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.

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.

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.

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.

Accepting averageness

Recently a friend confided in me that he is having problems with his significant other. He wants him to be more loving, more talkative, more giving, and so on. When I suggested that he was asking his partner to be exceptional, he was surprised by my observation. I reminded him that Dr. Low says we should not expect the exceptional from ourselves and others, and we would forgo much misery if we accepted others (and ourselves) for their average.

This sounds simple but can be difficult in practice. We are disappointed when someone doesn’t meet our expectations, but we need to step back and evaluate whether those expectations were reasonable. In my friend’s case, if his partner was not customarily affectionate, why should he raise his temper and develop angry/nervous symptoms for expecting him to be more affectionate? Dr. Low says we do not need to accept relationships we find unfulfilling, but we will avoid much misery and personal turmoil if we acknowledge people’s averages and do not expect—or demand—them to be exceptional.

We need to apply this concept to ourselves, too. For example, I am usually nervous when an airplane takes off. That’s my average. I would be employing exceptional thinking if I expected otherwise. So instead of working myself up and developing angry/nervous systems over being anxious, I should accept that these sensations are normal—that is, average—for me, remind myself that feelings are not facts, and practice forced objectivity by focusing on a book during takeoff. Over time this practice likely will change my average experience, and I will have a new average in which I don’t give plane rides a second thought. In the meantime, though, why should I get angry at myself for experiencing average sensations? Why should I feel disappointed or angry at myself for not meeting an exceptional standard?

Dr. Low’s concept of averageness is one of his most powerful teachings. It’s counterintuitive to our inclination to want to change people or constantly demand more from ourselves. We do not have to accept abusive situations or relationships that are unfulfilling, and we should strive to improve our long-term average when we are dissatisfied with our current performance. But in the meantime recognizing that others and ourselves generally adhere to average patterns can help us avoid anger and fear that otherwise cloud our lives and disrupt our well-being.

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.  

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.

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.