vapor lock

I write this on an anxious day before the Ativan has kicked in. Before I’ve settled into becoming the mellow, drug-induced facsimile of a functioning human being. While the day still feels raw and new. Jittery from coffee with no food for breakfast. I’m spinning with anxiety, and I can’t pinpoint the cause. Red-eyed from sleepish (I don’t sleep enough, so it’s really sleepish), I’m not at my best.

But this is me. Today. Now.

Hi.

A lyric from a twenty one pilots song runs a constant refrain through my head:

“Death inspires me like a dog inspires a rabbit.” – twenty one pilots

Oh, how that line encapsulates so much of what I feel on a daily basis. If I don’t take a step, take action, DO SOMETHING, then have I lived? Will I do or get done what I want to have done before I die?

(Please forgive me for being maudlin. It’s partly the anxiety speaking.)

This need to TAKE ACTION is not a new thought, and I’m fully aware of some solutions besides pharmaceutical ones.

Those generally involve, funnily enough, taking action. Small, steady actions.

I know DOING SOMETHING makes me feel better. Once I make the bed, do the dishes, sort through the mail, and meditate for ten or fifteen minutes, my head feels clearer—although to be fair, the anti-anxiety drugs make it so I don’t care whether I do those things or not.

(And to be really fair, I don’t take anti-anxiety medication on a daily or even monthly basis. I’ll have long stretches of time when I need it and periods when I don’t. During COVID-19, I find I need it more. I’m not judging myself about it. I’m just being honest. But it does make me curious as to what the hell is going on today.)

Hence, this blog post to figure out why.

When I woke up this morning, I felt the wave of “to-dos” come rushing at me all at once, just simply for opening my eyes. A massive salt water wall crashing into my brain. The list goes something like, check my email, write something, do work, bill hours, tidy the house, smile at my family, dust that part of the dresser that never gets dusted, read the romance book I really want to read, pay taxes or deal with insurance or perform some other grownup task I don’t want to do, take a shower, do my hair, go outside, eat healthy, write more words, take time for family, take time for myself and figure out how I’m going to lose all the weight, save all the money, and do all the creative projects all today.

Death inspires me like a dog inspires a rabbit.

Of course, that list is unrealistic. I hold myself to almost unbearably high standards. I’ve been told I’m “overly goal-oriented.” In my brain, I need to write a certain amount of words each week, bill a certain number of hours each day, save a certain amount of money, and so on. That’s the way I’ll lose all the weight, save all the money, and do all the creative projects I want done today.

The anxiety comes from waking up and feeling like I have to do all these things ALL AT ONCE.

My logical brain knows of course I can’t.

My anxiety-ridden brain doesn’t know this. My anxiety-ridden brain thinks I’m failing before I’ve even begun for the day.

Hence, I go into vapor lock.

Vapor lock for me looks like picking up my phone too many times and clicking on an article about something I’ve never heard of and don’t really care about. (Venture capital for fake meat products. Yes, that random.) It feels like sitting still while my thoughts buzz around me, cartoon whirligigs that I can’t reach out and stop. It feels like I’m not really sitting still since so much is going on in my brain.

It also feels like feeling bad about not doing the things on my list. The very simple, very good, very productive things on my list that will feel good once I get them done. So anxiety causes guilt, which causes more vapor lock, which causes more anxiety, which causes more of the same. Vicious circle, no?

So, what is the solution?

Gentleness. Kindness. Reminding myself of the following:

Nature allows everything to develop at a constant pace. It’s unhurried, but under the right conditions, nature gets the job done. The right conditions being proper shelter, nutrients, and fostering that spark of life within.

Oh.

I can do that. I can take a step forward in any direction to be gentle to myself and make myself feel better.

Starting with my jittery body.

So, I go downstairs and get myself something healthier to eat than just coffee. Greek yogurt for some protein and granola for some fiber and crunch.

Now, I’m not shaking.

I look outside at the sky and think about how it’s all going to be okay. Even with tears in my eyes, it’s all going to be okay.

I look at my commitments and realize I’ve overcommitted myself today. I CANNOT possibly do all the things I want to do today. There are not 255325 hours in a day. Thus, I don’t have to do it all today. I don’t have to do any of it today, actually. Because today is one of those anxious days, and I can be kind to myself today.

I can also trust my future self to do the things I need to do when they need to be done. Generally, around here, dishes get done, bills get paid, food gets put on the table, and we laugh. I remind myself of this fact. I have a good track record. Once anxious day is not going to derail my life. The dog isn’t gonna catch this rabbit today.

And what I’m really reminding myself of is that feelings are temporary. Maybe we (I) experience the same ones over and over again, so they feel like they don’t go away, but if we (I) welcome them in, give them a home, and let them teach us (me) what they are crying out to say, then it all feels better.

So, Anxiety, what do you have to tell me (us)?

That I (we) don’t need to do it all today?

That I’m just fine just the way I am? That we are enough the way we are?

That Mr. Rogers was right on just about every single thing he ever said about feelings? Like this:

“Confronting our feelings and giving them appropriate expression always takes strength, not weakness. It takes strength to acknowledge our anger, and sometimes more strength yet to curb the aggressive urges anger may bring and to channel them into nonviolent outlets. It takes strength to face our sadness and to grieve and let out our grief and our anger flow in tears when they need to. It takes strength to talk about our feelings and to reach out for help and comfort when we need it.”

By writing this post, am I being strong? By reading it, are you?

I think so.

I know death inspires me like a dog inspires a rabbit. But both the dog and the rabbit take breaks. The dog lies in the sun and laps up water and goes for walks. The rabbit hops around, sniffs at the air, and munches on greens. They’re not constantly being the chaser and the chasee.

So, today I can do a few things on my list. The ones that make me feel good. One at a time.

I can fight being overwhelmed and anxious by going slowly and taking small steps and babying myself.

And I can wake up tomorrow to live another day. So can you.