Author Archive

There is an excellent article by Dr. Oz in the November “Oprah” magazine about healthy aging. It outlines a 2 week program for healthy living - with an eye toward sustainable living for a high quality older person. I was skeptical when I started reading it (at the hair salon) but was amazed as I got into it.

Along with the standard exercise and proper eating bits, I was struck by how much of the article is focused on meditation, self-awareness and stress-relief. From a medical doctor! Each day there are suggestions on ways to first recognize and then relieve stress. He emphasizes how detrimental stress and anxiety are to the body.

So much of the article, and the plan, are centered around things it has taken me YEARS to learn!! They are simple and easy to follow. There are no large start up costs (although I disagree with his suggestion to buy a blood pressure cuff!) and no fads or fancy things to buy.

Give it a read — I found it very heartening to see such a sound, common-sense and helpful article in the mainstream media!

It really irritates me when I find myself affected by negative people. When others choose to focus on some slight they perceive or something they don’t understand and they take it personally — then they demand redress, changes and an overabundance of attention. I find this kind of irritation gets under my skin and bothers me a little … a little more… and then, if I”m not attentive it can really honk me off.

It’s my responsibility to keep a steady flow of peace in my life. To see the irritations and let them go. To recognize that some problems are truly none of my business and have nothing to do with me. It is my attaching something (my irritation perhaps?) to the problem that gets me involved. I don’t know exactly why I think I have to understand other people so deeply. Or why I think it is helpful for me to get involved in issues that bother others so much. Probably some “superman complex” of mine - I want to save them from their own pain. Sheesh!

For me to have serenity and calmness in my life others don’t have to change their behavior or even do things differently. I can see the reality of a problem for what it is. Negativity, immaturity, fear. And then I can choose to look at something else. If I try hard enough I can often come to a place where I feel compassion for someone who is caught up in this kind of vicious cycle of negativity and anger. My life is better for this practice.

And lately, I’ve had a lot of chances to practice this! Ha!

It’s been a few months since I’ve blogged here. Not because I haven’t wanted to — but mostly life flows on in some new directions these days and I have not had enough time to sit quietly and gather my thoughts!

This is a good place for me, being in the flow, because so much of my life I have fought that sense of movement. Things “moved on” before I was finished with them, or people flowed out of my life and I didn’t want them to.

Resisting the flow of life didn’t get me much more than a good dose of Panic and Anxiety. Recovering from these has included a process of envisioning my life as a flowing river or stream. That I’m both the water and I am *in* the water. There is a time for things to happen and un-happen, and there is also a sort of timelessness about my life.

Maybe I’m just getting old.

But I find that I am no longer feeling the pinch of time, as if I don’t have enough of it. I feel like some of my days are longer than they’ve ever been!! I am enjoying the weather - even when it is weather that I usually don’t like. I’ve been pretty Panic-free now for a good long time.

I’m still busy - but not filled with busy-ness.

So I guess this is what I mean by being “in the flow.”

My life has been on fast-fast-forward for about a month and today is the first day of release.

The chaos and busy-ness has been good stuff — nothing anxious or negative. Just huge amounts of time spent going along with schedules and plans of family members. My youngest daughter graduated from high school. Kids moved out of our house. One moved back in. We had visits with elderly relatives who needed us to come. Like I said, it’s good stuff — but busy.

I found myself going on a kind of auto-pilot. Get up, do stuff, go to bed. No creativity really. No time for even much reading. I’ve had some low-level anxiety, mostly the feeling that I’m forgetting something crucial. I’m sure I’ve forgotten many things!! Probably nothing crucial!

So this afternoon I find myself in a peaceful and quiet solitude. Everyone else’s plans have taken them off on various adventures and I simply am home. Alone. For the next few days. Lovely!

I am watching the backyard birds take some last minute sustenance before bedding down for the evening. The squirrels are rummaging around at the base of the feeders for dropped sunfower seeds. Moss moves langorously in a whisper of a breeze. I hear crickets in the distance. The shadows are sharpening as the sun sinks.

Life is good. I’m learning that if I just keep breathing, and trusting, the cycle will move along — and peace will reign again. I’m ready to enjoy it.

I’ve been listening to some CDs on Meditation and Relaxation. I’ve realized that (1) I like having some guidance. A calm and steady voice helps me focus on my body and my breath. (2) If there is some kind of sound or music then I’m able to hold the practice longer. (3) I feel like a failure for both of these!

In a way, the right voice (and “right” is very personal so I recommend you try a bunch of different CDs) is like a teacher. In the privacy of my own home, and in the course of my own life’s rhythm I can benefit from having someone “teach” me how to meditate. I follow the guidance and I’m able to experience the benefits. I am more relaxed following at this point in my practice.

Music or some sound has the effect of a boundary. For me it encloses me in a safe and secure space inside my meditation. Perhaps due to my own life experiences I’m a bit leery of all that inner infinity! Music (or even birds’ singing in my yard) helps create a container for me to relax into.

And, once I’ve discovered these two preferences I find myself immediately moving into judgment and criticism. If I were a REAL “meditator” then I wouldn’t need a voice or a guide. I would thrive on silence. I’m not able to “do it right” or “be any good.”

I hear these inner admonitions and, today, I let them go. I know they have created a ground of anxiety and panic for me. It is in that place that my terror, my fear of the world and its workings, has grown and thrived. I no longer want to nourish that ground. So, I touch them and release them. I refuse to hold on to them, to make them “mine” any longer.

This ‘practice’ of letting go the inner critic is increasing my sense of peace and groundedness. I think this is the point of meditation.

So maybe I’m getting there anyway. Wherever ‘there’ is!

I hope everyone who has a daughter, is a daughter, is married to a daughter or who knows a daughter will take a few moments and just reflect on how deeply ingrained into our culture is the freedom to slur. I hope that rather than entering the fray on behalf of either Don Imus or the Rutgers Women’s Basketball Team you will simply take a moment and respect the daughters — those you know, and those you don’t.

Whatever your politics are there is always space to respect a daughter — either our own or someone else’s.

I am heading out tomorrow for a week’s retreat. This is something that I tried for the first time last year. It was a wonderful experience.

I set aside a week. No phone. No computer. I bought enough groceries for 2 meals a day, and stayed away from sugars and processed foods. I took books, paper, pens and the laptop if I wanted to write really fast! I also took some rudimentary art supplies. Then, I headed down to the beach which is about an hour from my house.

Out of that retreat last year came a flood of creative writing that resulted in two published stories this past year. I also created two stained glass window mosaics from which I continue to get daily pleasure.

I also learned that my family can survive without me for a full week. So can my email. And I can live without “being available” by phone and computer. The rejuvenative effects of that retreat lasted about 9 months. And, I’m ready for another!

This kind of self-care is one of the ways that I continue to recover the “good life” from anxiety and panic. This kind of peace, slowing down and making space for myself is the life experience that I can continue to create INSIDE my head and heart no matter where I am.

And that reduces panic, anxiety, fear and chaos.

So I bid you all a fond farewell for seven days — and look forward to returning refreshed, renewed and reflective!

Be well.

As I’ve been focusing lately on these Meditation CDs something amazing has come to my attention. I have a VERY sensitive startle reflex! I mean CRAZY sensitive!! I know that babies have this (called the “Morro reflex” I think) but it was always my understanding that we kind of grew out of it.

But I’ve had such a revelation.

I will be following the meditation, listening to the voice, focusing on my breathing. But in the CDs where there is perfect silence rather than any music or ambient noise I find that the next word by the teacher or the bell or even a distant “clunk” in the house causes me a SHOCK! I briefly shiver all over and jerk my eyes open, then feel a release of what must be adrenalin. My heart rate increases and my breathing sometimes stops — I seem to hold my breath.

Now that I’m more aware of this response it makes sense that anxiety and panic have been such a presence in my life. Maybe this happens regularly, and without my awareness. And maybe the Panic is actually a build up of these ’startlings’ rather than some ‘attack’ from out of the blue. I’m thinking that I have a habit of reacting this way, and it is now automatic.

Paying attention to these times when I’m startled has allowed me to dissipate the feeling in the moment. I breathe it in and out. My heart rate settles back down. I come back in to my body and the moment. They don’t seem to be building up. I have a sense of clarity and awareness in my life, but not really any underlying anxiety or panic.

I’m not sure I understand it totally but I think I’m gaining some insight about myself here.

I’m currently working through three new CDs on Meditation and Guided Relaxation.

THe first one is called “Guided Meditations for calmness, awareness and love” led by Bodhipaksa. There are three meditations on this CD: one on the Mindfulness of Breathing, one on the Development of Lovingkindness and a third on which is called Walking Meditation Practices.

Bodhipaksa’s voice is very soothing, a deep, clear voice with a hint of Scottish brogue. He speaks plainly and simply. He explains what he is doing, and he speaks directly to you as if he is in the room with you. He begins with eyes open and this is unusual, but I liked it - especially for beginners.

The second one is from “The Mental Medicine Collection” and is called “Quiet Thoughts.”

The third is called “The Ease of Being: Guided Meditations for Centering and Healing.”

As I work through these and practice them I’ll keep posting. I think the sound of a voice, and the use of images, appeals to individual tastes, but perhaps it will be helpful and encourage someone to give this tool a try.

I really liked this reading today — it goes along with exactly what I need to to remain mindful (and thus incorporate less Anxiety and Panic) in my day. You can read all the daily thoughts at www.dailyom.com

March 7, 2007
Decorating Life
The World As Home
There are few things more thrilling than having a new house or an empty room to decorate. Our imaginations soar as we consider the many possibilities. In the same way, our lives offer us the opportunity to express ourselves within various contexts, to ask ourselves questions about what we want to see as we move through our days and how we want things to flow. Some people do this instinctively, moving through the various environments they inhabit and shifting the energy with their presence. These people have a knack for decorating life. This can be as simple as the way they dress, the way they speak, or the fact that they always bring a bouquet of wildflowers when they come for a visit.

As we move through the world, we make a statement, whether we intend to or not. We shift the energy one way when we enter a room dressed elegantly and simply, and another when we show up in bright, cheerful colors and a floppy hat. One is not better than the other. It is simply a question of the mood we wish to create. What we wear is just one choice we can focus on. The way we speak to people, or touch them, shifts the energy more profoundly than almost anything else. The words we speak and the tone in which we say them are the music we choose to play in the world that is our home. Some of us fill the space with passionate arias, others with healing hymns. Again, one is not better than the other. We are all called to contribute.

Just as we consciously create an environment within our homes, we can consciously choose to decorate life itself with our particular energy. Ideally, in doing so, we express our deeper selves, so that the adornments we add to the world make it more meaningful, more beautiful, and as welcoming as a beloved home.

Seems like lately I’ve been having a lot of family time. And I don’t necessarily mean this in a good way! I mean that my brothers, sisters and parents have been making plans for family get-togethers and I find my anxiety creeping up with each one.

I grew up in a large, boisterous family, and when I got married we proceeded to have three kids in three years. Add that to the two my husband already had, and by age 30 I had another large, boisterous family. You’d think that would be good. But it sent me into serious Anxiety and Panic. Turns out, I’m really a rather introverted person who adapted as long as she could to the wild, extroverted, in-your-face living in a large family. But by the time I was in my early 30’s I couldn’t take it any more. But now, instead of siblings, these were my children!

I’m lucky. My girls are terrific. My stepkids are wonderful. We had help from babysitters and au pairs. And, time passes. Now the youngest is 18, very independent and about to graduate from high school. We’ve slowly gotten into a lovely routine of co-habitation - my husband, my daughter and myself. We all have plenty of space, free time, quiet, etc.

Now add these ‘gatherings’ with my siblings to my calendar and I’m crammed into a house full of kids, grandkids, nieces, neighbors etc. I find my eyes glazing over. My back stiffens up. I breathe about an inch deep. When I get in the car to go home I’m clutching the wheel for dear life.

I love my family - dont get me wrong. But it is imperative for me to remember what I’ve learned about myself!! And I can only take so much chaos and confusion without being sucked into a vortex of anxiety, followed closely by a panic attack.

So this morning is lovely — cool, quiet. I can hear the birds chirping outside my window, and the coffee pot gurgling down the hall in the kitchen. No one speaks to me. My ears unwind from their taut defense against an onslaught. My shoulders are relaxing back down to normal. My breath is again getting somewhere close to my belly. I notice my jaw has stopped clenching.

This is good. It hasn’t taken me a week or a month or a year to figure this out!

Jungian Thoughts – Part 1

I was pretty much in the throes of Panic and Anxiety when I first heard about C. G. Jung, a Swiss psychiatrist who was a young contemporary of Freud’s. I heard a talk in which the speaker mentioned “individuation” and the process of “becoming who you were uniquely intended to be” and how this process, though different for everyone, was the common ground of mankind. Well, I’m not sure of the exact words, but they struck a profound, deep bell in my soul – honestly, I had never heard someone talk like that.

After the talk, I asked what books he could recommend and thus began my journey. He gave me three names. Morton Kelsey, John Sanford and Linda S. Leonard. This was back in the days before amazon.com and so I went to bookstores. I found a book by each of them, and devoured them. Went to the bibliographies and found more books, more authors, more titles. For the next year I probably read over 180 books. This is an amazing feat if you know that I also had three children under 5 years old, and was having panic attacks almost daily.

The common themes in these books began to resonate within me. The first that I latched on to was the idea that I, personally, was here for a reason. Not some vague “here to be good” kind of reason, but that I represented a crucial thread in a tapestry and without me the world would be lacking. This language, of metaphor and rich imagery, drew me in and warmed me. It calmed me. I took deep breaths for the first time in years. I wasn’t just taking up space, I’m SUPPOSED to be here.

The second thing that I grabbed like a life-line is that the desires I had to be creative, and the images that sprang from my mind and heart, were parts of my healing. Painting, drawing and making art was not about getting hung on a wall in a museum, or scoring a huge gallery deal. It was about expressing something that without my voice (or choice of color, or line of pencil) would never be expressed. This changed how I thought: Thought about myself, and how I thought about others. For the first time in my life I felt connected to a deep voice in me that needed to get out! And so I painted. Sheets and sheets of paper, covered in colored pencil, acrylic paints and oil pastels. I drew and painted and tore paper, and made collages, and drew and painted some more.

(As a side note – my three daughters just LOVED this new me!! We lived in the play room with paint and paper and glitter. )

This was the beginning of a transformative era in my life that would forever change the way I lived. For three years I read books, created from my own imagination, and grew in an awareness of a rich and infinite inner wellspring that I would eventually refer to as God. But not in the beginning. It simply was my Soul. And that was enough.

I continued to do the things I had learned to do for panic and anxiety, but after this time period I never had a debilitating, paralyzing Panic Attack. There became, in me, a meeting place for inner and outer worlds that brought a sense of grounding, and on which I could depend. I became trustworthy to myself, and I was part of a much larger, grander and very interesting whole!

That was about 16 years ago. There have been many wonderful experiences with dreams, fairy tales, body work, analysis and I’ll share these in posts along the way. But for now, that was the starting point. And I am eternally grateful for that 30 minute talk on Individuation. As Robert Frost said in his immortal poem “And it has made all the difference.”

Lately it seems that I’ve been hearing a LOT of people in my life ask “why” questions. “Why do I have panic attacks?” “Why do they happen?” “Why don’t the meds work?” and even in non-Panic/Anxiety realms of my life I hear “Why don’t I have a boyfriend/girlfriend?” “Why didn’t I get that job?” “Why did that have to happen?”

I’m sympathetic to the problems of others. Compassionate even. I truly do care about the suffering of my fellow human beings, and I hope that my prayers and thoughts — and even my listening — will help them find some relief.

But lately I say - “Why ask why?” And what I mean is, in all my recovery, spiritual learning and best mindful living the ‘why’ questions just seem to lead me further into insanity and fear. Who could possibly answer my why question? Another human being? God? And as I’ve sought peace in my life, rather than a particular physical or material answer I’ve learned that there are far more valuable questions I can ask.

Such as: “How can I help?” or “What can I do now?” or even “Am I okay right this minute?” The longer I work on formulating a helpful question, the more I am beginning to see how VERY helpful it is. Maybe not for the person who wants to know why. But it seems to make all the difference for me.

My panic attacks are virtually gone. My anxiety level rarely gets above a 4 on a 10 point scale. I’m aware when things are getting dicey, and I ask “What can I do to help myself?” and I answer with one of the many tools at my disposal. I have questions that lead me back to healing processes. Experiences and choices that really work for me.

It is not out of indifference or lack of caring that I say “why ask why?” but out of a great hope that whoever is asking that question, may find a more helpful question … AND an answer.

Hi all — just posting to stay in touch. I’m reading the posts, and they’re really terrific. I just have so much going on right now that my meditation and reflection time (the little that I have) is pretty much sitting and calming my mind. I still do that daily — it sustains me.

But I haven’t had the time to work on some of the more creative and informative posts that I wanted to share here. I sit down at the computer and several “real-life” demands come whizzing my way.

So, I’m going with it — handling things fine, actually. No panic. No anxiety. Just busy, busy, busy. And, rather than adding guilt to my daily mix, I thought I’d simply post a hello and a note to say “I’m Busy.”

This is progress for me!

Hi All –

I’ve been checking in about once a day, but since we’re traveling and I don’t have too much access to a computer I have been very distracted from writing and posting!!

So, I just wanted to say hi, to say thanks for all the great posts and links to articles. I have printed some of them out so that I can read them on the plane.

I travel home on Wednesday (1/31) and so should be back “up and running” by Thursday sometime!!

Be well. Stay relaxed!

I’d like to write some posts on Jung’s psychology and how it has helped me deal with panic and anxiety. I don’t want to write long missives or treatises, so I just thought I’d put my intention out here for a few days and then post some stuff. If anyone finds it too boring or confusing just tell me to shut up!!

In a nice way, of course! LOL!

I am finding that my level of anxiety is directly and proportionally linked to the way I talk.

Big news, right?

But for me it is another moment of self-awareness. When I find myself talking to others and hear myself using phrases like “huge problem” and “biggest fear” I am literally talking myself into panic. I am blowing my fear up into a larger-than-life issue. I’m creating a new perspective for that fear (or symptom).

Journalling and blogging helps because I can see just how many times I refer to something, or repeat something, and I can reflect on that and see if I am working myself up into a lather.

Meditation, focused breathing, or a nice, brisk walk helps me calm down. There are many things I can do to get my THINKING back on track, and to put my ‘problem’ in its true perspective. It is more-often-than-not just a thought or a fear. The thing I talk about is rarely my actual ‘biggest’ problem. So I am now focusing on how I talk, the words I use and perhaps I’ll find myself less afraid. A little less anxious.

Well, actually I know that I’ll find myself a little less afraid and a little less anxious. That’s how it works!!

I’ve noticed lately that I’m getting easily offended. This came to my attention yesterday when, for the third time, I realized I was irritated.

Now, this may sound strange– so what if I’m irritated? But I have spent years and years dealing with anxiety and panic and one of the results of this is that most of my life is now spent in a kind of serene place of presence. I’m fortunate that the meds I took, the therapies I’ve worked through, the reading, the massage, the reiki, etc have all combined to help me live an extraordinarily fruitful and peaceful life.

Until yesterday. When I realized I was so darn irritated.

I took some time in the afternoon to meditate and then to sit with myself. I remembered the situations, the interactions, that offended me. I was feeling pretty peaceful and so I just held them in my mind. And I began to see a common thread. (Besides ME, of course!)

The common thread in each of the irritating situations was that I was afraid. In one I was afraid of being wrong. In another, I was afraid of making a mistake. In another, I was afraid of being manipulated. That instant of fear, that clenching, that shallow, quick intake of breath — that was the common thread.

And I remember that from days of relentless Panic and Anxiety. I remember when that physical state was my constant companion. Now, after a rather long absence, it was making an appearance. I was able to sit yesterday afternoon in my living room, looking out into the backyard, and just rest with that thought. No judgment. No fixing things. No rush to action.

And it occured to me that this is another bit of growth. That recognizing my own irritation, and my own bodily reaction to fear, I am able to BE present with fear. It doesn’t have to justify itself. It just comes. And fear doesn’t have to take up permanent residence to get my attention. I am able to look at my OWN behavior, and see what is up.

I don’t have to justify myself. I just am.

It seemed like a big insight for me. That even when I recognize some discomfort, some fear in my life, that I am still on the right path and growing and deepening in the peace I’ve chosen. I guess I used to see the problem as being that of the insensitive other. Now I see the phenomenon as the sensitive me. And when I do that, I have a choice — again — in how I want to proceed. No matter how annoying someone else is acting.

And with that insight I find myself less anxious today. Less irritated, and less agitated.

I started writing last year. Short stories mostly, but I also started a novel. I’m sure this sounds familiar to a lot of folks, and pretty much of a “pipe dream” activity. I mean, really — shouldn’t I be doing something more worthwhile?? More sensible??

Thus said the voices in my head … and were echoed softly by various family members. I stayed with it and by August I had two short stories accepted for publication. (You can see one online at www.anderbo.com). The satisfaction and joy in this endeavor has been immense. So, what’s the problem?

Well, sometime around Thanksgiving I just stopped. Boom. Nada. I sit down at the computer and log on to various websites, check my email, play a few rounds of Spider solitaire and then get interrupted by someone and go off on another track. I look back now and its six weeks ago since I wrote down the ideas and stories and scenes that are swirling around my head.

Know what else has been happening? Yep - insomnia, edgy days of almost panic, generalized anxiety, and a sense of hopelessness. Hmm. Correlation? Ya think?

I’m not big on New Year’s resolutions to improve myself, I try to do that anyway. Living with Anxiety and Panic has been amazing for my health: I exercise regularly, eat vegetarian, meditate and do deep breathing exercises daily. I have good relationships that are mostly happy and very fulfilling. I am constantly learning things, reading books, and I have a wonderful life. This “writing thing” was a gift. I think of it as a gift that the Universe gave to me last year. And so I’m thinking of making a New Year’s resolution to get back to it!

I don’t think I’ve wrecked it, but I certainly haven’t treated this gift with the respect and care that it deserves. And who suffers from this? Me! I’m not talking about blame here, just personal awareness. This is a part of my path. This creativity and success is something that requires me to act, act responsibly and to act consistently. I like that about being grown up. That I act this way. I do it on behalf of others all the time. Now I get the opportunity to do it on behalf of myself. To have the ability to express myself creatively, and have it be recieved with such enthusiasm is also a responsibility. I’m thinking its akin to taking care of my body so that I don’t suffer so much. It becomes a joy rather than an obligation.

So, I’m writing here. And I’m writing in Word, too. And while I’m writing the stories, I’m righting myself. And it feels good. It feels right.

Thanks for allowing me to pun shamelessly!

Because I’ve dealt with Panic and Anxiety for a long time I sometimes think I’ve got a handle on it. That somehow I’ve learned the tricks and can dodge the bullets. And so sometimes a panic attack will come out of the blue, knock me on my butt and remind me that THAT is not how it works.

Dealing with the reality of Panic and Anxiety is not about cobbling together a protective shield of magical thinking. In fact, that can sometimes be very detrimental to the full, rich life I want to live.

No, dealing with Panic and Anxiety has become for me a daily practice. It is spiritual in nature. And it has more to do with acceptance and surrender, which is not the same as weak and helpless. It is an active process of trusting whatever is happening, and knowing that I am part of a bigger power. That I can, and will, survive the slings and arrows of life not because I have tricked myself into believing everything is okay. But I will survive and thrive because everything IS okay. Even the stuff that feels very un-okay, like a panic attack.

So my practice is about staying present to what is. Not getting caught up in what I want it to be or what it should be or what it will be next year. But if I can take my mind down to this minute and truly be IN that minute, then I’m not only okay, I’m at peace.

And ultimately, that’s where I live my best life. At peace. And in the moment.

I’ve decided to keep my eyes on something I want: peace. And how do I get it?

Well, what I’ve noticed is that it is in the details. In the nearly private, and certainly mundane encounters that I have with individuals every day - I can choose peace. Or I can choose to get huffy, be offended, get cranky and spout off at someone.

But I’ve made this decision about peace, right?

So when I’m standing in line at the Post Office and they are moving at a snail’s pace with only one window open at noon during Christmas I can either get pissed off, make sarcastic (but very clever) comments to those around me, or I can choose peace. I can close my eyes and breathe. I can focus on a child, dressed in holiday clothes with a look of wonder as she plays with a stuffed toy. I can imagine all the happy faces of people recieving the packages. I can say a silent prayer for the folks who work at the Post Office, and be grateful that it isn’t me.

When I’m stuck in traffic by the mall entrances I can holler at the idiots who pull out without looking and nearly sideswipe my car. Or I can focus on “Hark the Herald Angels Sing” playing on the radio and remember watching “Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown” as a kid, and how this was my favorite carol. I can be grateful that I’m in a comfortable car, with heat, and not scurrying around at the mall on my lunch hour or worse yet having to go work there till all hours getting harrangued by shoppers.

And if the pharmacist can’t understand my request I can get huffy and offended, raising my voice in anger and indignation, repeating it as if this imbecile should be working in a rock quarry instead of filling my prescriptions. Or, I can put a smile on my face, and say it again, and again and again, with patience, with compassion. And with peace. That is my choice.

I’m finding that if I choose peace, in these encounters and in my own thoughts about my life and my fears, that I can actually live in this place. For periods of time I can actually have peace on earth - at least in my little corner of the world.

“Our plans miscarry because they have no aim. When a man does not know what harbor he is making for, no wind is the right wind.”—Marcus Annaeus Seneca, 4 BC - 65 AD, Roman philosopher and moralist.

I saw this quote and thought it really applies to my desire to live a life without debilitating anxiety and panic. If I’m focused on the panic attack or the symptom then that is probably the “harbor” I’m headed for.

And then I wonder why I can’t get better, when I want, so badly, to get better!

But, if my aim is healthy, active living - the life that is out there for me to live - then that’s the “harbor” I’m headed for.

So, maybe I have a better chance of getting there!

Just thought I’d share

This really goes along with what Jonah recently wrote about “taking some time off” from anxiety!

I’m home from my trip. 11 days, 4 airplanes, 2 continents, untold numbers of security devices - I’m safe and sound and in my house again. And, I actually enjoyed myself.

I made a commitment before I left to be conscious of the possibility of anxiety and panic, and to do what I could to prepare for it. But, I was not going to let it drive me or run the show.

And it didn’t.

I’m so grateful for the process of working through this disorder of Panic and Anxiety. Because it is a process I’m not focused on one, single, final cure-all. I’m just relieved I am doing better, that I’m able to participate in the abundance of what life has to offer.

So that’s my tale of a deep-seated fear: the fear of flying. And how, at least this time, it didn’t keep me from doing something wonderful!

Well, I made it up to the Big Apple with nary a blip on the screen of anxiety. Planes flew smoothly and on time. People were busy with their own books, headphones and naps and didn’t freak the staff out causing any unnecessary stops. Pilots flew brilliantly and well.

And, I’m enjoying my stay in the bustling city. Been to an opera - very cool. A few movies - excellent. Have taken long walks along avenues and the East River.

The weather is mild and lovely. Today, traveling is a good idea and I’m so lucky to do it.

Saturday we have our flight to London. Till then, I’m going to enjoy the food, the sites and the ambience of NYC. I’ll let you know how the rest goes.

I’m 48 hours in front of a beautifully planned trip. On Monday morning I fly from my home in Florida to New York City (with a stop in Atlanta just for good measure). After five fabulous days in the Big Apple it’s off to London, England for another few days. There are all kinds of cultural delights in store: opera, Broadway, the West End, sightseeing and shopping. What could be better?

Would cowering in the corner of my bedroom really be better? Would being glued to my computer answering emails and posting on anxiety websites really be a higher quality life? Would staying tethered to car, house and familiar streets really be the best participation in an abundant world?

For someone who values her intellect these should be easy questions. However, since I’ve got a nice, healthy dose of Panic and Anxiety Disorder, these questions loom in my mind like real, serious discussion points.

Somewhere in my brain there is a single thought – posing as a rational idea– that says I’d be better off not to go. It is as if that thought-cell has some secret information and is trying to warn the rest of the cells in my body to avoid inevitable and imminent danger.

This is just not true!

I know that once I’m in the flow of the experience I’ll be okay. I will realize that I’m fine, and that I’m actually enjoying myself. I also know that the inexorable march of time will have this trip behind me before I can really experience it. (In my late 40’s I’m seeing the reality of this time-march and its rapidly increasing speed!)

However, those are future things - right now I’m simply in the anticipatory stage. And this, for me, is the most dangerous and most painful part of my life with Panic and Anxiety. It is never the crisis itself, or even the experience or event.

No, it is the lead-up, the anticipation. The underlying, gnawing “knowledge” that it is coming!

Like some B-movie out for Halloween this fabulous trip gets to dress up like an ancient mummy and lurch its way into my presence.

So, I’m going to practice my breathing, do some more laundry and maybe go to a REAL movie today.

So far, the actual sweaty, shaky panic is just an idea.

I’d like to keep it that way.

I just have to say that I’m really becoming aware of how closely linked conflict and panic are in my life.

Conflict of the slightest type - someone is mad, not even at me - can cause me to have heart palpitations, shallow breathing, and a fear that something dire is going to happen.

Usually nothing happens. I don’t live in a terribly chaotic style, nor am I in a war zone, a flood plain or near the San Andreas Fault. But when conflict is present I get anxious. My fear causes mental chaos. Conflict seems to suggest that some conflagration of a personal and immense nature will …. what? Destroy my life? Who knows…. I haven’t gotten it all figured out yet.

But I am able to see yet another direct correlation between events in the outer world and my reaction to them. And how this connection can lead me into panic.

More later when I try the “dog fear” suggestions on regular, run-of-the-mill conflict!

It’s not quite as dramatic as the full-blown panic attack that sends me to the ER gasping for my last breaths, certain that my heart has attacked and killed me, but isolation seems to be a key ingredient of my panic and anxiety disorders.

Sometimes I find myself either mad at the world, or vicitimized by the world, alone, misunderstood, and baffled by the experience. Most of the time I view myself as pretty positive and pleasant, a person who tries hard to get along and “play nice,” and as fairly intelligent. So it is with surprise that I ask myself how did I end up all alone at the far end of some opinion, isolated from my fellows and nursing hurt feelings?

I think it has to do with anxiety, and it is one of the more subtle features of my disease. Over many years I have learned that anxiety can spread in an almost invisible mist over my whole psyche - and, indeed, through an entire crowd of strangers. It masquerades as common sense, a well-thought-out-opinion, a core-belief or even as a sum-of-my-experience. This giant boulder of anxiety builds itself with tiny, imperceptible bricks of “fact” - this is right, that is wrong, he is mean, she is hurtful, this pain is serious, that behavior is dangerous. I may convince myself that I don’t swallow some idea whole, but over time I may swallow enough little pieces of things to stuff myself on an anxiety-producing belief. Then,
I act on these beliefs and avoid certain activities and people. If I collect enough of these beliefs, and avoid enough people and activities I can find myself alone, and boxed in to a very tiny mental space. All in the name of self preservation.

For instance, flying is a good example. If I read enough news articles, books and stories, or watch enough TV and film versions of plane disasters, I can collect images and beliefs that flying in airplanes is dangerous - and even stupid. I can avoid traveling, going places I love, accompanying people I love, and attending functions I love. I can convince myself that I’m safer if I just stay home. Over time, I realize I have missed out on weddings, vacations, musical and artistic performances; that I have missed out on the opportunity to live life at its most abundant. Yes, I’ve been safe, but I’m now also alone, bored, resentful and misunderstood. I get sad. I get depressed. I am anxious. I think I’ll have a panic attack.

This goes with people as well. I can collect hurt feelings like other people collect pennies in a jar. And then one day I’m full of hurt feelings and so I avoid all those people, that situation. I’m alone. I’m sad. I’m bored. I’m resentful. I get anxious. What is wrong with me? Is that a pain in my chest? I think I’ll have a panic attack.

Of course I don’t consciously choose this line of thinking - nor do I consciously choose to have a panic attack. But if I allow myself to go down these many (sometimes inviting) roads of judgement, avoidance and isolation, I can find myself back to the very familiar place of a full-blown panic attack. Part of, maybe a HUGE part of, my recovery is to pursue self-awareness, in order to recognize the subtle clues that I may be putting myself in place to get slammed by the disease. I’m coming to believe that knowing and avoiding this is my responsibility.

But these warning signs are quiet and small. They are good at disguising themselves in “normal” clothes. Maybe 95% of all people would say that this person is a jerk, or that flying is dangerous. Maybe they’re right. However, I need to be careful of this kind of thinking. Like caffeine, it may be fine in small doses and it doesn’t necessarily CAUSE a panic disorder. But it is the kind of anxiety that, for me, can build into a full blown attack.

And I need to remember this about myself. It is up to me to choose something else.

Jonah’s post got me thinking - I read the title and thought one thing, read the post and realized it was about another thing. That happens alot with me and anxiety and panic. I think the pain or symptom is one thing. But really it’s all about something else.

When I first saw his title I thought of “Anxiety as stained glass” as a metaphor for equating panic and anxiety with multi-colored windows - that kind of stained glass. Immediately my mind associated with the various colors, and how different a stained glass window is from regular, clear glass windows. How the sun is still the sun outside, but the colored glass changes my perception of light. And how the beauty of the glass shapes requires a light source. It was a very comforting metaphor.

Then, I read the post, and even though it was a very different kind of stained glass, I resonated with that too. There is a sense I get sometimes that life is coming at me with a problem already inherent in the delivery.

And actually both of these perceptions are true for me - anxiety and panic fit into my life in both of these ways. It is not either/or. Life is becoming more both/and.

I guess the cool thing about this insight for me is that I am learning, in all areas of my life, that there is more than one way to look at a thing. More than one way to hear a thing. More than one way to FEEL a thing. And each different way helps me see, hear and feel with a little more wholeness.

I don’t have to view my anxiety as a totally terrible affliction. It brings some altered perceptions into my life that are actually creative and beautiful. And in dealing with it, I become more and more aware of how much it all depends on my own perception. Life and pain and fear and death is not so much an “outer” phenomenon. It is more of an inside job.

I’m not talking so much about turning all the bad things into good things, making lemonade out of lemons. I am thinking more that embracing the ’stained glass’ of Jonah’s post helps me also see the beauty of the ’stained glass’ of my imagination. The contrast holds for me a way out of my own conviction that I’m going to die immediately. It teaches me to be still, and let the feeling, the symptom or the thought express itself and then transform - because all things change.

I don’t have to hold on to just my one idea about anything - even a group of words like ’stained glass.’ I can embrace many ways. And in doing that, maybe I’ll find the middle way.

I tend to get most anxious when I see myself as the last bastion before impending disaster. This is a handy metaphor because it fits into hundreds of actual situations.
For instance, is my child doing well in school? If not, then it must be up to me to halt that demise and fix the problem (teacher, school, learning disability, whatever!). Is there a pain in my body? If so, then it must be up to my brain alone to come up with the answer (certain death) and derail the disastrous consequence. Sometimes as I drive through my town I offer helpful advice to fellow drivers, notice how the city could be more concise with the wording of this sign or that notice. I often see how a kooky intersection could be designed more efficiently, and I correct the incorrect grammar that has been posted on billboards.

I’m a busy bee.

And it is just this busyness that can signal the onset of a full blown panic attack - because if all these wrongs are dependent on me for getting “righted” then we’re ALL in serious trouble! It can make my heart race just to contemplate this scenario.

Through a spiritual program that I follow I’ve come to believe in a power greater than myself. It’s not so relevant that I articulate and explain the personal ins and outs of this belief system, but what IS relevant is the crucial idea that there IS a higher power, and I’m not it! This seems like a simple phrase, and perhaps to those who don’t suffer from anxiety and panic disorders this is taken for granted.

But for me, it has to be consciously and constantly remembered. I am NOT the world’s safety net. I am not my children’s safety net. I am not even my OWN safety net. I’m just a decent human being, living life to the best of my ability, and I probably have a few talents and ideas to contribute to the world, so maybe I could focus on that, eh? I can let go of monitoring the edge of “the great abyss” to make sure no one falls over, and I can do what it is that I can do.

Like, I can make sure my kids get healthy food, and a good night’s sleep. I encourage them to get organized, and ask for help, but I can leave the rest up to them. They will work it out. If I have a pain in my body I can go to the doctor, or I can chalk it up to one of the side effects of HAVING a body, and go on with my day. Chances are I’m not going to die from three or four life-threatening illnesses today. As for my driving, well, I could probably just pay more attention to my own choices, my own speed, and whether or not I’m using my turn signal. If I’ve got so much time on my hands in the car maybe I can listen to a book on tape.

What this practice of depending on a higher power is teaching me is that I do have a place in this world, I’m just not in charge of it. And not being in charge means I do not have to take on the responsibility for the proper management of every detail. I can do what I can do for myself and those in my tiny circle. And I can trust that the same power that organized planet’s orbits and the creation of a galaxy, can probably put the right person on the right task. Just for today I can go with the flow.

I dance with panic and fear. Not necessarily because I like it, but it’s better than any alternatives I’ve found. At first I didn’t want to dance. I was in denial. I tried to organize it away. Drugs helped. I was, in my mind, a perfectly normal person. Happy, positive, busy. I got along well with life. I didn’t push too hard at life, and life didn’t poke too hard at me. But, panic and fear and anxiety came rushing into my life. Without ever asking permission, or inquiring if I knew how to handle them, they were there.

I began to notice dangers. For instance, what if a person (a person like ME) forgets how to swallow? What then? Or, breathing, how about forgetting to breathe? What would happen? I began to choke on most foods, and couldn’t quite catch my breath. My heart raced alot and I thought maybe this was a heart attack. I remember driving down the street and seeing this big Public Service Billboard listing the five warning signs of Heart Attack - I had them all! I pulled the car over and dialed my HMO. The nurse, using a very condescending tone, told me that if I was having a heart attack I wouldn’t be talking to her on the phone and that I was probably fine. I hoped that when they found me dead they could trace the call to her and make her feel terribly guilty. Over the next year I had three MRIs (to find the brain tumors), two Stress Tests (one after wearing a portable heart monitor for 48 hours), numerous x-rays and too many doctor visits to count.

My family physician is a saint, he is NOT condescending and he has been wonderful in explaining the ins and outs of Panic Disorder and General Anxiety Disorder. He has educated me about stress. He is willing to talk meds and refer me to psychiatrists. He orders tests when I am convinced of imminent death. He still takes my calls. After 18 years he STILL takes my calls, and schedules appointments with me - this man is a saint!!

But my *dance* with panic and fear started about five years in to the disease. I just couldn’t get my mind around the possiblity that I may survive these symptoms. I thought I was really petrified of death. And that it was just around the corner. With three small children, and having just turned 30, I was pretty sure that my Panic and Anxiety arose out of a fear that an untimely death would leave my loved ones alone. I began a Jungian analysis and in doing that I started writing down my dreams. I studied Jung’s approach to healing and imagery. It started to occur to me that perhaps I wasn’t so afraid to die. What I was afraid of was life.

And so began the dance - with panic, with anxiety and with life. I began to risk things like making art, studying mythology, and creative writing. The generalized fears and anxieties, the dangers encroaching on my life made their way into collages, journal and stories. I tore paper and glued it to large canvases, splashed paint around and added the flotsam and jetsam of my life. The creations were huge, colorful and full of movement. I took classes at the University and read books, plays and myths from ancient Greece.

I also took Buspar for a few years, then during one terrible time I suffered from depression and Effexor was a life-saver. I have had an “as needed” script for Xanax that lasts for years, but I always have it filled. I don’t mess around with these symptoms, they’re scary and they can kick my butt.

But I dance with them. There is a rhythm and a beat that I can relate to. Many times I can embrace the symptoms and out of them I can create some dynamic response to life and love and fear and risk and pain. And that is the dance. It is a spiritual dance for me now. I know that I’m alive, that I’m human, that I’m scared a lot of the time, but I’m not alone. I’m dancing.

In comes the feeling, the symptom, the pain and the conviction that I’m about to die. And on the best days we swoop together through my studio, throwing paint, gluing glass, paper, beads, sticks and stones to canvases that express this mood. In that frantic effort to catch my breath or slow my heart I smoosh clay into fantastic shapes and fill it with items that poke, prod, stick and pierce the softness. I write stories about death, grief and terrible loss. I write about healing and crying and unlikely groups of people coming together to solve a problem or withstand a devestation.

I dream, I flow, I get scared. I take care of myself - I eat as well as I can, I exercise, I limit my exposure to triggers. I dance with this disease. And in the process of this dance I am living. With abandon. This is my story, and I’m sticking to it!