One thing that has been happening this year is that i'm learning more about my (mild) depression and (major) anxiety. The depression manifests as a kind of paralyzed, catatonic state where i don't want to do anything. it makes it hard for me to trust my own rhythms of rest and activity.
Anxiety is a physical experience above all else. its like a cord that runs through my skin is being cinched slowly until i feel overwhelmingly uncomfortable and eventually overwhelmed by pain; crazed, desperate to crawl out of my skin and myself. the other night it was so bad all i could do was curl up in desperation, crying and frantic. in those moments there's just nothing. to do. usually i hit a peak and then slowly retreat from there. social interactions tend to make it worse, and can amplify it by ridiculous amounts. often it feels like twin chords climbing up my back and wrapping around my head. squeezing my head and choking me simultaneously. there's little rational thought available in these moments. like a friend once said, its like you reached up to get your tool box down from the high shelf and it slipped, smalling into your head and you just black out with useless tools scattered around uselessly.
Its taken me along time to admit that this is part of who i am. because there's no on-the-surface reason for it. my life is awesome. i'm super lucky and very privileged. i shouldn't need anything, especially from other people.
things that help, if i can manage to do them: exercise, eating, hydrating (sometimes there's a bad cycle that happens where i'm stressed and anxious, and feeding myself becomes an insurmountable chore, which feeds the cycle). tai chi. meditating. playing music. singing. dancing. all these can take the edge off but often the full blown version is still close at hand, ready to climb back to fever pitch at any moment. physical contact is one thing that cuts through it more quickly and deeply than anything. i think this is why i have always craved it so much. it is so grounding and gives me such a sense of peace and solidity. right now i get very little if any physical contact. and my anxiety cycles have been running pretty quick on top of each other.
i've been thinking about how many of my teachers have dedicated the majority of their lives and energy to the particular thing that they are teaching me: tai chi, country fiddle, ortho-bionomy, improvisational music, singing. And how i am dedicating my life to about 15 different things. so, maybe i'll never be as good as them at any one of those things. or maybe i'm just that awesome that i can succeed wildly at anything i put a significant amount of energy too. But most importantly, each one of those things is a life-line for me when things get dark and horrible in the void of my internal chaos. the more lifelines i have, the better.
Anxiety is a physical experience above all else. its like a cord that runs through my skin is being cinched slowly until i feel overwhelmingly uncomfortable and eventually overwhelmed by pain; crazed, desperate to crawl out of my skin and myself. the other night it was so bad all i could do was curl up in desperation, crying and frantic. in those moments there's just nothing. to do. usually i hit a peak and then slowly retreat from there. social interactions tend to make it worse, and can amplify it by ridiculous amounts. often it feels like twin chords climbing up my back and wrapping around my head. squeezing my head and choking me simultaneously. there's little rational thought available in these moments. like a friend once said, its like you reached up to get your tool box down from the high shelf and it slipped, smalling into your head and you just black out with useless tools scattered around uselessly.
Its taken me along time to admit that this is part of who i am. because there's no on-the-surface reason for it. my life is awesome. i'm super lucky and very privileged. i shouldn't need anything, especially from other people.
 |
| it can get pretty dark in there |
things that help, if i can manage to do them: exercise, eating, hydrating (sometimes there's a bad cycle that happens where i'm stressed and anxious, and feeding myself becomes an insurmountable chore, which feeds the cycle). tai chi. meditating. playing music. singing. dancing. all these can take the edge off but often the full blown version is still close at hand, ready to climb back to fever pitch at any moment. physical contact is one thing that cuts through it more quickly and deeply than anything. i think this is why i have always craved it so much. it is so grounding and gives me such a sense of peace and solidity. right now i get very little if any physical contact. and my anxiety cycles have been running pretty quick on top of each other.
i've been thinking about how many of my teachers have dedicated the majority of their lives and energy to the particular thing that they are teaching me: tai chi, country fiddle, ortho-bionomy, improvisational music, singing. And how i am dedicating my life to about 15 different things. so, maybe i'll never be as good as them at any one of those things. or maybe i'm just that awesome that i can succeed wildly at anything i put a significant amount of energy too. But most importantly, each one of those things is a life-line for me when things get dark and horrible in the void of my internal chaos. the more lifelines i have, the better.
No comments:
Post a Comment