was there no material addressing adolescent mental health or substance use/abuse? Especially when it comes to adolescents, one in five have (or will have) a serious mental illness and it’s correlated with suicidal ideation/action.
  7. Why didn’t the show present any alternative to suicide or an example of successful help-seeking? Why didn’t they discuss what happens after someone attempts to end their life by suicide, but survives? How does someone move forward from that?
  8. Why didn’t one person ask Hannah directly if she was considering suicide? Effective suicide prevention techniques such as QPR suggest that “asking the question” can be a critical step toward reducing suicidal behaviors and saving lives. QPR stands for Question, Persuade, and Refer — the 3 simple steps anyone can learn to help save a life from suicide. Trust me, hearing this question is crucial.
  9. There are SO many resources such as the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline, Imalive.org, Crisischat.org, The Trevor Project, and the Crisis Text Line.  Why weren’t these options made available after every episode – especially when teens are using phones, browsing the Internet, and participating in social media more than any other generation?!
  10. This show was really a missed opportunity to connect with young people who may relate to the characters, themes, or experiences.
  11.  Suicide is never about placing blame. Never. It’s also not selfish or the “easy way out”.
  12. What kind of twisted world do we live in where an acceptable, palpable cliffhanger for a show about teen suicide is whether another character may also, potentially, die by suicide? That’s not enticing or captivating. That’s horrific.
  13.  Ultimately, my review is as follows: it was a big, offensive, triggering flop with some good music selections.

I am not recommending this show to any human.

Finally, if you need to talk, about anything, I absolutely welcome dialogue; I want to know what you’re experiencing. Comment below!

If you or someone you know needs help, visit the suicide prevention resources page on The Mighty. 

The Truth About A Spoonie Surge

I’m flying!

For the past four days I’ve felt practically excellent! I ran farther and faster than I’m used to, my pain is tolerable, I feel nourished and well rested, and my anxiety is relatively quiet!

Today, someone asked me how I was doing. I excitedly said, “I’m good!”

They looked shocked. My typical response is “Okay [sigh]” or “I’m good, but tired.” So, they asked me, “What’s going on?” I replied that I’m just good and followed with, “it must be a surge”.

A surge for me is when everything falls into place. I am catapulted up just a bit higher than usual. My disposition is literally sunny and optimistic. I basically feel unstoppable, and I do ALL the things. I’m super productive, high energy, attentive, and efficient. I’m like a bolt of electricity [yep – I went there!].

I don’t usually wonder why a surge happens, – it could be the weather, a good conversation, a restful night’s sleep – but especially after a few days I always worry about when it’s going to end, and how hard the crash will be.

You see, if I ride a surge for too long, there are consequences.tumblr_nskfoej3891qzbifxo2_r1_500

Usually these consequences are the result of me pushing my body too far. When things feel good, I feel like I could literally burst through a brick wall without even a scrape or a bruise. I almost always challenge myself too much on good days. I almost always forget to respect my body’s limitations and needs. It always feels good in the moment – I like to feel invincible.

At certain turning point, usually at the climax and right before I start my descent toward an inevitable crash, the idea of how badly my actions are going to hurt comes into my cognitive awareness. A mental space once occupied by the joy of feeling light and energized turns to a cyclical sludge-like head fog. My anticipation of the “crash” [which sounds something like, “It’s going to be so bad I’m going to have to call out of work. Ugh. Whatever. It’s not going to be that bad; I’ll just power through and be “fine”. I’m always fine.” on a loop] is almost always an accurate prediction of how badly I’m actually going to feel. It usually feels like a Mac truck ran over me – twice. That’s how I often describe how much it hurts when I finally find the ground again.

I can get caught in the trap of a good day, overdo it, and tumble dramatically into a “typical” day or even a flare pretty easily if I’m not careful.

After a while, my mind starts to play its own twisted version of self-sabotage. It plays a game of second guessing and trying to precisely identify when the tides will change and the calm will become the storm. During these moments, I think things like, “do I feel as good as I think I feel?”, “This is the peak; it’s all downhill from here.”, or even “I don’t deserve to feel this good.”

When you’re a spoonie, you have to simultaneously think, “how can something that feels so thrilling also be foreshadowing something so bad?”, “I can’t fully enjoy this because I’ll pay for it later”, and, “I can’t just sit around impatiently waiting for the pain to come back. I need to capitalize on this opportunity and do all the things because I feel so good!” Sometimes on a good day I don’t even remember those seemingly interminable stretches of pain – the ones I thought would never end. Other times, I’m sure the good day won’t last, but also I definitely don’t want to be miserable.

I’m not asking for my pain to come back! I’m just sure that it will.

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How do I reconcile the ping-pong-like thoughts in my mind?  It is literally mind boggling.

If left unaddressed, these thoughts can spark some anxiety. Anxiety sparks a need for control. A need for control sparks compulsions. Compulsions, right now, look like increased exercise and attention to food. Increased exercise and attention to food result in exhaustion and pain. Exhaustion and pain cause a need for more sleep. Sleeping while anxious and in pain is an incredible challenge. Which, ultimately means that I’ll be perpetually anxious and exhausted, and possibly risk a flare up until the next time I catch a surge. Which could be weeks or months, and that ambiguity, that yearning, causes me more anxiety.

But, in the meantime, I’m going to soar for as long as I can! Today I feel good! We’ll see what tomorrow brings!

 

 

#ThisIsWhatAnxietyFeelsLike and The Power of Knowing I’m Not Alone

At their core, people want to belong and feel purposeful. We crave connections with each other — to something larger than ourselves.  

In the age of social media, Twitter and blogging often welcome that type of intimacy. I frequently find that my online friends “get it”. I don’t have to explain myself when I tweet about chronic pain or feeling like a Mac Truck ran over me. I don’t have to justify my spinning thoughts even though I feel crazed and like it’s not normal. Often, I recognize my values and my identities reflected in the topics other people are writing about or the pithy remarks they’re Tweeting. These connections exemplify for me how to elevate and insert my voice into important conversations. It makes me feel less alone and gives me some justification for how necessary my (and others’) writing is!

For the sake of connection, finding #ThisIsWhatAnxietyFeelsLike was so important to me. I follow the creator, Sarah Fader, on Twitter, and for the better part of a year our lived experiences of chronic pain and anxiety have converged via the Twitter sphere. For me, reading these Tweets all weekend was incredibly empowering and also very overwhelming.

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For the most part, talking about anxiety, real anxiety, is taboo. I often talk about my worries, and what causes me stress, but the real crippling everyday feelings that occupy my life and mind, such as the heavy feeling of ambiguity, the frenetic feeling associated with not having a plan, or my obsession with time that makes me fear being late, are almost always off limits. By not talking about these anxieties and my feelings, and consequently devoting painstaking effort to appear put together, I’m bolstering the facade and mindset that minimizes and stigmatizes mental illness. If we all devote more energy to talking about anxiety, we can find solace in the well-deserved feeling of relief we experience when we learn that we’re not alone in life’s expeditions.

The hashtag #ThisIsWhatAnxietyFeelslike took my Twitter by storm this weekend. It was second only, possibly, to the Grammys! While at first, the possibility of contributing to this hashtag felt crusting to me, after a while I found that even just reading the Tweets was really reassuring! I could relate to folks’ feelings of inferiority in relationships and accomplishments, the overwhelming uncertainty and dread about sending text messages and emails, the fear that I’m overreacting or imagining how bad something really is, and the constant sensation that my mind is playing tricks on me.

I didn’t tweet anything using the hashtag #ThisIsWhatAnxietyFeelsLike for several days. I wasn’t sure how to put my thoughts into 133 characters or less. Actually, the task itself gave me anxiety! At times, reading the posts made me feel like I couldn’t breathe. Except I also felt moments of relief and sincere connection. The subsequent intimacy and connection to others that I gained by reading people’s responses and realizing that I’m not alone is no more dangerous than avoiding my feelings and experiencing my story in isolation.

I’m ready to write now; the words are spilling out of me!

This Is What My Anxiety Feels Like

It feels like the sense of  invincibility that comes from attempting to do it all and simultaneously avoid whatever is actually pending and important. It feels like unstoppable energy, and confidence that accrues from the electric feeling in my fingers and toes when I’m fueled solely by caffeine and adrenaline — it’s like possibility and efficiency are bubbling out of me! It feels like yearning for the sense of pride that is practically palpable from  beating the odds, or defying the expectations. It feels like feeling normal is temporary and maintaining that buzz requires believing I’m in control when I’m absolutely out of control. It feels like every time things feel actually fine, that feeling quickly diminishes and is replaced by intense, immobilizing sadness and isolation. It’s like in moments where I feel like I’ve “found me” I too quickly remind myself that this won’t last long. Usually this feeling lasts just about as long as it takes to take a deep, satisfying breath and recognize that for a moment I can breathe again. That realization makes even a glimpse seem like I’m watching someone else’s life from the sidelines. Anxiety makes me feel like an observer in my own life.

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Control

At its core, my anxiety is all about control. Perhaps it’s because I can recall so many times when I didn’t get to be in control of my life [read: abuse & chronic pain – although I can’t get into that right now]. I always fight my environment and circumstances to feel in control; it’s comforting, reliable, and trustworthy – except not really. It’s actually so deceptive. It’s a made up, abstract concept. Control reveals it’s malicious self when I’m not looking. When I feel like everything is finally manageable, the perception of control laughs in my face, and shows me how wrong I actually am [read: every excuse I ever had about compulsive exercise and not being hungry – more on that soon]. Control is a falsity. It’s a mirage. And, since I’m compulsive I literally get trapped in a vicious cycle of catching and chasing control. Since as early as I can recall needing control, I can identify how almost all of my attempts to ascertain control were various forms of self-harm. Most recently, it looks like excessive exercise and compensatory, disordered eating behaviors. Craving control isn’t glamorous, and any threat to that poses a likelihood for a compulsion to kick in – a false sense of manufactured control.

Overthinking

My axiety makes me feel like I can’t stop. I keep myself busy to avoid attending to the spinning thoughts in my head. I’m always thinking so quickly, so often, so intensely. It’s hectic, more appropriately chaotic, It’s also exhausting. Mostly though, it’s really really really overwhelming.

Sometimes it feels like I’m in a room and the walls are all my thoughts. If I could find some way out, a way to break down the walls, a way to push past the barriers that are my thoughts, I’d escape into fresh, crisp air. I’d be able to breathe again.

I’m just thinking too much about everything! I spend too much time reconsidering a conversation with a friend, trying to decide when to send a text so it won’t interrupt people, rereading sent emails for typos and potential misinterpretations that cannot be rectified anyway, worrying that what I submit is barley good enough (that I can only fool people for so long – so therefore rereading and questioning myself until I make myself literally sick), observing and responding to my perceptions of social dynamics, I could go on and on (clearly)!

I want to slow down. I want to pull up on the breaks and tell my head “STOP”. I grapple constantly with this paradox, when I’m not working (and I’m doing something for me) my mind is spinning thinking about all the things I need to be doing.  And then I start thinking faster, allocating every minute and attempting to convince myself it will be okay. It feels like a frenzy, like if I don’t harness my thoughts I won’t be able to turn off the anxiety. Conversely, when I start working I can’t even focus on what I’m working on because I’m thinking about a million, minimally important, other things.  

thoughts-v-words

I Need Air

My anxiety is like when you’re swimming. It’s like that precise moment right before you come up for air. The anticipation of a deep breath is quickly quenched by a satisfying inhale. However, if this action is repeated, for example if I were to quickly dart back under the water, then the repetition of anticipation and ascertainment may be associated with a feeling of never getting enough of what you need or incessant wanting. So, the gasp of air may be nearly enough to sustain your stroke and stamina but not to fully satisfy your desire. 

My anxiety is fueled by an insatiable want for full, deep, satisfying breath of air! And, as I relentlessly seek out this feeling of serenity I’m coming up against tall, sturdy walls of abruptness and urgency instead

Truth Time

Life is full of messy, uncomfortable, painful moments. And most of the time, we’re totally unprepared for how “real” life is about to get. It sneaks up on us, and then avoidance becomes our best alibi. Most of us are more comfortable staying a safe distance away from ourselves and our feelings – it’s easier than doing the work of reuniting our actions, intentions, and feelings. However, in those difficult moments we must practice balancing the opposing feelings of being fully present and running away. That’s scary! Yet, those are the moments in which we grow. We grow when we lean in to moments of discomfort and vulnerability. The anticipation is bound to be terrifying and reason enough to avoid disclosure at all costs, but in the end it may be relieving.

Feeling so deeply, being present in a place of hurt or pain, and embracing your own truth can leave you breathless. It’s brave. You may even find solace in sharing your story and discovering the power of knowing you’re not alone!

Want to participate? Tweet using the hashtag #ThisIsWhatAnxietyFeelsLike or follow Sarah Fader on Twitter to see what others are saying!

6 Thoughts About Girls Night Out – The Morning After Edition

1. Thin privilege exists

If you think thin privilege doesn’t exist read this and this. If you think thin privilege doesn’t exist try losing 50 pounds, putting on a tight skirt, and becoming an automatic magnet for guys in the club to grind up on you – unless there are skinnier girls around you. If you think thin privilege doesn’t exist, look around.  Also, the bar tender called me tiny. That NEVER happened before.

2. How did we get in without paying a cover?

The trick is to stand in the doorway and be incredibly indecisive until the bouncer loses their patience and lets you in for free. Also, A) Thin privilege B) We’re girls – my feminism is cringing at this right now.

3. If you go out and you didn’t get someone to buy you a shot, you didn’t try hard enough

Again, my feminism is cringing, but also such #LifeGoals. Also, why did we drink Fireball?!?!

Next up: how to tell if a guy is worth it by the type of drink he buys you.

4. Domino’s Pizza at 2 AM is the only proven way to avoid a hangover 

10/10 would do it again. But actually the results of my personal, non-biased, scientific study suggest that Domino’s Pizza at 2 AM after a night of drinking significantly reduces the risk and severity of a hangover by at least 95%.

5. Does dancing burn calories? 

Everything hurts. Literally everything. The tips of my toes hurt! I feel like I worked out for HOURS! Everything hurt while I was dancing – until I was drunk. When I was drunk, it didn’t hurt anymore. And so, I danced more. Now, everything hurts. Was it worth it? Probably.

6. I need to go to more queer bars

Getting drunk, dancing, and making out with guys is basically the standard fare for a night out at a straight club. Which is a totally fun set of activities, but also it gets old fast. Queer clubbing is WAY more fun – there’s so much more to anticipate! There’s more diversity. There are less guys just trying to get a quick hookup. There’s more color! Also, the music is better.

Also, I learned a lesson last night: The key to life is patience. Don’t guzzle, just sip.

And, here’s one more thought: Is it “girls night” or “girls’ night”? – It’s girls because we were a group of girls going out; we (the girls) don’t own the night. Except we did, and we always do. The verdict is undecided.