Shades of fear

When faced with multiple options, I often find it difficult to make a decision. I suspect this is an average situation for a nervous person. Recently I decided to paint my kitchen, and choosing a color can be a daunting task for me. There are just too many choices! But as Dr. Low reminds us, any decision will steady us, so I chose a color (“Bungalow Gold”) and got to work.

As I was painting, though, I realized that the color was way too dark. I decided to finish the kitchen so I could take in the whole view, and my hunch was confirmed; my kitchen “shrank” with such a deep hue. I could feel angry temper well up inside me, as I scolded myself for not making a better decision, and I also felt fearful temper, as I wondered how others would view my “mistake.” I take a lot of pride in my home, and I admit I often have strived to have the “perfect” residence, worthy of HGTV.

Yet instead of working myself up this time, I left the kitchen; went to bed; and re-evaluated the situation in the morning. I still felt the color was too dark, so I reprimed the walls and selected a different color (“Pear”). I also lowered my standards, reminding myself that this was not something that should threaten my mental health.

Before Recovery, I would have went into a full-fledged panic over this situation. I definitely would have called a lot of my friends—and, as Dr. Low says, to talk it up is to work it up. Although I forgot to endorse myself at the time, I’m endorsing myself now for not working up this triviality.

Preventing temper from taking off

This week I had to travel for work, and both my outgoing and incoming flights were delayed. When I was returning home, the plane had to return to the gate twice before we boarded another plane!

Before Recovery, I certainly would have worked up these situations, lamenting the “injustice” and “unfairness” of them. I did have a brief flare of temper, but I recognized—and spotted—this as average. I didn’t work it up. I acknowledged that disappointments are part of everyday life, and that flight delays are really trivialities. I did not let my angry or fearful temper to develop into symptoms.

I forgot to endorse myself for handling these situations so well, so I’m endorsing myself now. While other passengers were obviously irritated, I remained cool, calm, and collected. I am so thankful for my Recovery training!

Working through symptoms

Symptoms, symptoms, symptoms. This is Recovery language for all of those head pressures, electrifying zaps, heavy breathing spells, tightness, and other feelings and sensations that can make living with anxiety so miserable.

One of my most disturbing sensations is blurry vision. When I become anxious it becomes difficult to focus or read (or at least that is what I have told myself). I have had this problem for about 10 years, during which I’ve worked this up into a vicious cycle. In fact, I thought I was the only person who suffered with this symptom until I came to Recovery, in which I met people who have this symptom as well as read about them in Dr. Low’s works:

“Harriette was tortured by ‘headaches and nausea and fatigue and dizzy spells, by weak spells and palpitations.’ Her ears ached and her eyes blurred and her throat choked….” (Emphasis added) (1)

I have been in Recovery since last May—reading Dr. Low’s works and attending meetings—and I still do have blurry vision. However, I now know that when I’m having this sensation, I can control my thoughts: I do not need to “react” to this. I can remind myself that yes, this sensation is distressing, but it is not dangerous. While I may feel that anything I do while I have this sensation will turn out wrong, that is not a fact. (One of my relatives likes to remind me that I always will perform in a reasonable way.) If I make a mistake, it’s no big deal—mistakes are average and happen to everyone, whether they have a bout of blurry vision or not.

Hopefully some day I won’t deal with this sensation anymore. But in the meantime I now have the tools to cope with—and ultimately conquer—this problem.

Reference
1. Low AA. Mental Health Through Will-Training. Glencoe, Ill.: Willett Publishing Co.; 1997;65.

I’ve trained for this

On Monday morning—a particularly cold morning—I got into my car and turned the key. I did not like what I heard. The engine made a low groan and it wouldn’t start. After a few tries it finally did, and that’s when I began to work myself up.

Thoughts began to race through my mind: What does this mean? Should I get the car checked out? What type of bill am I looking at? Will I make it to work? And sensations flowed over my body: feelings of heat, quickened breathing, blurred vision, and racing heart.

A car repair shop is not far from my house, so I drove there, all the while experiencing these disturbing sensations and thoughts. When I arrived, I hesitated about going in, knowing that I tend to overreact in such situations and this has cost me real dollars in the past (for no good reason). I called—and knowingly woke up—a friend for advice, but he really couldn’t help me.

Then I spotted.

I realized I was going into a panic over a triviality. The car was running just fine now, so there was no real danger. And, most importantly, I realized that I trained for this. With my Recovery training, I know how to handle such situations. I realized that by waking my friend I was not being group minded, and now I needed to make a decision, as any firm decision would steady me.

Instead of going into the shop, I decided to drive to work. Since Monday I haven’t had any car problems, but I’m going to check out the battery tomorrow. I’m very proud of how I handled this situation (with the exception of waking up my friend). In the past I would have been confused and flustered for days, no matter what course of action I took. Instead, I assessed the situation, took action, and agreed to live with the consequences, disregarding any discomfort involved. And for this I gave myself a hearty endorsement.

The best present

This Christmas I gave myself the best gift—an endorsement.

When my relatives were debating a particular religious view on which I did not agree, I controlled my speech muscles by not voicing my opinion. Before Recovery I would have felt compelled to share my perspective, which inevitably would have led to an argument and tension on a day in which we are supposed to celebrate harmony and tolerance. So instead of seeking a symbolic victory by trying to prove that my beliefs are the "right" ones, I simply focused on something else while they discussed their opinions. And, of course, before long the topic changed. I chose peace over power and was group minded. I didn't allow the need to be "right" take over my day and avoided the resulting confusion, doubt, and anger. Essentially, I practiced what Recovery and Christmas are all about.

Tolerating discomfort

One of the most difficult things we are challenged to do in our Recovery training is to not work up our symptoms. When our pulse quickens, our mind races, our eyes blur, it’s so easy to give into these feelings, accept them as valid, and react accordingly.

Yet Dr. Low challenged us to not let these feelings overtake our lives. He reminded us that “feelings are not facts” and that while feelings and sensations cannot be controlled, we can control our thoughts and impulses—our reactions to these disturbances.

Essentially Dr. Low was telling us to just keep moving on with our lives—no matter how uncomfortable we may feel. This can be extremely challenging because fearful symptoms can be extremely convincing. But Dr. Low assured us that if we truly have the will to bear discomfort, our symptoms will abate. We will improve. That is the promise of Recovery.

So when I spot myself working myself up, one of my favorite tools to use is to remind myself that these are just sensations—and sensations might be distressing, but they are not dangerous. And because feelings are not facts, I can continue with the task at hand no matter what my symptoms are. This sense of empowerment and hope makes me so glad that this year I discovered Recovery.

I am an apprentice

Dr. Low made it clear that practicing Recovery means really applying the method—not just understanding it. I find myself spotting angry temper flares most easily. These are not as common as my flares of fearful temper, so in general I’m able to quickly spot and not begin a vicious cycle.

It’s a different story with fearful temper. Usually I’m “on edge” all day, so it’s difficult to “continuously” spot and reassure myself with secure thoughts and the Recovery tools. It takes a lot of work, in fact. I know intellectually what I’m supposed to do, but I often feel I’m not applying the method effectively.

Yet I know enough about Recovery to accept that this is just an average situation. There’s no need to work up these feelings, and the best course of action is to continue reading the books, attending meetings, and applying the method.

So when I read Dr. Low’s lecture on apprenticeship I felt much better about my progress. He reminds us that we are apprentices learning a new skill, and this is accomplished neither quickly nor easily:

“What would happen to our workers—to our craftsmen—if, when they begin their apprenticeship, they should become discouraged the first day? We would have no craftsmen. And yet that is what our patients do. They have a passion for becoming discouraged. They have a passion to be discouraged, and that means they don’t consider themselves apprentices.” (1)

Looking at recovery from nervous conditions as an apprenticeship is a refreshing perspective. Not only does it make sense, it is a much more authentic philosophy than many of the anxiety “quick fixes” that are hawked. Once again, Dr. Low’s enduring wisdom shines through.

Reference
1. Low AA. Lecture 11: The patient is an apprentice. In: Manage Your Fears, Manage Your Anger: A Psychiatrist Speaks. Glencoe, Il.: Willett Publishing Co.; 1995; 57-64.