Category: Life

Dizzy Days

reroutinglife

imageThe day is still young, but it has already surprised me.

I went to bed too late (as a result of still navigating this blog thing!) and woke up feeling dizzy.  A few days a month, I will have these “dizzy days”.  Whether it’s from lack of sleep or a side-effect of medication, they generally set you up for a “bad” day.  If you suffer from panic disorder, I don’t need to explain this.  I know everyone has bad days, but when you have frequent panic attacks, the bad days just set you up for failure; at least in your head, anyway.  Just your a-hole brain playing tricks on you again.

What a little prankster.

It was off to school as usual, 7:30am for Jack and 8:45am for Allie.  I really, really didn’t want to face the day.  Feeling vulnerable, uncomfortable, and generally out of control.  The a-hole brain feeds on this negative feedback.  I almost just kept Allie home so I could chill.  Sometimes we do that just for fun…we are both home bodies, and after all it’s just preschool.  But I was looking for more of an excuse; a reason not to face the day with this heightened sensitivity.  Then I remembered what I had recently read in good old Dr. David’s workbook.  If you want to make progress, you have to practice. Even on the “bad” days. So on we went.

While buckling my sweet, smiling girl into her car seat, a pang of profound sadness came over me.  This happens sometimes when I look at my happy, joyfully fearless children.  Especially Allie.  She has an extra dose of fearless.  It sounds contradictory to how one should feel when realizing your children are happy.  But I instantly mourn for my joy.  I miss the childlike joy that comes so easily to them.  I try to let that go as I keep talking to my silly girl, trying to siphon her joy instead of mourning my own.  The a-hole brain loves when you get self-absorbed.

So I sat through an extra-long carpool line (an occasional panic trigger) with flying colors. Kissed my sweet girl good-bye, and then knew what I needed to do.  I had 3 hours to kill.  It was time to practice.

Dr. David recommended an hour every day, so I would shoot for that.  Time to take to the highway.

I didn’t fully go into my first full panic attack on the highway, but I will brief you.  I had been experiencing waves of panic while driving on the interstate, but nothing full-blown.  Enough to start the ball rolling.  I had full-blown panic in other areas, but highway driving was relatively minor.  I had always loved driving.  It gave me such a sense of freedom.  I would usually offer to drive on road trips with friends, and have even driven cross-country multiple times.  These are some of my best memories.

I had been nervous off and on driving until I became pregnant with my first, Jack.  My anxiety completely disappeared for the entire pregnancy. Blame it on hormones or first-pregnancy excitement, but it was great.  It was postpartum that put me into a tailspin.

I think I was struggling for a while and just didn’t accept it.  Don’t get me wrong, having a newborn is wonderful.  But stir in an overwhelming sense of responsibility, navigating work/motherhood, and total lack of sleep, and you have a recipe for disaster. At least if you are susceptible to anxiety and panic.

When Jack was about 7 months, I was heading to Lake Oconee to my in-laws house for Labor Day weekend.  We were going with a bunch of our friends, and I was excited. Granted, I was the only one with a baby, but we could still have fun, right? I drove up early to help get the place ready.  Me, Jack in his infant seat, and Bear, our sweet little dog, who loves riding in the car. Friday afternoon traffic on a holiday weekend in Atlanta is never a walk in the park, but it was never an issue for me. Until that afternoon.  Traffic on 285 was at a standstill, and I was smack in the middle lane.  I’ll never forget how beautiful of a day it was; blue sky and abundant sunshine. Sadly, driving on days like this triggers my anxiety now, thanks to this memory. All of a sudden, I feel the wave coming on.  I struggle to calm myself, grasping mentally for something to stop it.  My breath quickens, my heart races, my body tenses up and tingles.  I start to leave my body.  Besides feeling like I’m suffocating, the disassociation  is always the scariest for me.  You literally feel like you aren’t in control of yourself anymore, like you are literally going crazy.  When you have your precious baby boy in the backseat, this is only more agonizing.  You are his mother and his protector.  You feel scared not only of the attack but for not keeping your child safe.  Looking back as an observer, you realize that your a-hole brain is just telling you stories.  But in the moment, especially when you are unaware of the panic trick, it is absolutely horrifying.

So I call my husband, bless his heart.  He is a tough love kind of guy.  So he just tells me, “Babe, you can’t freak out! You’re on the highway!”.  Thanks my love.  My thoughts precisely.  He does the best he can with me, and has learned along with me in my journey.  But I think men hate when they can’t do anything to fix the problem.  It’s against their “manliness” code. So I quickly say good-bye, continue freaking out, but can’t exit anywhere, so I just bear it until I reach the next exit.  I pull over in a Wal-Mart parking lot and eventually calm down.  My mother-in-law (who has obviously heard from my hubby) calls and I just start to cry.  I do remember that the crying felt so good. Most people who suffer from panic disorder try to hold in their emotions, instead of letting it go.  But in my mind, I was traumatized.  Driving has never been the same since.

Well, that wasn’t nearly as brief as I meant it to be. I did make it to the lake. The rest of the trip is a blur, but I surely didn’t die because of the attack.  But my emotions were so strong that the experience was tattooed on my brain and started years of avoidance in multiple driving situations. But I won’t go into all those now.

Back to this morning. Yes, I was having a bad day. Yes, I was scared.  I was twitching, rolling the window down, up again, changing the music, the AC…grasping for control.  The anticipatory worry was starting to sink in, but I remembered what the book said about it. Ignore the “what if” statements, and if they do enter your brain, try to humor them.  Basically make fun of them.  Whatever it takes to take away their power. The anticipation is way worse the the actual deed. Waiting at the stoplight to get on the ramp just plain sucks. No way around it. But it turns as all lights do, and I’m in it. No turning back.

My new friend Dr. David, in Panic Attack Workbook, stresses the idea of just letting the panic come. All your instincts tell you to fight it.  I’ve been fighting it for 12 years.  Until now. You are so used to fighting when a challenge arises in life, but the opposite rule applies with panic. Fighting it will make it worse.  So the panic comes.  I try to let it come.  My sensitivity is at a level 11, but I just let it float.  He talks about the AWARE method in his book, so I do that. I will post a link soon explaining this useful method. I practice my belly breathing, also something a learned in the book.  I have always heard to concentrate on my breathing to calm me, but I never knew the right way to breathe. Just like that, I’m driving on the highway. It’s a momentary relief, as I realize the challenge is to maintain this for AN HOUR. I’ve always struggled with not getting off at every exit (panic sufferers tend to feel “trapped” in situations where they cannot flee) but I push past the first exit. Then another. And another. My body feels like it’s on fire, buzzing with nerves. I’m crawling out of my skin. But I’m doing it. I’m practicing. I hate it, but I have accepted it.

If you drive far enough up I-575 on a clear day, you can see the silhouette of the Blue Ridge mountains. I decide this is my goal.  I float through the panic, still buzzing with awareness. But I press on.  At one point I start singing and roll the window down.  Positive driving memories come to mind…for a moment I’m back in high-school/college on a road trip. Relaxed and carefree.  I drive a particularly long stretch of highway and actually forget to panic about how far the exits are from each other. Progress.

I round a corner, and I am almost the only one on the road. Then I see the mountains. They are more beautiful that I remember. A wave of emotion comes over me, but not panic. It’s joy.   I can hardly remember the feeling of joy while driving.  I revel in it.

Having reached my goal, it’s time to head back.  I’ll have to pick Allie up soon. I turn around and go back, and then I remember the road construction. There are cement barriers, narrow lanes, traffic ahead. Waves of panic return.  I try to remember what to do, how to let it go. It’s harder on the way back. I’m mentally grasping for control.   I almost exit several times. But then I remember another tidbit from the book, when you are scared to do something, do it. There’s a super slow truck in front of me, but I am more scared in the left lane. Without thinking too much, I just do it. I switch lanes. It takes away the anticipation and gives me a much needed confidence boost.  Once I am there, I challenge myself to stay there. I stay there for several miles, until I finally reach the exit leading home.

So that’s it, right? I’m cured! Hardly. This was my first day of practice, and only with driving on the highway. Yes, I’m super proud of myself, (and I even had coffee this morning!!!) and I hope the confidence will help in other situations. But I have many, many more challenges ahead.

I know many of you are just sick at your stomach even thinking about facing your fears when it comes to panic. I still am. I have so much work to do.  Again, it has taken me 12 years to accept the idea of practicing.  I still take meds and will need more time to think of practicing without them. Today I did it without Xanax, which was huge.  I even dug into my purse for the bottle at one point. But I’m trying to teach myself that these things are just like Dumbo’s feather. He thought he needed the feather to fly, but turns out he did just fine without it.

I know you will be fine too. Good days, bad days, dizzy days…be thankful just for another day.

 

 

 

 

Practice

Practice

reroutinglife

Do you ever feel like you’re on a ferris wheel? Like you are constantly spinning around not accomplishing anything? That’s the phase I’m currently in.  I know I haven’t posted in a while, mainly since I haven’t quite figured out how to be a blogger and also since I can barely make it through the kid’s bedtime without falling asleep tucked up next to their soft blankies and stuffed-animals.

My sweet friend Kristen, who just launched her own blog (here is where I would insert a link to her blog if knew anything about blogging) sent me a tutorial, which I am yet to read, and I still can’t manage to drag myself down to my desktop in the basement without being intercepted by my couch and a blanket. I am currently accepting laptop donations to fix this issue. So there is my explanation on lack of blogging.

But a lot is going on for sure. Hit a rough patch of anxiety which peaked and resulted in adding to my current anti-depressant, which I have since decided to go back to my original dose. Playing ping-pong with the old brain again. Poor thing. Have dabbled with paleo dieting and possibly changing medications all together as advised by friends/doctors/health coaches. Lots of possibility brewing. But my favorite little tool in my anxiety tool kit at the moment is my current book, Panic Attack Workbook, by David Carbonell, Ph.D.

A brief synopsis of the book…it basically says that to truly beat “the panic trick”, you have to practice the exposure theory. Which is pretty much letting yourself panic in phobic situations and working with the panic instead of fighting it. Which personally, I’ve known about for years but have never really been ready to face. After 12 years with this mess, however, you start to say enough is enough. 

It’s a great, practical, pro-active read. I’m pretty sure he named every single panic situation/thought I’ve ever had, along with offering non-complicated advice. Well, non-complicated until you actually start practicing with panic. Easier said than done. And bless you, Dr. Carbonell, I would love to practice for your recommended hour a day/five days a week, but I have two small children and a husband that is gone half the month usually. I’m practicing most days keeping little people alive and functional. Finding time to go to the bathroom, let alone “practice” with my anxiety, is a luxury. So I would have maybe added a chapter, like: Panic and the Tired Mom. Or, Practicing with Panic While Your Kids are Screaming in the Background. But hey, maybe in the next edition.

Just to illustrate my point, here’s a brief overview of my evening. Hubby is out of town (for 10 days!!!) and I’ve just finished miraculously putting some kind of food on the table. My kids start yelling at each other because Allie’s chair is touching Jack’s and she won’t move it and then she bumped it hard “on purpose”. So we flee the crime scene and start the bath/shower process, where Allie is fussing because she has her arm stuck in the shirt she is taking off by herself because “she can do it”, meanwhile Jack has clogged the toilet because he uses about half the roll to wipe himself. So, I help Allie with her shirt and then go into the bathroom to find poop ON THE WALL. It’s a trace amount, mind you. But no amount of poop on a wall is acceptable. So I clean that up while the dog starts going crazy at the door because the TruGreen guy is here to ask if I need lawn services even though somehow they have missed that they have been treating our lawn for 2 years. All is quiet momentarily so I go to clean up from dinner when I hear screaming from the bathroom because Allie has splashed Jack because “Jack was being mean” and he is splashing back because “she splashed me first”.  But man, are they sweet when they’re sleeping.

I love my children dearly, I do. My mom bought me a sweet little sign that says, “Being a mom makes me so tired and so happy”. I love that. Being a mom is a labor of love, and being a mom with panic disorder adds a hint of spice to the dish. Which makes me think, maybe I shouldn’t beat myself up for relying on medication for anxiety in these early childhood years. Maybe that book was meant for moms with kids off to college. Certainly they don’t want you to do it during the teenage years either. So when is the right time to suck it up and start exposure therapy? I’ll sleep on that one.

Seriously, I do want to start soon. I have so much hope in my fearful little heart. I think once you loose hope, you’re in a far tougher spot. So I’m thankful for hope. I can’t say I’m thankful for anxiety, but I am accepting of it and it’s the journey I’ve been given. My hope is to overcome it and to help others on their journey as well. So cheers to starting practice… one of these days.

Let’s Begin

Let’s Begin

reroutinglife

Wow, so that was a rough start! I wasn’t prepared for how hard it would be to find a name for this here blog. But, Phew!!!! An hour later, after trying more than a handful of quirky, cutesy names that were taken, here I am. Rerouting  Life. Because “Life Rerouted” was taken. That was up there with trying to think of the perfect band name. Even though you are not even a member of a band.

Anyway, rant over. Here I am. Typing with one hand on my phone because I’m too lazy to get out of bed and get to an actual keyboard. But that’s me…comfort over practicality.

I used to write. Like, a lot. I’d fill up notebooks and notebooks of stories and poems as easily as people breathe. It was my escape, my outlet, my life line. It was one of a few things I actually took pride in. When you write a story in third grade and your teacher loves it so much she wants to read it to the class, you start to think you’re on to something. You get a little nudge in the right direction and you go with it. Plus, you LOVE it. It frees you from the dark,lonely times. It becomes a friend.

And then, life happens. The journals fill with adolescent woes and dreams. Love happens, and the pen really gets going again, but then settles down. Heart break happens, and it gets quite the workout. Then you find “the one”, and the pen feverishly jots down vows and wedding plans. You fill a honeymoon journal, and not too long after, a pregnancy journal. You write a letter to your newborn baby and fill a baby book with quotes and sweet milestones. And then, real life. You trade in your pen for a glass of wine and some “me” time staring at a tv. Your second child comes along and you can’t even find a pen to save your life.

Fast-forward a few more years and here I am. No pen needed, thanks to this snazzy technology thing. But certainly a need. As a person with self esteem just about at sea level, writing is like a super power. I always feel like it’s the real, authentic me that can’t seem to make it’s way out verbally. I am a pretty awkward, distracted, nervous person, who tries with everything in me to present the exact opposite of this, which can be a bit exhausting. To other people, I am the nicest, calmest most patient person they’ve ever met. Which assures me that I am indeed presenting myself correctly. Ok, so I do think I am genuinely a nice, good person. But calm I am not. In fact, I have this fun little thing called an Anxiety Disorder.

I almost hate to give it a title, because that gives it more power. I HATE giving it power. But anyway I have been diagnosed with Panic Disorder w/agoraphobia. Sounds scary, right? I have a mental illness…awesome. Until you accept this fact, it is pretty isolating and embarrassing. Which, it still can be, but to a lesser degree now. For example: a “normal brained” person would go about their day say, driving to work on the interstate, maybe taking a subway or a business trip on an airplane, but a person with my specific mental issue has to find another way (or take lots of anti-anxiety medication) because even thinking about doing these things scares the crap out of them, and actually being in these situations makes their body go into a physical panic attack in which they feel like they are dying. This has happened to me in grocery stores, malls, loud restaurants, movie theaters, churches, carpool lines, and on Disney World rides. And no, not like, Space Mountain, like, the Little Mermaid. Thank goodness for my Xanax on that hellish journey.

Blah, blah, poor me, yada yada sob story…I sound like another victimized soul with a chip on my shoulder. But that is not what this is about. I am a lover of life that has what my homie Glennon Doyle (of Momastery genius) calls an “a-hole brain”. It’s like there’s me, and then there’s that little part of my brain that’s trying to sabotage me. I hate, HATE my a-hole brain. Sometimes it’s louder than other times. I do like parts of my brain, really. Although she’s a bit of a distracted one, bless her heart. When I think of what’s going on inside my head, I often envision a ping-pong ball just letting loose up in there. But that little voice in there; that doubt, that fear, that terror…I live frequently trying to hold it back from bursting the door down. Because when that happens, Lord help me.

Ironic literary transition…the Lord has, in fact, helped tremendously with this process. But that’s a whole other topic. Whew, I could go on and on. Save it, sister.

So, I almost completely forgot to get the the point of this first post; why I chose this title. I mentioned that my anxiety has put me in the position to be petrified to drive on the interstate. I’ve made some progress in the 10 years since this all went down, but my #1 on my anxiety list is driving on the interstate with my children. Ok, so there’s a few other scary things up there with that. But that’s a biggie. Awesomely enough, (and I’m horrible at giving myself credit, so I’m working on that) I have managed to do this, although in small measured amounts. But it’s just terrifying. I think I’d rather sit and pull all my teeth out. Usually, when I have to go somewhere far, I plug it into good old google maps, and praise Jesus, they have an option that says, “avoid freeways”.  When I discovered this, I literally heard angels singing. Ok so not really, but that’s how dang excited I was. Sure, it adds an extra hour (or 3) to the journey, and the beach is out of the question, but I am the queen of some back roads.

You see, “rerouting” is something I’m a bit of an expert at. Avoiding the hard way is something I’ve managed to perfect. I avoid my fears, my triggers, my challenges. It’s just easier. Safer. But it’s also debilitating, isolating, and lonely. It’s letting the “a-hole brain” win. It’s like being imprisoned by your own mind. When you get down to it, it’s infuriating.

Rerouting Life is about changing this current path; rerouting THROUGH the hard stuff, the scary stuff, the things I avoid. I’m tired of living life halfway. I have been robbed of so many good things in life for too long. I’ve missed out on close friendships, events, and memories due to a false sense of fear. It’s time to reroute from the path of avoidance, and start walking the hard road. It may take me a lifetime to do it, but I’m going to try. I just want to ride the Little Mermaid ride without being medicated, dammit.

So, whether no one reads this or everyone, I am beyond elated just to get the words out. This expulsion of words is my therapy. And way, way cheaper, mind you. Life is good, all issues aside. I am a work in progress, and I know I was made this way for good reason. Good will, and has, come out of this. I know more good and bad is to  come. Life is not meant for quick and easy answers. But when needed, we can always reroute.