Doing 'what we fear and hate to do'

Last week I traveled to England for work. It was my longest flight, with about seven hours in the air between New York and London. I had never been on a larger plane (a 767), and I had never traveled outside of the United States (except for road trips to Canada).

I was nervous before leaving--not only because of the flight, but I would be in a new country. I excused instead of accused myself, recognizing that any person would be anxious in such a situation. Instead of working myself up, I worked the situation out by conducting online research about what to expect when traveling to the UK. I acknowledged that anticipation is often worse than realization.

There were some uncomfortable moments during my travels, but by not allowing my fears to take control I was able to get through the experience--and even enjoy my time there. I endorsed myself for challenging myself and tackling my uncomfortable symptoms.

When nervous people are faced with a new or unexpected event, our usual reaction is to respond that "I can't do that" or "I won't do that." Yet a person in Recovery recognizes that obligations need to come before inclinations--in my case, traveling internationally when I'd prefer not to because I would be uncomfortable. And when we do things that we "fear and hate to do," we can be surprised and delighted about how much we can do, even when we are anxious.

Pops, pings, and zips

Zips. Pings. Buzzes. Pops. Tingles. 

Our bodies can produce a lot of weird sensations. Whether your eyes are blurry, your ears are popping, your hand is tingling, or you feel some “zips” in your head, every so often all of us feel something a bit strange. To most people, they’re just a passing curiosity.

To anxious people, however, they can be alarming.

We obsess over what these sensations could mean. Imminent health issues? Life-threatening tumors? We jump to conclusions with little evidence. Of course, any prolonged symptom should receive medical evaluation. Yet even if we are reassured everything is fine by trained experts, we continue to worry. The fear can become overwhelming. Just the thought of the symptoms can produce the symptoms themselves!

Dr. Low and Recovery remind us that feelings and sensations cannot be controlled, but thoughts and impulses can be. This is sage advice when dealing with symptoms that are distressing, but not dangerous (if told so, of course, by a medical professional).

For example, sometimes I have strong tingling sensations in my right foot. This occurs usually when I’m stressed for one reason or another. I then focus on the sensation, annoyed at its occurrence, fearful of what it could mean, and thereby intensifying the symptom. I become panicky, as not only does my foot tingle but my breathing becomes shallow and my thoughts reel. This can happen dozens of times in a week.

Yet I’ve found relief by simply acknowledging that, hey, I have a little distressing sensation, and I know that there’s nothing physically wrong. It will pass. Feelings are not facts, and this distressing—but again, not dangerous—sensation will pass. And it always does, usually when I focus on something else and forget about it. 

Medical experts continually expound on TV that we shouldn't ignore our bodies. If you think something is wrong, definitely see a doctor, or two if necessary. But when trained mental health and physical health professionals reassure us that nothing is physically wrong, we need not feel ashamed or embarrassed. Indeed, why not feel overjoyed? Dr. Low and Recovery tell us that thoughts and impulses can indeed be controlled, and over time by not giving power to distressing, but not dangerous, symptoms they will fade away on their own.

Doing the thing I fear and hate to do

This year I was on more than 75 airplane flights. I travel more than any of my family or friends, perhaps even among my co-workers. I’ve been as far west as Seattle and as far east as Miami—and had a five-and-a-half-hour trip between the two.

Throughout these experiences, I have had symptoms: racing thoughts, imagination on fire, heart palpitations, blurry vision, sweating, loose bowels—classic anxiety. Yet I did not let this stop my travels. At times I was extremely uncomfortable, but I would remember Dr. Low’s words that comfort is a want, not a need. I never truly was in any danger.

Perhaps the tool I used most frequently was that “feelings are not facts.” I might have felt that the turbulence was intense, that the take-off wasn’t quite right, that the plane was in jeopardy, but the reality of the situation was always quite different. The facts were clear: I was usually experiencing normal turbulence and, at times, feeling panicky for no reason at all.

Next year promises the same level of travel—perhaps more. I have fantasized about telling my boss I “can’t” fly, that the symptoms are simply too intense. But I recognize that the only way to maintain self-esteem and overcome symptoms is to do the thing I fear and hate to do. Feelings and sensations cannot be controlled, but thoughts and impulses can be. I can control my impulse to not fly again, and I can continue to change my thoughts using Recovery tools to replace insecure thoughts with secure ones.

Thus, I’m going to give myself a hearty endorsement for practicing Recovery in such uncomfortable circumstances this year. Feeling anxious on a flight is not a failure—we endorse for the effort, not the outcome. In years past I might have indeed told my boss that I can no longer travel by plane, but a life chained to anxiety is not how I plan to live.

Embracing an active, not passive, recovery

Lately I have been reflecting on the concept of leadership in mental health. When we’re anxious, it’s easy to adopt a “woe is me” attitude. We often turn to others for comfort. In my case, I would ask my loved ones the same questions over and over, seeking some sort of relief while irritating those who only wanted to help. I thought medications alone would quickly relieve my symptoms—I was quickly disappointed.

In essence, I was adopting a passive attitude toward my mental health. I was hoping that outside forces, whether they be friends, family members, therapists, or pills, would relieve my symptoms and make life more bearable. 

What I didn’t realize then, but I learned later in Recovery, is that anything meaningful in life takes effort and will power. We celebrate high school and college graduations because it takes hard work to achieve those goals. We don’t wait around for a promotion; to advance, we have to talk to the boss about why we deserve greater pay and responsibility. With something as important as our mental health, we can’t assume that things will simply get better or that others can transform our lives.

The path to sound mental health begins with self-leadership.

On this point, Dr. Low was clear. For our symptoms to abate, we must practice Recovery techniques to improve our lives. I emphasize the word practice because information alone doesn’t lead to meaningful change. You can read about improved mental health all day long, but you will not get well until you practice techniques, deal with uncomfortable feelings and sensations, and learn to control thoughts and impulses. To do this demonstrates self-leadership.

The concept of leadership has been enormously empowering in my Recovery journey. All the tools for wellness are right with me all the time, and I have the power to improve my life. Friends, family members and, in some cases, medications can certainly be important adjuncts to one’s own Recovery practice. Yet to truly embark on an active Recovery, on the path to wellness, one must embrace self-leadership, let go of a passive attitude, and embrace change, despite the road bumps one might encounter along the way.

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.

Car troubles--not a reason to panic

Talk about a frustrating week.

On Sunday I went to start my car, but all I heard were a series of clicks. The next day I was flying out of town for business, so I had to arrange a ride to the airport and a tow truck to take the car to the repair shop. The tow truck dropped off the car across the street from the repair shop; I had to call back and have it towed across the street for $45. Turns out it was the battery. A couple hundred dollars later, I discovered when I returned home that my muffler was hanging low—my muffler brackets had snapped. What I thought might be a quick weld repair turned into a much more expensive job.

Argh.

Throughout the entire experience, I remained relatively calm. Before Recovery, I would have been in a full-blown panic. With my Recovery training, however, I’ve become much more of a realist. Cars break down. Multiple things can go wrong. These sort of problems are average for an older vehicle.

And among all of the things that can go wrong in daily life, this is certainly a triviality—an expensive triviality to be sure, but not something to risk my mental health.

Among the tools Recovery teaches its members is the mantra, “Expect frustrations every five minutes and you won’t be disappointed.” To someone not trained in Recovery language, this may seem pessimistic. Yet when experiencing a series of unfortunate events, such thoughts help keep me grounded and in control of my emotions.

Handling disappointments

Sometimes things just don’t work out the way we want them to.

For example, a project I have been toiling over at work is not yielding the desired results. I’ve invested many hours in it, including many after the normal business day is over. Despite my best efforts, I can’t seem to make the progress I want. I was working myself up over this situation: I wasn’t sleeping much; my mind was racing; my mood was sour; and I felt quite dismal.

Just recently I spotted that I am trying to be exceptional, a condition Dr. Low warns us to not try to attain. I have an exaggerated sense of responsibility to this project. Although the results are disappointing, I must acknowledge that the situation, on balance, is average: Not every project I work on will have stellar results.

I am practicing internalizing these concepts, and for that I am endorsing. I understand them intellectually, but my perfectionist streak pushes back. I am reminded of the everyday saying of Don’t let the perfect be the enemy of the good. Although this situation is disappointing, Dr. Low would remind me that such everyday trivialities are never “dangerous.” With this in mind, I am finding some peace in the situation.

Ear popping: Distressing but not dangerous

Nervous people are often troubled by normal body sensations. A tingling here, an ache there—little annoyances most people would quickly dismiss we have a tendency to analyze, fret over, and work up.

Recently I noticed my ears popping when I was involved in deep concentration on school or work projects. I was not worried about a medical condition, but I found the sensations distressing. I’m far enough in my Recovery training to recognize that they were not dangerous, but I started to work myself up over them. I had thoughts such as, Why are my ears popping? This is making it difficult to concentrate. This is so annoying. Why won’t this go away? I was being distracted by these thoughts, and my temper began to build: When my ears would pop my heart would race and my breathing would become shallow.

Thankfully, I soon remembered Dr. Low’s comments on handling such situations. We can control thoughts and impulses but not feelings and sensations. The latter will quickly pass if we do not work them up. Dr. Low warns us against labeling symptoms as “intolerable” or “unbearable,” as such language distorts the reality that these are minor annoyances that will quickly pass—if we allow them to do so.

Every now and again my ears will pop, but I try not to pay too much attention. As Dr. Low predicts, the sensations subside when I don’t give them any importance. In former days, I would have come to dread ear popping. In fact, just the thought of it would have thrown me into a panic. Thankfully, with my Recovery training I recognize that symptoms are distressing but not dangerous, and I can nip potential threats to my Recovery in the bud long before they become serious problems.

Flying is uncomfortable—not dreadful

Today I will be on an airplane.

Just a few months ago I would have dreaded the upcoming experience. While I am far along in my Recovery journey and would not have tried to avoid the trip, it would have been a very uncomfortable activity. But I have learned that it will be just that: uncomfortable. Not excruciating. Not unbearable. Just uncomfortable.

Dr. Low frequently reminds us that we crave comfort, and when we begin to dread discomfort we develop a vicious cycle of fear and anxiety. I now understand, through my Recovery training, that should I experience chest palpitations, intense sweating, blurry vision, and other “intense” symptoms, I should accept them as merely feelings and sensations, which I cannot control. I can control my thoughts and impulses. I am often amazed by how quickly the sensations will dissipate when I do not work them up.

I acknowledge that I am feeling nervous about the trip today. I am a little shaky and my stomach is jittery. Yet I am not concerned about these sensations because they are an average experience before I fly. Of course, I do not like them, but I’m not letting them bother me. They will wax and wane throughout the day, but by not working them up I will minimize their impact and proceed with my day. In the past I would want to call someone to discuss my “agonies” for hours. Now I know that such a bid for comfort rarely resolves symptoms and, in fact, enhances them.

I am bearing the discomfort and fulfilling my work responsibilities. I am moving forward in my Recovery journey. I am taking control away from anxiety. And for all of that I heartily endorse!

Mantra: Feelings are not facts

Regular readers of my blog know that I have practicing Dr. Low’s teachings to help me overcome fear of flying. Recently I had a four-hour trip to Phoenix (and another on the way back). I am endorsing for using Recovery tools to help me through the experience. Among those I found particularly useful:

• When booking my flight I chose an aisle, instead of a window, seat. When things get bumpy I have a tendency to look out the window, which I think is a fear-reinforcing behavior. Therefore, to better control my muscles I chose a seat away from the window.
• During takeoff, when things are a bit bumpy, I kept repeating to myself, “Feelings are not facts.” Just because I felt something was wrong and was worried the plane was in trouble did not mean that was reality (in fact, quite the opposite). I ignored my body sensations (sweaty palms, racing heart, etc.). For the first few minutes into the flight, this was my mantra.  
• I focused on reading a graduate school textbook for most of the flight, forcing myself to focus on something objective. This way I ignored a lot of the little bumps that are average during any flight.
• When the plane encountered some mild turbulence, I returned to my mantra of “Feelings are not facts.” At these times I could not focus on reading. I excused myself for that.
• Upon landing I gave myself a hearty endorsement. In fact, I’m still endorsing. I am not endorsing because I wasn’t nervous; I’m endorsing because I practiced Recovery teachings and am making my mental health a business. Before Recovery, the flight would have been a lot more uncomfortable.

I have more flights coming up, but I’m not dreading them as much as I used to. Recovery is helping me with everyday, average experiences such as flying.  

Keeping my opinion to myself

One of many things I love about Recovery is that it has taught me that I do not always need to express my opinion—something that before Recovery I did all too often. I now practice exercising control over my speech muscles. This may sound simple, but for nervous people this is not always easy.

For example, I recently had dinner with friends at a chain restaurant. My companions said their food was delicious, but I found mine to be wanting. Yet instead of complaining, I chose to talk about something else, thereby not ruining my friends’ experience or making them feel guilty about selecting the restaurant.

Before Recovery I would have felt compelled to share my opinion of the meal. Although there would be nothing wrong with doing so, I decided that I would find it difficult to critique the restaurant without temper. Thus, I was group minded by letting my friends enjoy dinner without my temperamental expression.

That, admittedly, is a fairly simple example, but I have found other situations in which exercising control over my speech muscles was very valuable, such as:

• When my boss says something I disagree with
• When I’m anxious about something and want to talk it up with others
• When someone expresses a political opinion with which I am very opposed to

In each situation I’ve decided that the temperamental outburst would not only not be in the group’s interest, but also would lead to a temperamental reaction I’d later regret. If I allowed myself to express temper in any of these scenarios, I would later worry that I said something I shouldn’t have, that I made someone angry at me, that I am burdening someone with my problems, and so on. However, my Recovery training has taught me the value of controlling my speech muscles. Now I let the temperamental flare quickly rise and fall, avoiding the compulsion to say what is on my mind. And my mental health is better off because of this self-control.

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.

A New Year Resolution

At this time of year, we make New Year Resolutions. Thinking about the next 12 months makes me nervous, however. Fortunately, I have my Recovery training to help me out.

A lot is ahead for me in the next 366 days (It’s a leap year :). I have a busy schedule, as I am in graduate school. Many changes are expected at my workplace, and I could be in store for a stressful year if the economy continues to sputter. One of my cats is 19 (need I say more?). Thinking about the year to come is overwhelming and stressful.

Yet Dr. Low reminds us to not work ourselves up in the preview. I’ve reminded myself to not allow my imagination to be on fire. Every year brings challenges—some good, some bad—and that’s part of an average life. Dr. Low says to enjoy times when they are good, but not get trapped in a vicious cycle when times are bad. Instead, focus on how we function, not how we feel, and like any average person I will muddle through.

Before my Recovery training I would have had no “game plan” for dealing with the year ahead. In fact, I would have worked myself up worrying about events that may never happen. Now I am more focused on the here and now and not working myself up over what may be.

Life's ups and downs

I do not like to travel by airplane. Being hundreds of feet in the air makes me nervous. However, my career requires that I travel more than once a month, so I have used my Recovery training to make the experience easier.

Recently I was on a flight that became quite bumpy; the plane went up and down and left to right. It was probably the worst turbulence I’ve experienced. Needless to say, I was in a panic. My eyes were blurry; my palms were sweaty; my body shook; my mind raced. To my astonishment, the woman next to me sat calmly with her eyes closed.

After about five minutes the turbulence was over, and when I began to regroup I applied my Recovery training. I didn’t fault myself for my reaction, as Dr. Low reminds us that we shouldn’t expect to be comfortable in an uncomfortable situation. I endorsed myself for controlling my muscles (not crying during the turbulence or disturbing the composure of the woman next to me). Afterward I remarked to a few people in the office about the bumpy trip, but I did not speak about it excessively. Before Recovery I would have told everyone I met about my “horrible” flight, thereby working myself up.

I’ve also come to realize that when I worry about the plane crashing I’m making a bid to be exceptional. There are hundreds if not thousands of flights every day across the world, and only rarely does a plane encounter trouble (and even more rarely it crashes). Instead of worrying about an exceptional event, I need to focus on the average flying experience. There will be some bumps, and some flights will be smoother than others. But overall I should not give into temper every time the plane encounters some rough air.

To help me with this, I’ve been practicing forced objectivity. For example, when I’m flying I listen to music, watch a video, or read. This way a lot of the little bumps go unnoticed—and my mental health is better for it.

Handling a triviality

In one of my classes I received a less-than-stellar grade on a group assignment. At first, I began to work myself up. My pulse quickened; my mind raced; and I began to blame myself. I had thought we had done an average, if not above average, job but the professor disagreed.

I remained in temper for several hours. I did spot that to talk it up is to work it up and avoided bringing up my disappointment with others. I avoided apologizing to other group members as excessive apologizing is a form of temper.

I have spotted that my imagination was on fire, and I have been taking steps to practice forced objectivity so I do not dwell on this triviality. I’m endorsing for my efforts.

Before Recovery, I would have called up many people to analyze this grade for hours on end. Now I know better. This is a triviality and not worth working myself up over.

A super spot

I recently began pursuing a master’s degree. After turning in one of my first assignments, the professor posted tips on how to answer some of the questions. That’s when I began to work myself up. Oh, there was plenty of time to submit a revision, but I began to work myself up over making the changes. I needed to adjust only a few answers, but I felt compelled to review all of my work. I wanted to double check all of the answers, not just those few I needed to change based on the professor’s advice. My mind started to race; my pulse quickened; and my eyes became blurry.

Then I spotted that I was facing a triviality, and that there was no need to review all of my work. I gave myself permission to make a mistake. I revised and resubmitted the assignment.

A few moments later I had a “eureka” moment, what I’m calling a “super spot.” I realized that I am not pursuing a master’s degree to be tense, miserable, and in temper for the next 18 months. I am pursuing a master’s degree to better myself. The uncomfortable feelings melted away upon this realization. This is now my guiding principle whenever I encounter temper in my studies.
Before Recovery, I would have thought about the revised assignment all night, talked it up with friends, and probably triple or quadruple checked my work. Now that I have Recovery training, I feel I’m better equipped to pursue a master’s degree. And my “super spot” will help me whenever I feel the need to be perfect in my studies.

Blurry vision--distressing but not dangerous

My most distressing symptom is blurry vision. Sometimes when I begin to read a thought of insecurity enters my mind (What if I am not reading “properly” and missing something important?). Then the usual, “old-friend” symptoms develop: racing heartbeat, shallow breathing and, most distressing to me, blurry vision. I have struggled mightily with this symptom for at least 10 years.

Through my Recovery training I have learned to spot these symptoms as distressing but not dangerous. By not attaching danger to the symptom and replacing insecure with secure thoughts, I have managed to decrease my level of discomfort and “limit the damage time.” Blurry vision is still my most troubling symptom, plaguing me virtually every day. Yet now when I experience the sensation I remember to endorse myself for the effort of reading and not the outcome (my so-called worry about “understanding”). Adopting a realist philosophy, I acknowledge that I am reading just fine—thus, it’s not how I feel but how I function.

Like many nervous people, I used to think I suffered alone. Even after joining Recovery I used to think that few people experienced blurry vision. I then decided to note every time Dr. Low discusses blurry vision in Mental Health Through Will-Training, and I was surprised how often his patients reported this symptom or Dr. Low discussed it: pages 61, 62, 65, 66, 102, 106, 112, 114, 174, 228, 240, 266, 290, 291, 308, 341, 376, 377, 379, 381, 382, 383, and 400. If you suffer with this sensation, you will likely find these references very useful and comforting.

Dr. Low addresses many symptoms, including a person who had a rectal itch (333) and severe belching (385). In the end, the actual symptom doesn’t really matter; I’ve found they change and evolve over time, sometimes receding while others pop up. Symptoms are like weeds. You can cut them down but unless you uproot them, they’ll keep on coming back. To people without and even those with nervous symptoms, many sensations seem foreign, strange, and bizarre, but for the sufferer they are quite real and distressing. Thankfully Dr. Low provides us with a simple but effective method for addressing all symptoms, no matter what they may be.

Reference
1. Low AA. Chapter 46: Symptoms must be attacked where they are weakest. Mental Health Through Will-Training. 3rd ed. Glencoe, Ill.: Willett, 1997.

Finding the weakest link

As I've mentioned here many times, dropping the belief in danger is key to overcoming nervous symptoms. Of course, this is easier said than done.

Dr. Low gives us tips for doing this, including replacing insecure thoughts with secure thoughts. Taking the emergency out of the situation makes a big difference too.

I have found that these tools work particularly well with "new" symptoms. For example, a week ago I was really dreading making a call to my handyman. Temper certainly was blocking the light of logic, as I'm on the phone all day at work; why should one more call bother me in any way? Yet every time I thought about making this particular call my heart would race, my hands would become sweaty, and my mind would be filled with insecure thoughts. After a couple days of this torture I spotted that calling a handyman, and spending money on home repairs, makes me uncomfortable, and that is an average reaction for an average frustration. So I moved my muscles and made the call, and quickly the agony went away. I endorsed for putting my mental health first. Before Recovery I would have spent a lot more time working myself up before making the call.

For my "old friend" symptoms replacing insecure thoughts has been more difficult. This is really not surprising, as these problems did not develop overnight and they won't ease that quickly either (that would be exceptional, and Dr. Low advises us to be average). In this case Dr. Low tells us to attack symptoms at their weakest link. I recently read his thoughts on this subject (1) and found his words reassuring. While my symptoms are more intense outside the home, the key to reducing their intensity is to start addressing them at home, where they are not as intense. Dr. Low elaborates:

"Suppose you wish to become an airplane pilot. You will first work on prints and models, then on parts, then on machines of simple design, and only in the last stages of your apprenticeship, will you venture to manipulate the more powerful engines. This gradual progression, from relatively simple to increasingly more complex tasks, is the system by means of which every method is learned.... If a patient suffers from an explosive temper, it will be easier for him to control it where the temperamental deadlock is mild than where it is in full blaze." (1, 381)

By attacking symptoms at their weakest link, Dr. Low assures us we will improve. And that is indeed a secure thought.

Reference
1. Low AA. Chapter 46: Symptoms must be attacked where they are weakest. Mental Health Through Will-Training. 3rd ed. Glencoe, Ill.: Willett, 1997; 376-84.

Everybody has fear--not everyone develops a vicious cycle

Ah, wouldn’t it be wonderful to live without fear? I think this is a common fantasy for nervous people. In fact, when we observe people around us, we often think that these “normal” people must have such “easy” lives, free from the tortures we experience every day.

Yet Dr. Low reminds us that fear is a normal, healthy emotion:

“How can you live in this world—or in any other world it seems to me—without having fear? If you have no fear, this means you have no capacity to feel what is going on. If you have no fear, then I doubt whether you will have loved. I doubt it. You see, that sounds very attractive to be without fear, but that can’t be done. If you are without fear, then you are not human. Then you are angelic perhaps and saintly, but I told you what I want you to be: average, human and not saintly.” (1, 75)

Dr. Low elaborates on the difference between nervous people and other folks:

“[T]he average person has fears, and headaches, and numbness, and develops a palpitation here and a pressure there, but if he feels average, then he takes it for granted that this is coming to him and therefore doesn’t work himself up over it. If he feels average, he will not blame himself for having palpitations, not even for having the feeling that he is dying away. He will simply take it for granted that he is an average human being with the average human limitations.” (1, 75)

We nervous people attach danger to palpitations, blurry vision, tightened chests, rapid breathing, and other “everyday” symptoms, and thus we work ourselves up into vicious cycles. Eliminating that belief in danger is what will free us from the discomfort associated with these symptoms.

So lately when my eyes are blurry and my breathing shallow (“old friends” of mine) I stop what I’m doing and remind myself that no danger is involved in the activity, that the feelings and sensations may be distressing but are not dangerous. I command my muscles (eyes, lungs) to carry out the task at hand (reading, breathing). And when it’s complete I heartily endorse myself—not for the outcome, whatever that may be, but for the effort I invested in improving my mental health.

Reference
1. Low AA. Manage Your Fears, Manage Your Anger: A Psychiatrist Speaks. Willett; Glencoe, Ill.: 1995.

The power of secure thinking

I often have written that thoughts of danger are what drive and underlie our nervous symptoms. I recently reread some of Dr. Low’s remarks that illustrate this point eloquently:

“Nervous symptoms are the result of tenseness, and if you ‘spot them as distressing but not dangerous,’ you dismiss the idea of danger; and without the thought of danger in your brain, you feel safe; and if you feel safe, you relax; and if you relax, you lose your tenseness; and with tenseness gone, the symptom disappears.” (1, 140)

At first blush this sounds too good to be true—can it really be that simple? The hard truth is, yes, we are buying into (or, as Dr. Low would say, “pampering”) thoughts of danger. This is at the root of our symptoms. As Dr. Low notes:

“[T]he fundamental principle of Recovery [is] that symptoms can be conquered by means of simple and innocent procedures initiated by the patient, i.e., through self-help.” (1, 126)

We all suffer from nervous sensations and feelings—they make us so uncomfortable. Of course, we can’t simply change them at a moment’s notice. “Feelings and sensations cannot be stopped, calmed or controlled by deliberate effort,” Dr. Low says, adding, “thoughts and impulses alone are subject to control” (1, 136). Thus, embrace secure thoughts and your feelings and sensations will adjust accordingly.

This doesn’t happen at the drop of a hat at first, but as one of Dr. Low’s patients remarked:

“You can throw off any nervous symptom at any time for a few seconds or minutes if you spot them as distressing but not dangerous. The symptom will come back in the next minute or so. But you can get rid of it again for a short while, and then again and again. And before long, you will be rid of the trouble for hours or for the days. The symptom will return and keep returning, but in the end, you will bring it under control by plugging away at it.... That was hard for me to believe. It just didn’t seem to make sense that an awful head pressure would disappear if I made an effort to spot it. But I can tell you that when I have these symptoms now, all I have to do is practice Dr. Low’s rule, and before long, they are gone.” (1, 139)

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