Tag Archives: anxiety

What’s My Name Again?

Posted on October 24, 2010 | 4 comments

I currently volunteer at the public library’s adult literacy program, Project Read. It’s very satisfying, and it gets me out of the apartment.

I started the program last November, and after going through training, I was assigned someone–let’s call him Mr. C–in January. So I’ve been working with him for almost ten months. For the first six months or so we met once a week for about two hours a session; and for the past 4 months we’ve been meeting twice a month, two hours each.

Anyway, things have been going well, until our meeting earlier this week, that is. We met, as usual. Started chatting, as usual. Baseball, weather, public transit, that sort of thing. Then the conversation drifted toward smart phones, and Mr. C mentioned that he just purchased one. I asked if he got a new number and he said yes, and then I asked for it and he gave it to me, and then he asked for mine, and as he was putting my number in his phone, he asked–

“What’s your name again? Mike, right?”

I froze. For the most part, I don’t get much anxiety around him. We’ve been meeting regularly for so long, I’ve been able to open up (somewhat). I think things can be very awkward between us, though. I don’t really know what I’m doing, and I believe he can see this lack of confidence, but other than that, I feel relaxed around him. Because of this, I said exactly what was on my mind, without filtering it first–

“We’ve been meeting since January and you don’t know my name by now,” I said. This came out in a very harsh tone. I was pissed. “It’s Mike.”

I had to go to the bathroom to cool off. When I got back, I started editing his writing. We just moved on.

In retrospect, I’m angry at myself. I’m angry because I allowed my emotions to get the best of me. It’s not about him–it’s about me. There could be any number of reasons why he didn’t remember my name. Maybe he was trying to clarify whether I go by Mike or Michael. Maybe he has anxiety issues too and maybe he was flooded with anxiety when we met. I know I often don’t listen as well when I’m flooded. Whatever the reason, it doesn’t matter. I’m angry at myself.

But I should be happy because I was able to be present and say what was on my mind without judgment and scrutiny, but–and there’s always a but–I still wish I could have been a little easier on Mr. C–and myself.

Yet another example of my perfectionism.

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Posted in perfectionism, social anxiety, uncategorized

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interview success

Posted on October 20, 2010 | 11 comments

So, as many of you know, I had a group interview yesterday. The interview was originally scheduled for last week, but I canceled last minute because I was overwhelmed with anxiety. Fortunately, I found a good, partially true excuse and was able to reschedule for yesterday.

I already had one interview with them a few weeks back with the library director. It went well. It was very relaxed. We talked about my future and what areas I’d like to work in–nothing too formal. At the end of the interview, she mentioned that she wanted me to come back in to meet with her and the rest of the librarians. I said fine. On the way out, I asked her how many librarians worked there and she said ten, and she also said that out of those ten there are a few who aren’t receptive to interns.

That information hit me hard–not only am I going to be interviewed by ten people; not all of them want me there to begin with. And since I take everything personal, I took this personal.

This set off my hypothetical mind; I began thinking of different scenarios of what this interview would be like. Mostly I just pictured ten librarians sitting across from me, asking difficult question after difficult question. Me, barely able to breath, stumbling, blushing, sweating.

My original interview was on a Thursday, and we scheduled the next one for the following Monday. I was a mess that weekend. Actually, I think I probably wrote a post about it. Anyway, the anxiety intensified to a point where I couldn’t function. I couldn’t sleep Sunday night and had to reschedule for yesterday.

From that point until today, though, I’ve been doing great. So what’s different about this past week from the week before?

Well, for starters, my thoughts haven’t controlled me. The negative thoughts were still there–they just didn’t dominate my consciousness. Part of this is attributed to CBT, the other part mindfulness. By becoming aware of my thoughts, before they took control, I could use cognitive techniques to ensure that they wouldn’t take control.

Next, I began to use meditation to help me relax. Two hours before the interview, I was laying in the bath, listening to a meditation. Once I got out I felt at peace. This feeling carried me into the interview.

Finally, I hashed out the situation with my hypnotherapist on Friday, meaning: we tried to look at my hypothetical scenarios in a different light.

“What’s your worst fear?” she asked me.

“To get up at the end and have to go down a line of ten librarians, shaking each of their hands,” I said. “They’ll see how much I’m sweating.”

“Do you really think it will be like that?” she asked.

As soon as she said that it was clear: there’s no way it would be like that. I may have to wave goodbye, but shaking hands with ten people sounds absurd, and it certainly wouldn’t all be in one line. I always feel so much better after playing out scenarios in my head. Seeing just how absurd my thinking can be, reminds me that my logic can be irrational at times.

The interview, itself, went well. I met only with the library director and one other librarian–no biggie, especially since I was expecting ten people. I did have to engage in a formal interview, but it went well. The director called one of my references earlier today. I think I got. Hurray!

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Posted in cbt, interventions, social anxiety, spirituality, therapy

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on binging

Posted on October 16, 2010 | 3 comments

I haven’t felt well the past few days. I’ve experience several ups and downs, including one period of depression where I thought I’d have to binge in order to bring myself back up again. Fortunately, I kept control and didn’t binge, and eventually my mood brightened and I began to function again.

It’s really strange that something so destructive (my binges) can make me feel whole again. I like to call it a release while my therapist calls it avoidance or suppression … regardless, I feel so much better after I binge. Actually, I want to step back: I want look a little closer at what happens before, during, and after a binge (because I just love breaking things down into tiny, manageable pieces). Without going into too much detail, before a binge I’m low–really low, obviously. My body, my mind, everything aches. There’s tension, there’s stress, there’s negative thoughts. Usually, I’ve stirred up some feelings or memories that I haven’t touched in a while. My brain feels mushy; there’s no other way to describe it.

When the actual decision is made (most of the time I feel like it’s already made for me beforehand) to go out to get food or alcohol–whatever I’m feeling like at the time, depending on the time of day (I never drink during the day, except maybe on the weekends or some holidays … ), etc–shame and guilt hit me. Before I even go to get the food, there’s guilt for what I’m about to do. But not enough guilt to stop me from doing it in the first place. At the store, when I’m picking up the ice cream or burrito or beer, the shame only increases. I feel like the cashiers know me by now. When they’re all together at some bar after work, they talk about me, referring to me as the “binger” or “loser”, that sort of thing. They know exactly how sad and depressed I am, because I wear my feelings on the outside. Everybody knows, for that matter.

After the food is obtained, my heart starts racing and my mood begins to lift. I have to get home as soon as possible. I race back, running up the stairs two at a time, and then consume … and consume … and consume. In all, it probably takes me less than thirty minutes to eat a burrito and a pint or quart of ice cream (my staples). If I’m drinking, though, I like to spread out six beers over a period of three or four hours. I hate getting drunk. My only goal is to get rid of the feelings.

The actual consuming is all done unconsciously. I usually plop myself in front of my computer, watching an episode of Star Trek or Seinfeld while shoving the food down my throat. There are no thoughts, the feelings disperse. Sometimes I’ll catch my reflection in the computer screen which causes me to pull back a little and assess the situation. I begin to feel shame, regret, remorse, anxiety … but before the feelings can take a hold of me I return to the food, unconscious once again.

When I’m done, the feelings begin to return little by little, but they’re different. Less tangible, and more abstract. They’re probably deeper in my body, too. Then, they start to grow again and I feel worse and worse, but, again, they’re still different. I’m not depressed or hopeless, but I just feel so much shame and regret. Eventually, those feelings disperse and I’m left with just a sense of contention. What’s done is done, my mind says. Pull yourself together. You have a future, you have worth. It’s like I have to hit some sort of rock bottom to see things clearly. When you’re down, the only place to go is up.

On Thursday I really felt giving into the temptation. The triggers were there, the environment was just right. But rather than giving in, I pushed through using a combination of awareness and cognitive techniques. I caught the thoughts before they could take control of me. I then distracted myself, and, finally, I replaced my negative thoughts with positive one’s.

It was a minor victory, but I learned something extremely valuable–I learned how to take back control. In the end, though, it’s not about controlling my thoughts or feelings or urges, because they may always be there; instead, it’s about not letting them control me.

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Posted in alcohol, binges, cbt, depression, food, negative thinking, self-harm, theory

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Perfectionism: Past, Present, and Future

Posted on October 13, 2010 | 6 comments

Like most kids, I experienced lots of changes when I entered middle school. Most of my good friends from elementary school attended different middle schools, and that, coupled with the enormous pressure to fit in, meant a lot of change for me. I had to find a new clique–and fast. And I could no longer just be me. I had to be something different, something better and more profound. Suddenly, I desired popularity–everybody had to like me and seek me out for friendship.

Again, I wasn’t the only one experiencing change, but taking genetic factors into account, I believe change was harder for me (boohoo, poor me). I scrutinized, analyzed and reflected on everything I did, every move I made. Sixth grade was a very difficult year, and it was probably difficult for a lot of my peers. It’s a normal process for kids to go through, but for me, it was the start of my perfectionist tendencies–and the beginning of Social Anxiety Disorder.

I took every “failure” hard. When I didn’t get picked first for dodgeball in gym it wasn’t because I didn’t know the person picking very well or because I may not have done very well athletically the last time we played dodgeball, but because I was inferior, ugly, and altogether unlikeable. If I didn’t get an A+ on a math test I failed, and I had to do better the next time. I felt terrible when I didn’t get invited to a movie or to sit at a certain table at lunch or to a birthday party–all because of my inherent, negative qualities that everyone could see. I took everything personally. If I wasn’t first, I was last, and, more often than not, I was last. If I knew I couldn’t win at something, I wouldn’t even try. I stopped putting myself out there for friends, focusing less on things I couldn’t control and more on tangibles that I could control like my appearance and test scores.

And, since it’s impossible to always be number one and in total control of everything, I began to withdraw. I withdrew from sports because I was no longer the most athletic person. I stopped hanging out with certain friends because they were smarter, better looking, or funnier than me. I stopped raising my hand in class because whatever I had to say was never good enough.

I told myself I didn’t really want the things I so desperately wanted. When I didn’t get invited somewhere, I always found an excuse why I didn’t want to go in the first place. This not only made me feel like shit; it fueled my perfectionism, as well. If you tell yourself you don’t want something that you really want, it only fuels the desire. So, by telling myself I didn’t want to go to the movies with friends, for example, this only intensified my desire to connect and be included.

Even when I found a clique to hang out with, I still didn’t feel accepted. I had to always be on guard for the slightest signs that my new friends didn’t really want to be friends with me–they just “allowed” me to hang around because they felt sorry for me or something. Every word, every look, everything they did, I analyzed. And when you look at everything that closely, you’re bound to find something–and I did.

Over time, the things I found built up until I couldn’t trust anybody anymore, and I dumped all my friends.

***

Perfectionism is an ugly beast which has dominated most of my life. It started in middle school; its voice developed in high school and college, growing stronger and stronger; and it continues to control my life today–even in this very moment. As I write this, the voice in the back of my head is saying–

No one likes you or your little blog. You can’t write and, besides, nobody cares about your thoughts anyway. You should just give up.

***

So, now that I know all this, the obvious question for me is how do I control this perfectionist voice? I don’t think it’s a matter of control. I’m never going to be able to control my thoughts. Thoughts come, thoughts go. It’s up to me, though, to decide if I grab a hold of those thoughts and give them power or not.

For example, just yesterday I had some negative thoughts regarding my therapy appointment–

You’re not making any progress in therapy, they said. Your therapist is getting frustrated. Eventually he’ll quit on you; so you should quit first to avoid getting hurt.

When they came I immediately told myself to STOP! In that moment I made a choice not to let my thoughts drag me down. Instead, I focused on something else, and eventually the thoughts went away, losing their power. This obviously took a lot of awareness and practice, practice, practice on my part. Honestly, nine times out of ten, I let my thoughts get the best of me. But I am learning.

Changing my thoughts changes the way I feel, countering my perfectionist tendencies. It will take time and considerable effort, patience and persistence. The important thing is that I don’t give up because that’s what my perfectionist voice wants: to be fueled by my own pessimism.

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Posted in friends, negative thinking, past, perfectionism, social anxiety, social anxiety disorder, theory

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Past Decisions

Posted on October 11, 2010 | 2 comments

So, as you can tell, I like reflecting on the past. Call me a masochist, or whatever. But I enjoy stirring up memories and emotions from the past that I don’t normally touch on a day-to-day basis. I don’t think it helps alleviate the anxiety per se, but finding the sources helps me to better understand the world I’m living in today–which is a long-term goal of mine.

That said, lately I’ve been reflecting on my time in school, specifically college, because most people I encounter with social anxiety have a lot of problems in classroom settings. I did not however, well not on the surface at least.

Somehow I made it through my undergraduate studies without making one classroom presentation. I took a speech class, but it was on intrapersonal communication. I also chose an objective-based major (business), focusing on the sciences rather than the arts. Those classes relied more on facts than ideas and opinions. I felt fine participating in class discussions because I never had to reveal anything about myself. I could just say a quick fact and the attention would move to someone else.

What’s more, I took five humanities classes, as I minored in Philosophy, and even in those classes, I found ways to not participate. On days where I knew professors would open up the class to discussion, I wouldn’t show up. I had no problem doing the actual work–readings, attending lectures, tests etc–but when it came down to actually sharing how I interpreted something in front of others, I could never do it. The same goes for the other humanities classes I took. It’s really hard for me to admit this, but I have a much stronger interest in the arts, and subjective knowledge in general, than  science-based subjects. If I could do everything all over again, I probably would major in Philosophy or English.

Everything I do in life is so dependent on my anxiety. Every time I make a decision, I ask myself, Can I do this? Will my anxiety let me do this? It’s sad to think about how many times I’ve had to do something I don’t really like doing because I’m so hindered by anxiety.

When will it end? Will I ever have control over my life?

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Posted in past, social anxiety, theory

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No Relief

Posted on October 10, 2010 | 4 comments

I’ve been overwhelmed with anxiety and depression these past few days. I honestly don’t know how I’m writing this post right now. My thoughts feel far away, I can’t connect with them. I wish I could describe to you the feelings going on inside my body–but I just can’t. My hands are pretty much shaking right now. I’m honestly scared. All I can think about is food, alcohol, and Ativan–those are the only things that will bring me relief. I’m going to try to push through it and just sit here and suffer, but I don’t know how long I can hold out for. I need relief.

Depression hit me on Friday, which carried into Saturday and on into today. I can’t seem to shake it. I tried drinking on Friday, and I binged on food yesterday. Neither brought any relief.

Anxiety has been with me too, especially anticipatory. I have to go to another interview at the library I’m trying to intern at in the Spring tomorrow. Supposedly I have to meet with all the librarians at once. All ten of them. I’ve been going over in my mind what that will be like. In every scenario I fail, and even when I do win, and get the internship, things will just get worse, because I will then actually have to engage with people in the Spring. A part of me doesn’t want to get this internship at all. I’d rather just sit at home, where I feel comfortable.

I increased my dose of Lamictal today to 50 mg. I really wish that would start working, I want to feel some relief, but for now all I feel like doing is covering myself with a blanket and crying.

What’s more, outside it’s sunny and warm, and all I can think about is everybody else in the world enjoying the day, without me.

I want to say more, but I can’t.

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Posted in alcohol, depression, food, interventions, medication, social anxiety

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anxiety attack, interview, yoga

Posted on October 8, 2010 | 2 comments

Wednesday night. I turned off all the lights, got into bed and shoved my head between two pillows. I felt ill. My head throbbed, my stomach hurt. I was sweating, and it was difficult to breathe and almost impossible to stop the negative thoughts. My heart pounded loudly. I could feel each and every beat, and I expected each one to be my last. After a few minutes, I got up and took an Ativan, and after it kicked in, I went to bed.

In the morning I took another Ativan and then went to an interview for an internship (in the spring) at an academic library. It went really well. I’m pretty sure I got it. I’m crawling back into the real world, one step (err, Ativan) at a time.

On that note, I’m a little closer to getting hired by the public library. I’ve been trying to get in for the last six or seven months or so. This week I found out I passed the civil service exam, and I’m currently tenth on the list for the position(s) I’m going for. My hope is that once the person in charge of hiring sees that I am in Library Science school, they’ll bump me to the top!

The rest of Thursday felt great, and I had all but forgotten Wednesday’s setback. You see, I was feeling down about something (probably resulting from anticipatory anxiety about Thursday’s interview) and fatigued. I wanted to just binge and watch Star Trek, but instead, I went to the gym and killed myself on the treadmill. I’ve been running a lot lately and need to take a break, so even though I didn’t go as far as usual, my run took a lot out of me. Once done, I staggered off the treadmill, skipped stretching, staggered down the stairs and into the shower, and then limped back up the stars and all the way home. And then I ate ice cream for dinner.

Yes, you could call that a setback. But it’s okay: I wasn’t perfect, and I’m fine with that. I don’t expect to feel good all the time.

The rest of Thursday went well. I met my girlfriend later, and we went to yoga.

“Slow your movements down,” the teacher said, “link it to your breath. Let your breath catch up.”

Maybe I should slow down, instead of always planning, thinking and anticipating, letting the world catch up to me? I try to live my life one step ahead, but I just don’t think I can do it anymore. I’m tired of living the way I am. I need change.

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Posted in depression, interventions, medication, negative thinking, social anxiety, spirituality

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judgments, criticisms and star trek

Posted on October 7, 2010 | 1 comment

I’m afraid of judgments and criticisms, real or imagined. I take them hard, at their face value, and I carry them with me, forever.

For example–

  1. 17 years ago a kid on my school bus said I looked different (not in those words, of course), and I still believe I look different, in the exact same way.
  2. Ten years ago a classmate said I was stupid because I couldn’t verbalize my thoughts, because of my anxiety. Now, whenever I have trouble connecting with my thoughts, I tell myself I’m stupid.
  3. Two years ago a co-worker said I wasn’t approachable because I never smile. To this day, I still feel like I’m unapproachable, in every single situation, and I put immense pressure on myself to smile.

To me, all judgments are objective truths. I know that sounds irrational–and it is–but sometimes my logic is irrational.

In a Star Trek episode I watched today, Data found it puzzling that human beings feel the need to compete with one another. Counselor Troi clarified by saying, “Humans sometimes find it helpful to have an outsider set the standard by which they’re judged.”

“To avoid deceiving oneself,” Data said.

That’s exactly how I feel. The way I see myself is based not only on actual judgments, but on how I believe people perceive me. I use imagined, or hypothetical, judgments to paint a picture of myself, so I don’t deceive myself. They keep me in check, and they fuel my perfectionism.

I don’t want to be judged so I visualize how people could judge me in a given situation, and then try to “correct” my behavior so I don’t fall prey to those very judgments.

What’s more, more often than not, “correcting” my behavior means mimicking how others act. I need to fit in so bad because I don’t want to be judged, I can never be who I am. I can never be me. I just stay in the background, avoiding people and keeping my mouth shut.

Finally, this form of thinking–trying to guess future judgments–takes me out of the present moment and causes undue anxiety. By not being present, and instead focusing on the future, I take myself out of a non-threatening situation (because these thoughts usually come when I’m either doing nothing or something mundane) and put myself into an anxious, hypothetical situation, which causes anxiety and stress that would not be there.

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Posted in past, perfectionism, social anxiety, spirituality, theory

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social anxiety’s downward spiral

Posted on October 5, 2010 | 6 comments

Social anxiety feeds off of negative energy, thoughts, and feelings–anything negative, really. Those negatives grow with the anxiety, drowning out anything positive. When you’re given a compliment, you don’t believe it. When you get an A on a paper, it’s not good enough. When it’s sunny, you close the shades. Eventually, you completely succumb to those negative feelings. They keep you a float, they are who you are; and they grow and grow and grow until one day you wake up in the morning and immediately filter out anything positive. You only see the world in darkness, there is no light. At that point you lose hope. You’re crippled. Everyday social interactions are almost impossible to manage. You have Social Anxiety Disorder.

If you’re reading this, you probably know exactly what I’m talking about. But if you don’t you may be wondering, How does all this start?

Unfortunately, there isn’t a clear answer, in my case at least. I can go on and on about what I feel in the present, how I’m going to feel in the future, and how I felt in the past, but it’s not easy for me to pinpoint where and when social anxiety started to manifest.

That said, I still think the answer lies in the here and now. Looking at how I interpret the world in the present, should help me understand the past.

Social anxiety started the very first time someone verbally judged me. This set off a chain reaction, causing the anxiety to grow and grow, settling into the debilitating form it’s in today. In my case, it’s hard to pinpoint the exact judgments, because there’s nothing glaring. There’s no red flags or neon signs, no arrows pointing me where I need to look.

In school I got picked on quite a bit because I was different looking. I had an under bite, bad acne, and red hair. Kids made fun of me for being different. To this day, I still wonder if people can see my under bite and acne, even though they’re gone, and I’m still conscious that my hair color is different from most others. Outside of school I remember my aunt commenting one time about how I look like I’m not having a good time. Somehow my facial expression was conveying something negative. I’m always worried about my expression. I really believe that my resting facial expression is negative.

Hearing these judgments made me wonder, Is everyone judging me negatively? And I started asking that question during every single social situation, and as the anxiety grew, I began asking it before and after each situation as well. Finally, I started avoiding social situations altogether so I wouldn’t have to ask such questions.

What’s more, the answers to that question were, more often than not, negative, which fueled the anxiety even more. I could never be good enough. I could never be smart enough. I could never be the way I thought I should be. I set myself up for defeat, in other words. Over time I began to see things in a much different light. I could no longer see the positives; negatives were the only things I could relate to. This lens or filter blocked out part of the world. I wasn’t seeing the world for what it really is; I was seeing it how I wanted to see–that is, how my social anxiety wanted me to see it.

You see, social anxiety is a being. It needs nourishment and attention, just like you and me. Those come in the form of negative thoughts, and as I fed it, it demanded more and more. Once it grew big enough, it exerted its will whenever it wanted. It no longer demanded food–I was perfectly willing to feed it myself. And as I fed it, I engaged less and less in the world, and that question–Is everyone judging me negatively?–came up more and more. Suddenly I couldn’t go anywhere or see anyone without wondering whether they were judging me.

With questions came answers, and with answers came more questions. … It’s a vicious cycle that, at its worse, leaves me debilitated, broken. I’m afraid of people, or, more precisely, I’m afraid of what they think of me.

I’m at the point where I can’t stop the questions, or the answers. It’s very, very frustrating being aware of my destructive behaviors yet not being able to stop them. This behavior is deep within me; it’s all I know. When I enter a social situation, the question is there before I can stop it, as well as the answer. It happens in less than a second. How can mindfulness work with something that happens so quickly?

As time goes by the anxiety plants it self deeper and deeper into me. The longer I went without seeking professional help, the worse the anxiety got. It wasn’t until I said enough is enough, I cannot deal with this anymore on me own, I need help, that I actually could halt the downward spiral. And I believe I’m starting to reverse the process–I’m starting to get my life back.

I know I’ll never be completely free from anxiety, but my hope is that one day I’ll be able to smile, for I know I’ll be able to recapture some of the experiences I missed out on. I have a long way to go.

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Posted in negative thinking, past, social anxiety, social anxiety disorder, theory

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Feeling terrible

Posted on October 2, 2010 | 7 comments

So, I felt terrible last night, and I’m feeling even worse now. I went through a pretty difficult social situation earlier, where I met a friend of a friend at a museum. I’m proud of myself for going but like always it didn’t go exactly how I wanted it to go. I didn’t live up to my standards.

I felt out of place because I didn’t know what to say most of the time. The conversations felt forced, and I tried opening up, but that too felt forced. I tried so hard to connect with this person that I think I probably came across as desperate or, infinitely worse, socially inept. I kept asking myself, Can he tell that I’m anxious? What does he think of me? And the same voice answered: Of course he can tell. How could he not? He thinks you’re anxious, nervous and boring. You are unpleasant to be around.

We left the museum after an hour to go eat, and at the restaurant we sat in front of a mirror and I kept checking my expression. I looked terrible. My face looked tense and tired. I looked exactly how I felt on the inside.

Finally, on the way back to the museum, he bailed at the last minute, claiming he had to clean his apartment, by running toward a bus without even saying a proper goodbye. This confirmed my suspicions: I am shit. In the end, I feel sorry for him–that he had to hang out with me. I wish I didn’t disappoint everyone who comes in contact with me.

And now my weekend is total crap, and it was going so well. I avoided a binge last night and went running for an hour earlier today. I feel really depressed, even worse than last night.

I’m going to drink the pain away tonight.

And the same voice answeredever

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