Face. Accept. Float. Let time pass.
If you do this, you will recover.
-from Hope and Help for your Nerves by Dr. Claire Weekes
I went to sleep later than usual last night, but with some help from my local pharmacist, I slept peacefully. I laid in bed for a long time this morning. I had nothing more to do, so I just laid in bed and read and thought and . . . brooded. I was actually reading a chapter that was telling me to NOT lay in bed in the morning. Emotionally/mentally, I had a rough start to the day. Again, I felt like I was on the verge of an all-out panic attack - like if I just let my mind wander to the wrong subject, it would be over.
Then I read an excerpt that said - yes, rest is important, but equally so is occupying yourself. NOT brooding. This is a hard thing to reconcile for me, being an introvert. I really like to be by myself and to be sitting still, but apparently it sometimes makes anxiety worse. So instead of wallowing in bed, I went with the family on a short bike ride and then to the bookstore. By the time we got back, I was feeling physically worn out, but mentally/emotionally stable.
Today I tried to follow the 4 instructions from the book. When I felt a weird physical symptom that sometimes accompanies a panic attack, instead of distracting myself or fleeing the situation and instead of worrying about what came next and next after that, I FACED it. I told myself, "Your left foot feels cold and prickly. This is because of the adrenalin in your system. Isn't that interesting? Nothing bad is going to happen because your foot is tingly. If you wait a little while longer it will go back to normal." And guess what? It did! None of the other symptoms that usually follow even got started. Those physical symptoms were just paper tigers.
Now, I must remind myself, if for some reason in the next day, week, month, or year, that symptom leads to another symptom - that it is okay. I will still face it. I will accept it. I will float through the process and let time pass, until it is over. Then my body will be less and less sensitive to those physical symptoms.
Saturday, August 17, 2013
Friday, August 16, 2013
Fight or Flight?
Last summer, I came home one morning from working the night shift, to someone robbing my house. My husband was out of state, and my daughter was staying with my sister.
I am an enigma. I can be so irrationally anxious about silly things, but then when a car is backed into my driveway - I automatically assume they are just waiting for a neighbor. I almost made it into the house, when Burglar A honked the horn to alert Burglar B of my arrival. Long story short, when it came down to it, my body went Fight instead of Flight.
Looking back, it was a comical scene. Me reaching through the open window of their getaway car, and shaking this man's shoulder yelling "HEY! What are you doing?!?!" over and over again - and him slapfighting my hand away like a middle school girl. Me diving at his horn and honking it incessantly trying to alert my neighbors, and him peeling out of my driveway nearly taking me with him.
All this to say, I've got my modes flipped. That situation would have been better fitted to Flight. Run back to my car, call the cops, be safe. But my body didn't do that for some reason, and it could've cost me a lot more than a sore arm.
Then there are situations like this morning, riding in the back of my own car with my own little family to take my daughter to her first day of kindergarten. Something about the situation caused me anxiety. Maybe it was that we HAD to take her to kindergarten - meaning it wouldn't have been okay for me to not go, or to have a panic attack in the backseat. Apparently the only necessary ingredient for panic attacks, is a situation/environment where it would be really inconvenient to have one. Boom- you got yourself a panic attack.
At that point, I felt like the only thing that could make the terror subside, would be to get out of the car, run through a field, or to turn around and go home. Flight.
I don't think Fight is the answer either though. I think I'm supposed to Float. When I feel those symptoms starting up, I'm supposed to acknowledge it and Float until it's over (a VERY difficult thing to do), and then congratulate myself when it's over.
I've been reading a book over this whole subject. The book said this may get worse before it gets better, because of the amount of focus put on the problem as you are reading and trying to work through it. I didn't realize to what extent. I didn't realize I wouldn't be able to take a nap on a day when I have literally nothing to do, because I snap awake after 30 seconds with my heart racing.
Part of me really wants to go back to what I was doing. Making all my decisions based on avoidance. I was a happy little introvert who said "no" to almost all social engagements. Maybe if I were an extrovert, I would be more motivated to work through these issues. But I've convinced myself that I don't like to do certain things . . . when it may be that I am just afraid. But the part of me that loves my husband and daughter says I have to keep trying.
I am an enigma. I can be so irrationally anxious about silly things, but then when a car is backed into my driveway - I automatically assume they are just waiting for a neighbor. I almost made it into the house, when Burglar A honked the horn to alert Burglar B of my arrival. Long story short, when it came down to it, my body went Fight instead of Flight.
Looking back, it was a comical scene. Me reaching through the open window of their getaway car, and shaking this man's shoulder yelling "HEY! What are you doing?!?!" over and over again - and him slapfighting my hand away like a middle school girl. Me diving at his horn and honking it incessantly trying to alert my neighbors, and him peeling out of my driveway nearly taking me with him.
All this to say, I've got my modes flipped. That situation would have been better fitted to Flight. Run back to my car, call the cops, be safe. But my body didn't do that for some reason, and it could've cost me a lot more than a sore arm.
Then there are situations like this morning, riding in the back of my own car with my own little family to take my daughter to her first day of kindergarten. Something about the situation caused me anxiety. Maybe it was that we HAD to take her to kindergarten - meaning it wouldn't have been okay for me to not go, or to have a panic attack in the backseat. Apparently the only necessary ingredient for panic attacks, is a situation/environment where it would be really inconvenient to have one. Boom- you got yourself a panic attack.
At that point, I felt like the only thing that could make the terror subside, would be to get out of the car, run through a field, or to turn around and go home. Flight.
I don't think Fight is the answer either though. I think I'm supposed to Float. When I feel those symptoms starting up, I'm supposed to acknowledge it and Float until it's over (a VERY difficult thing to do), and then congratulate myself when it's over.
I've been reading a book over this whole subject. The book said this may get worse before it gets better, because of the amount of focus put on the problem as you are reading and trying to work through it. I didn't realize to what extent. I didn't realize I wouldn't be able to take a nap on a day when I have literally nothing to do, because I snap awake after 30 seconds with my heart racing.
Part of me really wants to go back to what I was doing. Making all my decisions based on avoidance. I was a happy little introvert who said "no" to almost all social engagements. Maybe if I were an extrovert, I would be more motivated to work through these issues. But I've convinced myself that I don't like to do certain things . . . when it may be that I am just afraid. But the part of me that loves my husband and daughter says I have to keep trying.
Sunday, July 22, 2012
death, gratitude, school pranks, dark humor
"Kinsey? She's gone." My mother says calmly over the phone.
"Okay. I'm coming over." That's it.
I remember walking in to my grandmother's house, MY house, and floating by familiar faces and some faces I hadn't seen for ages. My mom comes to hug away my stoicism, but I stand firm.
"Can I see her?" I ask.
"Yes. She's in her bed, peaceful." She starts to walk me back to her room, the room I spent much of my recent days, and nearly all of my nights.
"Can I spend some time alone with her?" She nods and lets my hand slip out of hers.
I go into my grandmother's room and close the door. I turn to look at her, my sleeping baby grandmother. I walk around and crouch down between the two twin beds that we used to share. I touch her hair and start to cry. "Thank you" is all I can say. Over the past two years, I had accepted gratitude and respect for the care and time I gave to my ailing grandmother. I had often stood on my own little pedestal for this "sacrifice". But now, all I can do is say "Thank you. Thank you so much Mimi. Thank you. Thank you."
This woman completely changed the course of my life, my career, my marriage, and my family. The two years I spent caring for her were equally the best and worst years of my life so far. Of course I was thanking her for all of these things and for all the ways she blessed us growing up, but it was more than that. It was simpler than that. I was thanking Someone for giving me her. I was thanking her for being so wonderful, so easy to laugh, so generous.
I don't know how long I'm there. I can't stop playing with her hair and putting my cheek against her petal soft cheek that is growing ever cooler. At some point, my sister peeks into the room. I move aside to make room for her near Mimi. She sidles in and kneels down beside her. I sit on the bed and bow in silent reverence. After some time, I hear her whisper my thanks to Mimi. I suppose verbatim isn't such a coincidence when you are just saying "thank you" repeatedly. It's simple really, but it says something about this woman when the last words people leave her with is "thank you".
"Do you still believe in Heaven?" My sister asks me.
I answer without hesitation, "I do right now." My sister smiles and starts to tear up.
"I don't know about the place we learned of at church camp, but I know that Mimi IS. I know that she just still IS. That's all I need to know." Kristen is just nodding and nodding and nodding. We hold each other for awhile.
"I need to call and let my professors know I'm not going to clinicals tomorrow. I had to call last week because of our other family issue. They are going to think I make this stuff up."
Kristen smiles and adds in her best uppity voice, "Oh yeah, your grandma died this time. Didn't someone different ALMOST die last week? Is your dog gonna get sick next week?" We are both laughing.
"I could take a picture beside my dead grandmother holding up today's paper like the terrorists do. That would show 'em. But then I'd probably get kicked out for a whole other range of issues." We can't stop laughing and adding in other possibilities, becoming more and more inappropriate.
Kristen says, "Are we okay with this morbid humor because we are nurses?"
"I think we're okay with it because it's healthy for us. Mimi would be cracking up laughing at us right now too."
"She would. She so would. You're right."
"God I loved that woman." A pause. "I guess we should go mingle or whatever."
I ootch Kristen out the door first, and turned to Mimi and said, "You jipped me. I wanted to be here, sleeping beside you. You jipped me."
"Okay. I'm coming over." That's it.
I remember walking in to my grandmother's house, MY house, and floating by familiar faces and some faces I hadn't seen for ages. My mom comes to hug away my stoicism, but I stand firm.
"Can I see her?" I ask.
"Yes. She's in her bed, peaceful." She starts to walk me back to her room, the room I spent much of my recent days, and nearly all of my nights.
"Can I spend some time alone with her?" She nods and lets my hand slip out of hers.
I go into my grandmother's room and close the door. I turn to look at her, my sleeping baby grandmother. I walk around and crouch down between the two twin beds that we used to share. I touch her hair and start to cry. "Thank you" is all I can say. Over the past two years, I had accepted gratitude and respect for the care and time I gave to my ailing grandmother. I had often stood on my own little pedestal for this "sacrifice". But now, all I can do is say "Thank you. Thank you so much Mimi. Thank you. Thank you."
This woman completely changed the course of my life, my career, my marriage, and my family. The two years I spent caring for her were equally the best and worst years of my life so far. Of course I was thanking her for all of these things and for all the ways she blessed us growing up, but it was more than that. It was simpler than that. I was thanking Someone for giving me her. I was thanking her for being so wonderful, so easy to laugh, so generous.
I don't know how long I'm there. I can't stop playing with her hair and putting my cheek against her petal soft cheek that is growing ever cooler. At some point, my sister peeks into the room. I move aside to make room for her near Mimi. She sidles in and kneels down beside her. I sit on the bed and bow in silent reverence. After some time, I hear her whisper my thanks to Mimi. I suppose verbatim isn't such a coincidence when you are just saying "thank you" repeatedly. It's simple really, but it says something about this woman when the last words people leave her with is "thank you".
"Do you still believe in Heaven?" My sister asks me.
I answer without hesitation, "I do right now." My sister smiles and starts to tear up.
"I don't know about the place we learned of at church camp, but I know that Mimi IS. I know that she just still IS. That's all I need to know." Kristen is just nodding and nodding and nodding. We hold each other for awhile.
"I need to call and let my professors know I'm not going to clinicals tomorrow. I had to call last week because of our other family issue. They are going to think I make this stuff up."
Kristen smiles and adds in her best uppity voice, "Oh yeah, your grandma died this time. Didn't someone different ALMOST die last week? Is your dog gonna get sick next week?" We are both laughing.
"I could take a picture beside my dead grandmother holding up today's paper like the terrorists do. That would show 'em. But then I'd probably get kicked out for a whole other range of issues." We can't stop laughing and adding in other possibilities, becoming more and more inappropriate.
Kristen says, "Are we okay with this morbid humor because we are nurses?"
"I think we're okay with it because it's healthy for us. Mimi would be cracking up laughing at us right now too."
"She would. She so would. You're right."
"God I loved that woman." A pause. "I guess we should go mingle or whatever."
I ootch Kristen out the door first, and turned to Mimi and said, "You jipped me. I wanted to be here, sleeping beside you. You jipped me."
Thursday, October 13, 2011
To Worry or Not To Worry
This morning I buckled Davie in to her little bus seat for her first field trip to the zoo. Leading up to this event, I wondered if I should rearrange my schedule and go with her. I like to experience her experiencing things. I told myself I was worried about her getting lost or lonely or something . . . but chances of that happening are very small.
Davie loves a loner. She will hug the shy girl. She will talk to the new kid. But in groups, she IS the loner. I don't think she gets many opportunities at school to be with one other child, to make one friend at a time. I get the feeling that she is very quiet at school. So I think this will be great for her to go in small groups to a place that she loves and chat excitedly.
I think that kid is going to be A-OK. Not just today, but in general. She is self-sufficient, kind, and imaginative. What more could one ask for!
Friday, August 19, 2011
An Interview with Miss Davie Lucille
I'm going to ask you some questions. Okay?
Okay.
What is your name?
Davie.
How old are you?
This many. (holds up 5 fingers)
No, you're not.
I'm three. (holds up 3 fingers) What's your name?
My name is Kinsey.
and you're three days old. Can I give you a kiss?
Yes. (kiss)
I'm sorry (strokes my arm)
Why are you sorry?
Cause I'm being really really ugly.
I don't think you were being ugly at all.
I was. And I will. And I'm really really sorry. (another kiss)
Okay. What is your favorite color?
Green.
What green things do you like?
Ummmm. I like . . . pink.
Okay. What do you like that's pink?
Ummmmm. Toys.
What is your favorite food?
STRAWBERRIES! (I actually think she thought about this for the pink answer, because strawberries aren't her favorite food.)
Who is your best friend?
Ummmm. Harper and Max! Harper is my favorite friend and Max is my favorite friend too. Harper is my favorite best friend at my school. It will be so nice if I give her a hug.
That's true.
I love you. I love you.
I love you too. You're very sweet.
(as I am trying to ask another question she says...) Look at my eye. Look at my eye.
They are very pretty. What do you want to be when you grow up?
A chicken! (laughter) or a cow! (more laughter)
That's silly.
Mommy, I want to be an animal? or a ghost.
What is your favorite thing to play?
With Scout.
What is your favorite animal?
Um. A little giraffe.
I like giraffes too!
But you like a big giraffe and I like a little giraffe.
What is your favorite word?
Um, I don't know.
What is something that mommy says a lot?
Um, GIRAFFE! (laughter)
What do you dream about at night?
Ladybugs (she has said this every single morning since we started asking her about a year or more ago). They will hurt me.
No they won't. They're friendly.
But they tickle my hand.
Yeah, but that doesn't hurt.
It just tickles.
What does mommy dream about?
Cows. (she has also given this as my answer for the same amount of time)
What does daddy dream about? (I already knew what was coming)
A clock! . . . but he should dream about animals.
What kind of animals?
A giraffe!
We're on a giraffe kick.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Things of June
1. We officially moved out of our house in OKC. We are renting it to some friends for awhile. After all, we have been living here at Mimi's in Norman for months now. But we went from nothing moved out (not even in boxes) to everything moved out in 24 hours . . . or I should say, Steven did. I couldn't break away from Mimi's to help, so he basically did it all by himself!
2. Davie and I both start school next week. I'm starting the nursing program at OCCC. It will be 10 months of intense learning. I'm a little nervous about the schedule since I seem to have lots of responsibilities these days outside of school. I'm excited for Davie to start school because we enrolled her in the sweetest little hippy nursery school I've ever seen. She will get to go with her cousin Harper this summer before Harper starts Kindergarten at public school. Davie is going to love it.
3. Our 6th anniversary is coming up on the 11th. I gave Steven an early present because he was having a terrible week. I'm a sucker that way. I gave him an iPad . . . he thinks they are the coolest things ever. And they are, but I'm among the camp that they are kind of impractical. I mean it's just a giant iPhone. We'll see what he thinks after a few weeks.
4. Father's Day is this month. I got my dad a puppy. I got Steven (well, I can't say yet, because I haven't given it yet).
5. My appointment with the Rheumatologist is this month. Eh. I don't feel anything in particular about this, so we'll just see what happens.
6. I feel like everything is hanging in the air. I'm looking into the future and trying to see when things will settle down, but I think this is just life. Although mine is considerably more complicated than the average Joe America right now. Our living situation is . . . how you say . . . interesting.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Lupus is for Lovers.
About a week ago, a nurse called and told me that my bloodwork came back and my ANA was positive.
I had no idea what she was talking about. I went in to the doctor because I was having frequent joint pain. He ordered some bloodwork but said it was mainly to rule out Lupus and Rheumatoid Arthritis. I guess the ANA is one of the first diagnostic tests for Lupus and other autoimmune disorders. I know a handful of people that have Lupus and they say that the symptoms are really, really annoying . . . but not debilitating. So that is good.
Anyways, I meet with a rheumatologist in June for more tests. For now, it's kind of nice to know that it is actually something and not just in my head. On the other hand, it's also not nice. It seems like I've had some amount of joint pain every day since they called. But the good news is it doesn't really get worse with activity or rest, it just stays the same . . . so that is no reason to lay around in bed all day. Although, it is a reason to lay in bed all day if you are really really tired . . . which I am right now. Good night.
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