I write two completely different and unrelated blogs. The other day, however, they collided. A throw-away line by a friend had a big impact on me, both as an anxiety sufferer and as someone who is trying to live an alternative lifestyle. Yesterday I used her line in my other blog; today I'm using it in this one.
My friend suffers from multiple food intolerances and she said to me on Monday that she doesn't like to tell people what she can't eat, rather what she can eat. I found inspiration in that.
My relationship with anxiety has been up and down and weak and strong over the years. Five years ago, I went on a family holiday which involved two day cruises. There was a certain amount of anxiety but it wasn't insurmountable. Three months later, I crashed into a heap, after being well for five years, and could barely walk out the front door. Of course, I had no choice but to do so but, every time I did, I experienced severe anxiety.
At this point I don't think I could manage a day cruise but I can certainly leave home - especially to do routine things - without anxiety. To get back to my friend's point, there are things I can do now that I couldn't do four years ago. There are also things I'm yet to be able to do but I'd rather focus on how far I've come than on what I still have to do.
Like a lot of people I have a "bucket list". At the moment, there are a great number of things on it that I couldn't manage. My husband and I were chatting earlier today and he mentioned a restaurant in the city he'd like to take me to. As the conversation progressed and we talked about various things we'd like to do or try in our own city, I said to him that I'd like to create an "Adelaide Bucket List". Most of the things I'd put on there would be things I could do now.
I don't want to lament all the things I've missed out on; I want to be too busy doing what I can do. Maybe one day I'll do the other things, maybe not. Whatever the case, I don't want to feel as if I sat around waiting for my life to begin or to get better. The most inspirational people I know are the ones who are restricted in some way but still fill their days doing what they can on that particular day. My friend's line of "I tell people what I can eat" is a metaphor for that.
Cheers.
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
Thursday, June 6, 2013
Running Screaming from the Train
Last weekend, my husband, son and I went to The Ghan's open day. I'd long been curious to see this luxurious train.
When we first got to the train station we had to line up. It was a long line. It was even longer than it first appeared because it snaked around portable fencing. I don't like waiting in long lines; it makes me anxious. I don't like feeling trapped and waiting in long lines makes me feel trapped. On second viewing, it wasn't too bad because I could see an escape. No one was forcing me to go on The Ghan so I could get out of line any time I needed.
The time spent in line went quickly. They were getting people on-board efficiently. While we waited, we amused ourselves by flirting with the baby in front; my son and I were competing to see who could make him smile. My son won; babies like him. I also tried to observe the people in line in front of me; people watching is one of my favourite activities when I'm in public. A couple a few metres in front of us were having a quarrel.
One of my followers on Twitter asked if I could write more about mindfulness. Truly, I don't know if I do it "right" or not; I don't even know if there is a "right" way of doing it. Standing in line I was feeling anxious; it was low level but it was there, nonetheless. Consequently, I was making a concerted effort to stay in the moment. Anxiety is the fear of what may happen - a fear of something in the future. Mindfulness keeps one planted firmly in the present. "I'm quite nervous standing in line here so I'm going to put my attention into watching people in line." If I'm looking at what people are wearing, who's in which family, how many children each family has etc, I can't be thinking about the sick feeling in my stomach. I know it's more complicated than that and I use it quite differently when I meditate but when I'm anxious I use my own modified version.
We finally made it into the train. The first carriage was fine. It was red class; the least expensive. We sat in the big comfortable chairs and imagined what it might be like to travel that way. After the first carriage, things got sticky for me. The train was full of people, all of whom were sitting in seats, reading menus and looking into private rooms in the more expensive gold and platinum classes. And the train was full; there were people from start to finish. And we weren't moving. We were just standing in a claustrophobic narrow corridor in a stationary train, not moving a millimetre. A recipe for the mother of all panic attacks.
There were two things I needed to do immediately. The first one was to plot my escape. I know this is "safety seeking" behaviour and I shouldn't but I do. So there. I looked up and down the corridor. Chockers. There didn't seem to be a way to escape. I told myself that I was thin and that, if I really needed to get out, I could clamp my hand over my mouth, dash through the crowd, jostling people as I went, shouting, "I'm going to be sick!" I figured that would make people move. I knew, however, once I'd worked out an escape route I wouldn't have to use it so it was immediately labelled "Plan Z".
The second was to be mindful of where I was and what was happening around me. I began looking around, trying to notice my surroundings and listen to conversations and other noises. As I did so, I could feel the wave of panic subside into something less threatening. It was a bleak and rainy day so I watched the raindrops roll down the window of the carriage I was in and studied the carriages of the train opposite. As I did so, the line moved forward bit by bit.
Then I got a distraction I wasn't expecting. The man in line in front of me turned and remarked, "You wouldn't want to be claustrophobic, would you?" I'm sure he'll always rue the moment he chose to do that because I replied, "As a matter of fact, I am and am feeling very uncomfortable at the moment." Interestingly enough, the conversation that ensued between us, comparing our most claustrophobic moments actually settled my anxiety. The only explanation I can think of is that I was so caught up in the conversation I didn't focus on how I felt.
Anyway, The Ghan is awesome. I'd love to do a trip on it one day. I don't think I want to be cooped up in a moving train for the time it takes so I think I still have much ground to cover until the day I climb on-board, platinum ticket in one hand and champagne in the other.
When we first got to the train station we had to line up. It was a long line. It was even longer than it first appeared because it snaked around portable fencing. I don't like waiting in long lines; it makes me anxious. I don't like feeling trapped and waiting in long lines makes me feel trapped. On second viewing, it wasn't too bad because I could see an escape. No one was forcing me to go on The Ghan so I could get out of line any time I needed.
The time spent in line went quickly. They were getting people on-board efficiently. While we waited, we amused ourselves by flirting with the baby in front; my son and I were competing to see who could make him smile. My son won; babies like him. I also tried to observe the people in line in front of me; people watching is one of my favourite activities when I'm in public. A couple a few metres in front of us were having a quarrel.
One of my followers on Twitter asked if I could write more about mindfulness. Truly, I don't know if I do it "right" or not; I don't even know if there is a "right" way of doing it. Standing in line I was feeling anxious; it was low level but it was there, nonetheless. Consequently, I was making a concerted effort to stay in the moment. Anxiety is the fear of what may happen - a fear of something in the future. Mindfulness keeps one planted firmly in the present. "I'm quite nervous standing in line here so I'm going to put my attention into watching people in line." If I'm looking at what people are wearing, who's in which family, how many children each family has etc, I can't be thinking about the sick feeling in my stomach. I know it's more complicated than that and I use it quite differently when I meditate but when I'm anxious I use my own modified version.
We finally made it into the train. The first carriage was fine. It was red class; the least expensive. We sat in the big comfortable chairs and imagined what it might be like to travel that way. After the first carriage, things got sticky for me. The train was full of people, all of whom were sitting in seats, reading menus and looking into private rooms in the more expensive gold and platinum classes. And the train was full; there were people from start to finish. And we weren't moving. We were just standing in a claustrophobic narrow corridor in a stationary train, not moving a millimetre. A recipe for the mother of all panic attacks.
There were two things I needed to do immediately. The first one was to plot my escape. I know this is "safety seeking" behaviour and I shouldn't but I do. So there. I looked up and down the corridor. Chockers. There didn't seem to be a way to escape. I told myself that I was thin and that, if I really needed to get out, I could clamp my hand over my mouth, dash through the crowd, jostling people as I went, shouting, "I'm going to be sick!" I figured that would make people move. I knew, however, once I'd worked out an escape route I wouldn't have to use it so it was immediately labelled "Plan Z".
The second was to be mindful of where I was and what was happening around me. I began looking around, trying to notice my surroundings and listen to conversations and other noises. As I did so, I could feel the wave of panic subside into something less threatening. It was a bleak and rainy day so I watched the raindrops roll down the window of the carriage I was in and studied the carriages of the train opposite. As I did so, the line moved forward bit by bit.
Then I got a distraction I wasn't expecting. The man in line in front of me turned and remarked, "You wouldn't want to be claustrophobic, would you?" I'm sure he'll always rue the moment he chose to do that because I replied, "As a matter of fact, I am and am feeling very uncomfortable at the moment." Interestingly enough, the conversation that ensued between us, comparing our most claustrophobic moments actually settled my anxiety. The only explanation I can think of is that I was so caught up in the conversation I didn't focus on how I felt.
Anyway, The Ghan is awesome. I'd love to do a trip on it one day. I don't think I want to be cooped up in a moving train for the time it takes so I think I still have much ground to cover until the day I climb on-board, platinum ticket in one hand and champagne in the other.
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