Texting anxiety

Texting is a part of daily life for many of us. It can be a quick and convenient way to communicate. It can also be a source of anxiety.

One of the "unspoken rules" of texting is that you don't have to immediately reply. Just like an e-mail message, it's understood that you'll respond when available, unlike a phone conversation. However, we often apply expectations about how long it should take for a person to reply and, when they fail to do so, become anxious.

Such reactions are normal and commonplace. For nervous people, however, this anxiety can precipitate into a working-up process if one isn't vigilant.

For example, I recently had a wonderful date. We seemed to enjoy our company and have a lot in common. When I sent a follow-up text expressing my enjoyment, I didn't receive a reply right away. OK, I thought, no biggie. Then some hours went by without a reply. I started to work myself up. My heart began to race a bit. My mind started to whirl: Does this person not like me? Did I do something wrong? Did I text too early? Admittedly, such reactions are average, and I acknowledged that. I also spotted that if I continued this line of thinking, I was at risk of ruining my day. After all, these were just my feelings about the situation, not the facts. I decided to practice objectivity by taking my mind off the situation by working in the yard. And a few hours later I did indeed receive a text back.

Nervous people will find themselves being anxious in everyday situations just like everyone else. These trivialities of everyday life, however, can spiral into larger worrying unless we spot them and practice our Recovery training.

Handling distressing thoughts

Unwanted negative thoughts bother a lot of anxious people. These thoughts might be scandalous, lurid, heretical, or otherwise distasteful. They certainly don’t reflect their personalities or perspectives, yet they arrive unexpectedly and cause distress.

These thoughts are common for anxious people and should not be a source of shame or fear. A person might worry that he/she might say these thoughts aloud in a meeting, during prayer, etc., but that would never happen, as Dr. Low reminds us that the muscles always respond to the commands of the brain (unless there is an underlying medical problem). These thoughts bother us so much because we fear that we will say or do things we don’t want to; we’ve essentially lost trust in ourselves.

Yet these are just thoughts—some random neural energy that most people would immediately dismiss. Anxious people tend to ruminate on these distressing thoughts, giving them power and permanency, leading to greater distress. But Dr. Low says that thoughts and impulses can be controlled, and a feeling of being out of control doesn’t mean you really are out of control.

I find that such thoughts become problematic when I’m particularly stressed. I might fear, for example, that I’ll write a cuss word in an e-mail or drop an f-bomb during a presentation (who isn't a little stressed while standing in front of a room?). Neither of these would happen, of course, without me actually making them happen, but being overall stressed seems to weaken our rationality, leading us to overanalyze random thoughts that pop into everyone’s head every day.

My Recovery training teaches me that when I encounter such thoughts, I can dismiss them as distressing but not dangerous. My muscles will respond to my commands, and feelings that certain things might happen are certainly not facts. I embrace these secure thoughts and think about something else. If I move onto something else, usually these feelings will dissipate quickly, and even if they stick around I can take comfort in the knowledge that such symptoms are average for a nervous person. 

Distressing thoughts can be a source of great shame for an anxious person, but don't let these normal occurrences sidetrack your recovery.

When you absolutely positively ultimately have no control whatsoever

Nervous people like to be in control, or at least think they are in control. We don't like change. We crave stability and knowing that everything is just the way we want, or like, it.

I'm no exception, and this weekend has been taxing for me.

I have been planning a large event in St. Louis for more than a year, and it takes place next weekend. Recent events in Ferguson have caused me to have sleepless nights, racing thoughts, and feelings of dread. My stomach has been jumpy for days. I fear no one will show up, that my event will be a failure, and that I will be blamed.

Being in Recovery, however, I also must acknowledge that I have absolutely, positively, ultimately no control whatsoever over what is going on there. I am taking an exaggerated sense of responsibility, as I, or anyone else, could never have anticipated what happened.

By checking my e-mail and the news frequently, I have been trying to give myself a sense of control, but these activities only heighten my anxiety. To protect my mental health, I must recognize that I am powerless in this situation.

As Dr. Low would remind me, although I feel helpless, the situation is not hopeless. The conference is still a week away. Recent events have proved that the the situation can change quickly, sometimes for the worse, but sometimes for the better. Our event is more than 20 minutes away from Ferguson, and my fears that no one will show up is a reflection of imagination on fire rather than reality.

The next few days are going to be uncomfortable. I can't change my feelings or sensations, but I do have control over my thoughts and impulses. By applying realistic thinking I can temper panic and not overreact to news events. I need to keep busy, keep positive, and deal with events as they happen, as anticipation is almost always worse than realization.

Another airline tragedy--putting it into perspective

This week I was as shocked as everyone else after learning about the plane being shot down over Ukraine. As a nervous person and someone with a history of a fear of flying, I responded to the tragedy perhaps more severely than many people.

My imagination was on fire, as we say in Recovery. I fly frequently, and I found myself wondering what it must have been like for those tragic souls onboard that flight. I talked to several co-workers about my fear of flying. I was working myself up into a frenzy.

I soon realized that in order to protect my mental health, I would need to distance myself from the news coverage. Avoiding hearing more about the tragedy will be difficult in the coming weeks, but I’ve decided to not focus on or obsess over the situation. I acknowledged that talking about my fear of flying with my co-workers did nothing but upset me—I got goose bumps, my eyes became blurry, and my breathing became shallow.

These symptoms are average for me after an airline disaster and, to put the situation in perspective, I don’t have them often, as such tragedies are quite rare. I’m also providing myself with secure thoughts, acknowledging how exponentially safer flying is than driving, for example. I can’t control my feelings and sensations, but I certainly can control my thoughts and impulses.

Flying is part of my job—there’s no way to avoid it, and I wouldn’t want to. I enjoy seeing new places and meeting new people. This rare tragedy is causing me discomfort, but through my Recovery training I am able to put such feelings into perspective. My heart goes out to the families of the victims, but obsessing over the situation will certainly not help anyone.

Addressing 'woe is me' and 'why me' thinking

Everybody has good days and bad days. When people with anxiety have bad days, we tend to fall into a “woe is me” and “why me” attitude. Maybe we let ourselves perform a compulsion over and over we know we shouldn’t have. Maybe we lacked the effort to not spot symptoms and correct our behavior. Maybe we are exhausted from a stressful week compounded with anxiety. Living with anxiety can be a struggle at times and, coupled with the usual daily stressers, it can be easy to fall into despair over continuous symptoms.

When I find myself feeling this way, I remind myself that questions about why I have anxiety usually don’t lead anywhere useful. After all, Dr. Low tells us that everyone has anxiety, but we “nervous people” tend to feel the effects more acutely and more frequently, and we have a tendency to overreact to distressing—but not dangerous—feelings that most people dismiss. As anxiety sufferers, we have a chronic condition, not likely to disappear overnight and likely requiring lifelong management.

When days seem dark and times tough, I like to adopt Dr. Low’s emphasis on being a leader in addressing one’s symptoms. Instead of rolling over, lamenting my lot in life, and letting symptoms get the best of me, I decide it’s time to double down, take control, and remind myself that feelings are not facts. Feelings and sensations cannot be controlled, but thoughts and impulses can be. “Woe is me” thinking is indeed under my control. I look back on all I’ve done, endorse myself for my achievements toward a healthier life, and recognize that sometimes there are setbacks—but setbacks do not reset my progress.

Sure, from time to time I get discouraged. But taking what Dr. Low calls the “total view” allows me to put everything in perspective. “Woe is me” and “why me” thinking focuses only on the past. This is a partial view that doesn’t benefit me. Taking the total view, recognizing my progress and projecting a long-term healthier outlook, I feel re-energized and rejuvenated. Yes, I’ll have bad days, and there will be times when I wish all of my anxiety would just go away. But recognizing I am taking a leadership role in my own health, that life is so much better now that I endorse myself for continuous spotting and practicing Recovery, recharges me and provides me with an overall broader, healthier, and optimistic view on the days ahead.

Tingling sensation--distressing, but not dangerous

People with anxiety sometimes have weird sensations. Tingling, throbbing, pinching—we often suffer with these “intolerable” symptoms, which we describe as zips, pings, heat, freezings, and other words that will be familiar to a lot of my readers.

Lately I’ve had the return of an “old friend” sensation. When I drive, I feel like pins are sticking into my foot. It’s a tingling, vibrating sensation, sometimes throbbing, and definitely uncomfortable. The trigger is no surprise—I have a new car, and when I bought a new car years before I had the same symptoms. When I drive a rental car, I don’t experience this sensation. I suppose that’s no surprise, because at the root of the problem is my fear that I didn’t make the right choice: Did I buy the right car? Did I make a mistake? Should I have waited for a better deal? And so on.

To cope, I’ve continuously reminded myself of Dr. Low’s wisdom: Feelings and sensations cannot be controlled, but thoughts and impulses can be. Telling myself that these are simply anxious reactions does help, but I admit sometimes I feel defeated by the symptoms. It can be exhausting to deal with distressing, but certainly not dangerous, symptoms all day.

Over time, through continuous spotting and endorsement, I know these symptoms will abate. They did before, and they will again. There’s nothing physically wrong. Before Recovery, I would have complained about this symptom to anyone who would listen, ask friends to drive the car to check for anything wrong, take the car to the dealer to ask them to find a problem, and so on. Now, with Recovery, I’m better equipped to handle these symptoms, and I am confident things will improve soon.

Recovery training takes time and effort

There are no quick fixes to dealing with anxiety.

That may seem obvious, but in our fast-paced world people crave the easy way out. The Internet is flooded with advertisements for pills and potions, techniques and trainings, “guaranteed” to quickly abate nervous symptoms.

But these problems don’t develop overnight, and they won’t disappear that quickly, either.

However, that doesn’t mean there isn’t reason for hope. In Recovery we continuously remind ourselves that the discipline of sticking with the Recovery method leads to a path of wellness. Reading Dr. Low’s books or attending a few Recovery meetings will not lead to instant symptom relief. Yet Dr. Low reminded us that anything worth doing won’t be easy. Overcoming distressing symptoms takes time and effort—if it didn’t, we wouldn’t have these problems in the first place.

Recovery is about continuous practice—endorsing along the way no matter what the outcomes. After a short time, things will get better—any sort of cognitive training will have the same result. Recovery’s focus on a continuously applied method, regular attendance at meetings, and frequent spotting builds the character and discipline needed to face and overcome our fears. In many ways, the mechanics of the Recovery method, just going through the motions so to speak, can lead to improvements.

When I started this blog years ago, I was at a point in my life where I felt I “couldn’t take anymore” and that I needed instant relief from my distressing symptoms. Recovery taught me that such thinking, on both counts, is unrealistic, and that with continuous practice I will get better. Recovery may not be the quickest way to a better life, but I believe it is the surest.

The important distinction between feelings and facts

Recently I was speaking to someone about his fear of flying. To help him to begin to spot distressing symptoms, I reminded him of Dr. Low’s sage advice regarding troubling sensations:

“[Y]our feelings are not facts. They merely pretend to reveal facts. Your feelings deceive you. They tell you of danger when there is no hazard, of wakefulness when sleep was adequate, of exhaustion when the body is merely weary and the mind discouraged. In speaking of your symptoms, your feelings lie to you. If you trust them, you are certain to be betrayed into panics and vicious cycles.” (1)

In my friend’s case, there is no value to worrying about a plane crash when he senses turbulence. What he feels has no bearing on what is actually happening.

Our culture tells us to trust our feelings, trust our gut, and to act on our feelings. But those in Recovery know better. Feelings and sensations cannot be controlled, but thoughts and impulses can be, Dr. Low tells us. If we allow ourselves to be swept up by emotions, we will be at the mercy of rising and falling tides of anxiety and anger.

Better to look for the facts of a situation and respond accordingly. We might feel our hands need to be washed, rewashed, and washed again, but the fact is our hands our clean. We might feel that we need to check, double check, triple check that the stove is off, but the fact is the burners are not ignited. We may worry that bumps while flying signify imminent doom, but the fact remains that we are not aviation experts and that such situations are normal. 

And in light of the disappearance of the recent Malaysia Airlines flight, we might feel that means air travel is dangerous, but the fact is that traveling by plane is exponentially more safer than by car.

“Feelings are not facts” is one of my favorite Recovery tools, and I’ve written about it previously. Like all good tools, it bears repeating. The next time you find yourself in a distressing situation, ask yourself if  you are responding to feelings or facts, and remind yourself that there is an indeed an important difference.

Reference
1. Low AA. Mental Health Through Will-Training. 3rd ed. Glencoe, Illinois: Willett, 1997;118.

A night at the movies with Recovery

Last weekend I went to the movies with a friend. When we entered the theater, I experienced a little anxiety. We nervous people often become tense when there are many choices, and we have a tendency to work up even trivial situations, such as selecting the "best" seat in the house.

We chose one location, but I thought it was not ideal, as it was near the aisle. I suggested we move to a more central position, which we both agreed was better. As the previews began I heard a baby whimper behind me. That's when I began to work myself up.

I felt a mixture of anger and fear. I was angry that someone would bring a child to a movie that, although not "adult" oriented, was not a film marketed to young kids. How rude, how inconsiderate, I thought. I wanted to move but also feared that the family behind me would consider me rude and inconsiderate for displaying my displeasure. For a moment I did not know what to do. I felt my heart beginning to race.

I then realized any decision would steady me, as Dr. Low suggests. I decided that the seats were still in a great location and that the baby was not being too loud. In fact, to my amazement the child was very quiet throughout the movie (Dr. Low reminds us to not work up a situation in the "preview"). In fact, a couple of his outbursts were a bit comical given what was going on onscreen.

A few days later, I realized that I overcame my fearful and angry temper by not allowing the situation to spiral into a vicious cycle. Yes, this was a triviality, but these everyday occurrences, not life's real emergencies, are what usually give us the most symptoms. I endorsed for being group minded to my friend and the people around me. Recovery served me well during a night at the movies.

Four flights, four opportunities to practice

As frequent readers of my blog know, I am not a huge fan of flying. Thankfully, I have my Recovery tools to help me.

This week I had a day trip that required me to be on four planes in one day. I tried to remember that anticipation is often worse than realization. On the first flight I was very nervous and on edge. I did not make a full effort to address my symptoms.

By the second flight I knew I had to make my mental health a business. So instead of sitting and worrying, I decided to focus on reading my graduate class's textbook. Amazingly, even when the plane experienced turbulence, I remained calm and indifferent. I applied Dr. Low's method of using objectivity to concentrate on something else. This strategy worked on my third flight as well. On the fourth flight I spoke with a fellow passenger during the trip to keep my mind off my fears--another form of objectivity. And once the trip was over, I endorsed for having the will to effort and tolerating uncomfortable feelings.

Before Recovery I would have been terrified during the entire experience. I might have even avoided the trip altogether. But with my Recovery training I know it is not how I feel but how I function that really matters. Despite some uncomfortableness, I muddled through. I chose obligation over inclination, and I demonstrated leadership in my own Recovery process.

Confessions of a perfectionist

I’ll admit it: I am a perfectionist. I like to be number 1, to have everything work just right, to be at the top of the class, to be at the front of the line, to be the highest performer. The problem is that trying to be perfect is exhausting—and taxing on my mental health.

Recently I turned in an assignment for a class. Afterward I agonized over whether my submission would meet all of the grading criteria. More specifically, I was worried I would not receive a perfect score. I had trouble sleeping, talked up the paper with friends, and felt nervous and tense. Finally a friend reminded me that this is a triviality—that the earth won’t stop spinning if I receive a less-than-perfect grade! I realized that I was violating Recovery’s principle of being average by trying to be exceptional. I allowed my imagination to be on fire.

After this experience, I felt a bit guilty for not practicing my Recovery training better. However, Dr. Low reminds us to endorse for the effort, not the outcome, and before Recovery I would not have stopped this vicious cycle and would have continued to worry. After all, we are not to try to practice Recovery perfectly, but rather as an average person.

When things fall apart

This week a major problem developed for me at work. I am not responsible for what happened, but the fallout could affect our business significantly. I first learned of the issue through an e-mail, and my symptoms exploded: confusion, sweaty palms, shakes, anger, fear, and despair. My mind raced as I envisioned everything I worked for crumbling as the result of something for which I had no involvement. (I’ll spare you the details; in the end, they don’t really matter.)

For the past few days it has been difficult to spot my symptoms. In fact, I don’t think I really wanted to. I allowed my mind to play out scenarios; I coddled my feelings; and I permitted my imagination to be on fire. I know how to maintain my mental health, but the situation was so overwhelming that I didn’t want to make the effort to change my thoughts.

The days ahead will reveal the final outcome/fallout of what happened, and I’m now beginning to spot that symptoms are distressing but not dangerous, that to know is to know that I DON’T know what will happen (Read that a couple times to get it). I’m making an effort to not let these symptoms overwhelm my years of hard work toward improving my mental health. I’m trying to be a realist and not let my imagination get carried away.

It’s so easy to fall into my old patterns during a crisis. Ultimately, this is a triviality in my life, but it seems so pressing and important right now. I don’t feel like endorsing but I will, because before Recovery I would not have made the effort to put my mental health first. I would have wallowed in my misery, talked about the situation to anyone who would listen (and even those who didn’t want to), and worked myself up so much that my recovery would be threatened. No matter what happens, my mental health must come first, and that realization is worth a hearty endorsement.

Dealing with 'little worries'

I don't like being uncomfortable, and anxiety makes me feel very uncomfortable. I especially worry about making mistakes. Ironically, my fears center around trivialities, such as misspelling a word in an e-mail, bumbling a calculation when balancing my checkbook, misplacing a bill, and so on. All of these "little worries" add up to one chronically stressed, uptight individual.

However, Dr. Low reminds us that mistakes made in trivial matters are themselves trivial. In my encounters with other nervous people, I've noticed how we often sweat the small stuff but can handle life's larger challenges.

For example, we're more likely to panic over misspelling our name on a college application rather than making the big decision to attend a college. I've also noted that in true emergencies many, if not most, of us react just fine, with a cool head and calm demeanor.

So as we work our way through our own recovery journeys, perhaps we should keep our focus on the little things, those everyday events that we can change our attitude toward. While our overall "big" goal is a long-term reduction in our symptoms, in the meantime we can make progress by focusing on prioritizing our mental health during all of the little challenges of life--and endorsing ourselves for every little victory.

Endorse for the effort, not the outcome

Our main goal, of course, is to eliminate nervous symptoms and temper from our lives. All too often we become frustrated, though, when despite our best efforts, they will not go away. We become discouraged and wonder what we are doing “wrong.”

Dr. Low, however, reminds us frequently that we cannot control feelings and sensations—only thoughts and impulses. We must allow our feelings and sensations to rise and fall on their own, using our spotting techniques to reduce their intensity and duration. And perhaps the most important lesson here is to remember to endorse for the effort but not the outcome.

At a recent Recovery meeting, a fellow group member shared her experience of using the Recovery method but not achieving the results she wanted as quickly as she desired. At some point she said she finally "got it" and her symptoms began to abate more quickly. She wasn’t sure what prompted her eureka moment, but I think I know the answer: It’s when she started to endorse for the effort—for spotting, for making her mental health a priority, for learning to endure uncomfortable feelings and sensations without making them into an emergency—and not the outcome (i.e., immediate cessation of symptoms).

Dr. Low stresses that we should give ourselves a pat on the back not because our symptoms are reduced, but more because we are doing something about them. And the more we provide ourselves with these “mini-rewards” for making our mental health a business, indeed the more quickly our symptoms will lessen. But if we focus on the symptoms themselves, we miss the fundamentals of truly becoming well: Changing our lives takes practice, patience, and perseverance. Thus, we celebrate when symptoms reside, but we endorse for all of the work we do along the way.

Being realistic

When I feel anxious, sometimes it seems the world stops. You probably know the feeling: I zero in on my symptoms such as blurry vision, heart palpitations, and tightness in the chest. The more I think about my symptoms, the worse they become. Sometimes it's hard to think of anything else which, of course, is how we get into trouble. We look for ways for instant relief: For people with OCD tendencies, this might mean performing a ritual. For others, it might be escaping from the distressing situation. Either way, we do ourselves much more harm than good by not muddling through whatever troubles us.

For example, say you're having a problem with doing something at work. You might think you are making many mistakes, but that's not likely the reality. Dr. Low called this thought process romanto-intellectualism: basically, believing that if you think it or feel it, it must be real. Such an attitude distorts reality for nervous people. In actuality, what we think or feel usually does not reflect the true situation. Dr. Low reminds us that it is not how we feel but how we function, and in most cases we perform just fine--no matter how distressing the feelings or sensations. And, using this example, if you did make a mistake, better to have the courage to make a mistake than succumb to a vicious cycle of anxiety. (After all, making mistakes is average, and we should not focus on being exceptional.)

True recovery comes to those who wait and practice with patience. Although we want instant relief, that's not realistic for boosting our long-term mental health. Letting go of our fears and being realistic is part of what Recovery is all about.

New Year's Resolution: Moving My Muscles

At this time of year, many (most?) Americans resolve to have a more active lifestyle. We usually focus on the physical aspects of exercise, such as weight loss, reduced blood pressure, presumed better looks, and so on. But Dr. Low teaches that moving our muscles has another important benefit: reducing our angry and fearful temper.

In this case I'm not talking about moving one's muscles to overcome a fear, such as having the will to board an airplane if you fear flying. I'm talking about the useful benefits of exercise in improving our mental health.

I don't enjoy exercising, though. I had a gym membership once, but I felt very uncomfortable there, intimidated by all of the fit and trim people. Now that I'm in Recovery, I would have taken a different attitude toward that experience, but in general I don't enjoy peddling on a bike for 30 minutes or lifting weights repetitiously. I do enjoy being active, though, whether that is working in the yard or strolling through a park. When I move my muscles I can feel tension, anger, and fear drain away, and I need to practice being more active to improve my mental health.

So my New Year's resolution is to be more active in 2011. To achieve this goal, I hope to take more walks--daily if possible. I'm not going to scold myself if I don't feel I'm doing "enough," as it's average to be enthuisastic about New Year's resolutions but then have that attitude fade over time. But if I lower my standards, my performance will rise, as Dr. Low suggests.

And as I'm walking in the bitter winter cold I can endorse myself all the way for making my mental health a business.

Practicing Recovery

This past Saturday I attended a leaders meeting for my local Recovery chapter. I struggled with some fearful temper before deciding to attend. After all, I would be around people I never met before, and that stirred butterflies in my stomach and led to some blurry vision. However, I chose obligation over inclination and decided to attend. I knew I could bear any discomfort.

Of course, anticipation is usually worse than realization, and I found everyone to be pleasant and welcoming. However, I was startled when the chapter president called on me to handle comments for another leader’s example.

Instantly I felt blood rush to my face and my heart pound. My mind began to race with thoughts such as, “What if I make a fool of myself?” and “What if I make a mistake?” I was very self-conscious.

Yet I quickly spotted that I was startled, and that it is average to feel uncomfortable in an uncomfortable situation. I wore the mask and “muddled” my way through it. I endorsed not only for having the courage to make a mistake, but also for deciding to attend the meeting in the first place. Even when attending Recovery meetings themselves we can find ways to practice!
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On a separate note, I found one of Katy Perry’s latest music videos to have an especially encouraging message for those struggling with anxiety.

Airplanes and spaceships: They're all outer environment

So much of our fear is driven by the outer environment. It seems like a simple concept, but it was quite a wake-up call once I joined Recovery. During the past week I’ve had multiple opportunities to recognize the importance of not letting my outer environment affect my inner environment.

For example, I was flying for a business trip. A pilot could not have asked for more ideal weather—clear blue skies between destinations. Of course, there were some bumps along the way. I’m not afraid to fly, but turbulence typically makes me very anxious. My hands clench, body sweats, eyes blur; I fear the plane will crash—average symptoms for me (and probably many people).

On my return flight home, though, I realized that I have absolutely no control over the airplane, my outer environment, and I had a responsibility to make my mental health a business and practice my Recovery training. I focused on secure thoughts (“Flying is one of the safest ways to travel”) and practiced objectivity by burying myself in a book. Soon my symptoms disappeared and even when there was an occasional bump I didn’t develop a panic. Before Recovery I would not have been able to practice this self-control and would have been miserable the entire flight. I endorsed myself.

The book I was reading was the sci-fi novel Dune. Some of the characters in the book have a saying they recite when faced with an anxious situation:

“I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.” (1)

Although this is not a Recovery tool, I do like how this “Litany against Fear” emphasizes that fear can overwhelm someone but if he lets it pass, all will be well. The book takes place thousands of years in the future, but humans still succumb to fear from their outer environment in the universe. Thankfully we have the tools to make our everyday, present existence less dominated by anxiety.

Reference
1. Herbert F. Dune. 40th anniversary ed. New York: Penguin; 2005: 8.

Muscle power

When I first entered Recovery, the concept of "moving the muscles" seemed foreign to me. But my group leader insisted that the "Muscles will reeducate the rattling brain." The idea seemed far-fetched, as I thought the problem was with my mind.

Yet I've come to realize that muscles are an intricate part of the recovery process. For example, when I suffered with checking obsessions and compulsions years ago, I realized that I could indeed control my muscles and not repeat checking the stove, door, or whatever had snagged my attention that day. At the time, though, I didn't realize that I was exerting control over my muscles, but this concept is much clearer to me now.

Controlling the muscles--whether it involves using arm and leg muscles to face a fear of driving, using your esophagus muscles to not vomit food considered "contaminated," and so on--also easily lends itself to endorsement, because commanding your muscles to carry out an action (or not) takes effort--effort that should be recognized. And for just about all of us, our muscles will obey our commands. If we tell our muscles to take us into a crowd, our muscles will not revolt. They will not hesitate. If the will commands them to do a task, they will do it. And that is a comforting thought!

I endorsed for writing this post.

Spotting "danger"

I am currently reading chapter 40 in Mental Health Through Will-Training: "Failure to spot sentimentalism." In this section Dr. Low discusses the importance of having a secure outlook on life. Having a more confident and secure view of life is something I have struggled with for years. I always seem to find the "danger" in a situation—even the mundane aspects of daily living. You know, like forgetting to shut off a stove burner and the ensuring catastrophe I "know" would happen as a result (Although I have overcome that obsession, every so often it will cross my mind, but I strongly refuse to give it expression or duration). Much of my current "danger seeking" centers around perfectionism in both personal and professional life.

Yet when I apply Recovery tools I quickly see that these so-called dangers do not really exist, and that I can ride out these distressing—but not dangerous—symptoms by adjusting my thoughts and impluses—which are in my control. This attitude has helped me overcome my fears of riding in elevators and driving. Now, I look back at all the irrational thoughts I built into these activities and shake my head (but try to avoid feeling ashamed). It's a valuable lesson that I will be able to overcome my current fears.

I endorsed for writing this post.